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predictable-affairs · 3 years

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III ✯A waltz that goes - one, two, three, four...✯

There was no fire, no chaos, no fools, just an empty piano room.

How quiet it was, like an other wordly dimension, as if the world before christmas. Absolute stilness, calmness, as if piercing right into the gaze of Narccissuss pond water, and right in the midst of it, drowing in the beautiful tides of silence, lay Laito.

As the suns bright beams shone through the lazily closed curtains, you could tell that he must of been asleep long ago... It's the middle of the day and he wasn't asleep, tired - maybe, but asleep - not at all.

Whilst sitting in the room, pretending as if it was the middle of a stary night, not the middle of day, a small tune of a waltz expresses itself through his fingers. As he pressed each key with care (or what he difined as care), as if a puzzle, combining a beautiful silhuette of music, he pretends that he was the one trying to lull his notes to sleep, diving into the fantasy that he loved the music as much as he hated his father.

Such a beautiful illusion he was under, spinning as a swan in its lake, not noticing another feather creeping onto its dance water...

Curious dust, spying through a crack in the door, as if magic (or maybe something more?), a soft dissapointment, sticking like gum, overtook his senses.

Fingers steading themseleves, landing on each and every nearest key, creating a truly ugly sounds, one (daring to?) rival even the history of this mansion.

A sigh, a singular small sigh, disturbing the stillness of the calm pond.

"I know you're there, you can come out now."

Is that sadness or dissapointment laced in the thread of those words? A shuffle and the dust gathering above the shadows moved, revealing the prepostorous impostor.

"Aah, our little doll~"

A fake hapiness overtakes the notes of his voice, yet the threads are everyday, simple ones, so it doesn't vow to raise suspicion. Only a truly close one can sense the diffrence in its cotton (rotten) wool.

"Mm, Laito...?"

An unfinished question hangs in the air. So many possible endings... Yet, does he truly know the esence of the question?

He does; but silence! Nothing is being said.

He pretends.

"Mmh, why don't you come here, by the piano, we can play a lovely little tune together~"

He will not anwser; will you play along?

A little shuffle of bare feet and the dark piano seems bigger than when it was from the door. More intimidating too...

"Hmm, sit."

He moves a bit with a smile, one hand patting the unworn leather of the chair, eyes gleeming with mischief. Oh, the fire in them is so bright! As if alight just recently, woken up from it's dark dreaming slumber.

Ah, the more you look into those eyes, the more you realise that... the fire is fake. It's not the hot dance of flames for life or excitment, not even hapiness, sadness or revenge. It's fake, it's dark, but it's not cheap. This fire is much more dangerous, much more darker, larger; even though it's fake, be careful! You can still get burned...

The leather of the chair feels soft, it's not cold either, warmed up by someone else...

As you sit, the red headed boy can't take his eyes off you.

Not giving even a second to cool down from the intense heat from his eyes. Your sleep shirt rides up just a bit as you get more comfortably settled in the chair. It doesn't go unnoticed.

His eyes, oh! His never ending eyes wander just a bit too low, just a bit to the new plot of nudity. All the way from the heels to the hips; the bare legs and open skin gets him a little excited. It's as if the prudness and innocence of it all is more exciting than you actually being nude.

Oh, how he'd love to imagine you nude. Absolutely bare and naked, giving it all to him. He is imagining you naked. Wandering just a bit too low once more, and a bit too high for the first time. Looking over, examining everything; wondering, just what would happen if-

"Laito? Can we play?"

Of course we can, my love, just in which way?

"A? Sure, here, go ahead..."

A little disheveled look shines in the eyes, a bit lost, but easily regainable. Sitting up a bit more straight, repainting the moment lost playful smile, his eyelids close a bit and easily turn away to the yellowing white and black keys.

"I really like the tune you played before, it sounded really nice."

A simple comment, a simple smile, one simple emotion - happy. A pretty line graces your lips; a sneaky look landed in the direction of your face, gives a small little blush to Laito. (How he'd love to see it, your face, contort, maybe even make you blush).

"Oh really~? Do you know what it's called?"

A smile, closed eyes, he doesn't want to see you. The question hangs in the air, just like a misreable life ending it's play.

His head turned to you, his smile becomes a bit more scary, his eyes open with just a bit more mischief in them. His head moves closer, just a bit more to intimidate you? Scan you? Explore you? Read you?

As he keeps geting closer, if you squint, you can notice something is missing. Is it in his eyes? Or in his smile? Is it something in the flame, hiding deeper than the irisis? Or maybe something in his teeth; as if a yellow spot, unseeable, but there to scare, annoy?

"It's called "The blood waltz"..."

Is it a whisper, or is it something in his unnatural tone? Can you... did you tell the difference? Is it just your brain playing tricks on you? Was it just your imagination, that a such a whisper exsisted? Was it also just your imagination, that sent a wave of rare shivers, those types of rare shivers, that you get once in your life as a tide drags you back into it's ocean, prickling down your spine?

It's getting a bit hot in here.

His success, triumph in making you blush, puts back the playful, unreadable smile on his face.

It's a safe smile, yet no heart in it can be seen.

He moves away, his head, his posture back, as if he was a mechanical teddy bear, as if he wasn't real, yet your only wish is, that he were even more real.

And in that moment, in that moment of a wish, in that moment of pure hypnotization, you realise what's missing.

Something that you didn't realise, something, that you thought was so significant, so real, so important, so ture, yet when you look at him now, it was so hard to pinpoint what it was.

Something, that you didn't even think, would make him look so... empty...

He's missing...

His hat.

His hat is missing, he looks so weird without it.

"Laito... where's your hat?"

"Huh? Oh, you like my hat?"

It sounds like a genuine simple question, no mischief behind it.

As he turns away, just for a moment, hiding behind the side of the piano, he seems to grab something. Seeing his back, his side, it seems so lovely, it's as if those green eyes never exsisted, it's as if the mischief hidden behind them, that could even rival Loki's, never did anything, never appeared in your life.

And yet, they turn back in a flash, the emerald green forest hiding in them, once again envolping you whole.

It's quite lovely to get lost...

But, how lost is too lost?

Something simple lands on your head.

"Hmm~, here! If you like my hat that much, you can wear it!"

Cheerfull echoes resonate in the occupied piano room. An empty, but characteristic, closed eye smile, dissolves some of the mist set tension. The hat gently lands as if a fallen feather of a swan, right before turning into a beautiful ballet dancer...

Or...

Right after turning into a swan, never to dance as human again...

"Here, why don't you play me a lovely little tune, entertain me, little doll"

It's just a little blush, a small, invisible tint, perhaps he doesn't see it...?

Maybe if you turn your head just a bit more, turn your focus to the slighty yellowed keys, press just a bit harder, and maybe you'll get the right melody, the right tone. Maybe then you'll finally calm down. Maybe then you'll finally let the music and his unreadable stare drown you in the green land of emerald waters and (un)holy grass...

A simple tune, so melodic, but primitive; one rivaling the beauty of the forest Nymphs and the magic of Orpheus's music.

With a hand resting on the side of the glazed piano, in intense stare is softened (dare we say, even intrigued) and emotion is trying to meet the others.

Yet your fingers are quick. There is no need for a hum or a song, not even a text would be allowed in this tune.

One, two, three, four, and it's a waltz you've never heard before...

"Where'd you learn to play that?"

The melody continues. There is no more suspence, it's coming nigh.

"Shu taught me."

Intensity and stop! The sentence is complete; a black, blot dot is set.

Hands stop, hover and land. You've reached the highest point of the mountain.

"You know... You look awfully adorable in my hat..."

One hand no longer supporting a head, the other slowly slithering, as if serpent, a deadly little thing, across the warmed seat.

The mountain air feels fresh and nively cold on your skin.

"I think... it really suits you..."

The hands drives onto your thigh, both pair of eyes, both looks afraid to cut the tension, as if it were an overblown ballon, that could pop at any drop, or even, a frozen lake. One, with ice so thin, that it makes you question why you even stepped on it in the first place.

Both pair of eyes follow the hand, every trace, it's whole way, it's whole little odyssey.

The fish seem to like to play under your feet, under the frozen water...

On the mountain, you stretch your arms over the horizon.

As the hand rest on your thigh, it's odly warm sensation, radiating from within gives a out a qiuet gulp.

A pair of eyes reach up, desperately trying for air, the green ones slowly follow suit.

Such a beautiful intense gaze, held with a million pieces of silk rope. You're getting lost in the forest, my darling, even if you follow the trail...

So desprate, so strong. You have to breathe, you need to breathe!

The hand moves further up, slowly, intensly, savouring the flavour of your skin, leaving alight a path of fire with each slide up.

His head is twisted, twisted to the side... His hand is moving even more further up, holding, challenging the intense gaze...

You take a breath on the mountain.

You close your eyes, calm on the frozen river.

And the it happens - the fall, the kiss.

His hand stops right where it needs to be, his head closing the gap and giving in to the tension.

A kiss, just a small, little kiss. So soft, so timid; are you getting shy?

(please don't (do) be shy, it makes me so happy...)

The gap is small, but it seems as if you could fit the whole Pacific Ocean in there and still have room to never drown.

But you want to drown...

Eyes locked tight together, you say nothing, but it's all the both of you have to hear.

Quietness, stilness...

You close your eyes on the mountain and...

Fall.

Fall forward, into the gaping abyss with it's bottom never seen...

A raging storm. Lips connected, stronger, hotter; a dancing, dangerous flame in the middle of the room.

It's so hot, it's so suffocating. It's more than just a gentle, timid kiss, it's one that not even Romeo could give to Juliette.

As you fall into the freezing river waters, not even it can stop the burning fire inside you.

You need this, you love this, even if it's burning you raw inside out, right into a dust of ash.

Lean back, just a little lean back; is it because you don't want this? Or is it because you want to let him take you whole?

So much time, such intensity, there is no slow.

As if trying to lead him back with your lips, you're slowly trying to lay down.

Yet, he is pressistent, he will not give in, wont let you get away.

Air, you need air!

But the river is frozen over you.

You keep leaning back, but he just stands up, stradels the poor little chair, and pushes you forward.

Wether it was his hands or his lips, that brought you upright again - you do not know.

But what you do know is that a hand, and another hand make their peace on your thighs. Slowly rubbing and going under, spinning circles like a helpless ballerina.

His hands are under there and they're strong, slowly lifting and making him - your piano chair.

Just as he stradled this chair, he makes you stradle him, continuing your fast burning kiss.

"You're a terrible kisser, you know~"

It makes you blush.

"It's not like I had practice before..."

A little chuckle, this time it's sounds genuine.

Once again, another strong gaze locks itself on you; pressistent! It needs to get your attention...

"Oh, sweetie, I can be your practice, hmm~"

Another kiss, nor hard, nor soft, nor sweet, nor bitter.

It's a waltz, with no rhythm.

"Every week..."

He lifts you, turning around and placing you down on the piano (what an awfully ugly sound it makes...).

His hands enclose on the piano, trapping your hips in place; you won't move away...

"Two hours a day..."

He's getting closer, another sensless, short kiss.

"Until you play my lips, like the melody you played for me..."

Another kiss, this one will last longer, you know.

It's those hot, hot kisses all over again...

He's kissing down now.

It stops at your lips and continues slowly on your chin.

Down.

Hands won't be left behind; as they lift and and hug your legs again.

Kisses under your chin, on your neck, down your collarbone with a stop right there...

Oh, and there? Those kisses were prefume.

They'd linger and sometimes even leave something behind.

He'd bare his fangs and bite, just a bit, right there. But being lost in this high, in this new, strange world, you can't, you don't have to feel anything. The pain is just an illusion, it's actually exctacy, just hiding in a different form.

Yet, biting won't stop him. He'll molest the spot, those two little dots; kiss, suck, lick. Anything and everything, just to get that same sound out of you, that you made a few seconds ago, right in the moment of the bite, the kiss; anything...

And yet, there's no stopping there, you might linger on one spot, but you can't stay there forever.

Kisses keep flowing down like a cold river stream. Down to the heart, to the chest, to the valley. They flow as if a leaf on an ocean. Through the stomach, around the waist, all the way to the hips and stopping near the middle. It's the edge of the waterfall.

"Say, what game did you play with Kanato?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kanato doesn't usually say much, but his look today, your smell... that's all we had to see..."

...

"So, what game did you and Kanato play?"

"It's a special game."

"Oh?"

Just a tilt of the head, both arms on your thighs, but they're holding up a had of their own.

"And how do you play this special game~?"

"Kanato has a special sweet and if I lick and suck it, I get some cream at the end."

"Mm, a special sweet...?"

He's smiling.

"Mhm, I think you have one too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes! Kanato said the cream was supposed to be sweet, but I don't think it was,"

His smile (or is it a smirk?), it get's a little wider.

"Maybe if I try yours, it will be better...?"

"Hmm, how about... I try some of that special cream~?"

"I don't think you can; I think you should ask Kanato."

"Oh, mm, I don't think I'll need to do that,"

His smile... It's still a smile, but there seems to be something off with it...

"Have you ever heard of reversing games?"

"Reversing?"

"Mhm, how about we try reversing your special game, I think I've got the hang of the rules..."

It's no longer a smile, just the esence, no soul of it.

A dangerous fire has unknowingly been lit.

As he kisses the middle once again, soft hands trace your thighs up again, getting a hold of some fabric, squeezing, crumbleing it up, just to pull it all down.

The leaf finally flows off the edge of the waterfall.

At first, a gentle kiss, just like at the start, just like what led to all of this.

Then a another and another kiss, each one more passionate than the last. Tugs and kisses, they are getting more hard, they're less soft, more demanding; this will you lead you somewhere more than the edge of a waterfall...

But it feels so good...

"Laito!"

Another harsh tug, one hand holding on to the piano, as if it were your life, if you let go - you fall. The other quickly flowing to the top of your head, right to the hat, to hold it... Is it to not make it fall off? For reasurance? Something to make you calm down?

"Mm? Oh, don't hold that hat sweetie,"

One hand leads the other off the hat, holding on tight to the wrist (maybe a bit too tight). He doesn't want to let go...

"Just try to not make it fall off, I don't like it when my things get dirty~..."

A look that's trying to bind you in your place is cast once again. It's hard, it's intense, it's... dirty...

"Well..."

The gaze, it's stronger than the gods.

"Some of my things, hehe~"

And he drowns in kisses again, not coming up even for a breath.

It feels so good, as of the tides of the wishing waves have swept up and taken you away. The exctacy, the pure chaos of it, it just slowly builds this feeling inside you. One, that could be compare to the finding of your very own ocean.

It feels amazing, his kisses, their hard, theirs rough, but you dont want the to be soft!

You need this, you want this!

And the ocean that you found is slowly flooding.

"Laito..."

It's not supposed to be a moan or a whimper, but it's not making him stop.

"Laito."

He keeps going, and if anything - even faster and better than before.

Something’s building up inside of you; the ocean is soon to overflow...

"Laito!"

And there it goes, you just let go. The ocean finally overflowd, spilling out the sides of the earth.

You did try to warn him, but that, this feeling... It could rival anything in this world, even the almighty love...

He doesn't seem to care, that you're finally done, over the high, but still stuck in its euphoric fall. He just keeps licking, sucking, cleaning everything up.

"Is it... Is it sweet?"

The questions echo may be tired, but it's esence is just still building up.

"As sweet as honey, hehe~"

He smiles, he laughs or perhaps it's a chuckle.

"So sweet that I want more..."

The ocean may have spilled, but it's far from empty.

He goes and carries on with his want, despite the protest.

Oh, the second time was even better than the first!

So much more sensation, somuch more work... It didn't take long to finnish this time around.

And now, you felt completely down. Still sitting on the piano, heavy, thick breaths, sleep slowly overcomes tiredness. Yet, even as you’re huffing and puffing, feeling as if you just ran a marathon and blabbering on nonsense - he doesn't stop, he didn't stop.

When you finished the second time, he didn't stop; didn't lift his head up, didn't say any comments, just kep on going.

It's hard, you're trying to keep it in.

It does feel good, better with each second, but it's just too much! You... you don't fel like you can take it.

His name falling from your lips, as if trying to stop him, warn him, tell him...

But he cannot hear, he refuses to listen.

The sensations keeps going on and on, you won't be able to hold on for much longer.

One last time, you try his name.

"Laito!"

Yet, to no avail, you are done for.

As the last couple seconds tick, the clock reaches 12, it's already midday. And with those last seconds, with that last tick you release.

The build up, the hold was so big, you feel as if a fountain was just released; and with the tick of the clock, with the wooden bird, a darkness overcomes your eyes. You fall into it, letting go of your physical body, allowing the dark to hug, envolpe and drown you whole; let your soul and mind wander free. Let the exctacy release while you continue to forever swim in it's waters.

Go to sleep now, rest. Let relief overcome you, never to awake from euphoria again.

↢ II o’clock | IV o’clock ↣

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flower-demise · 3 years

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⋆⁺ 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯| 𝖐𝖙𝖍 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

They say that when you are looking at the stars, you’re actually looking into the past. Many of the stars we see at night have already faded away.

And yet I found you

A bts au inspired by hotarubi no Mori e, howl's moving castle and stories without a linear concept of time

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚⁺˚

✦𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 : 𝔗𝔞𝔢𝔥𝔶𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯, 𝔜𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔦 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

✦𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊 : 𝔉𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔲 ,𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔰𝔱, 𝔥𝔲𝔯𝔱/𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

✦𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔲𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔡/𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰.

✦𝕬/𝖓: 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔞 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔭��𝔢𝔶/𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔢.

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 | 𝖈𝖍.1 | 𝖈𝖍.2 | 𝖈𝖍.3 | 𝖈𝖍.4 | 𝖈𝖍.5 | 𝖈𝖍.6| 𝖆𝖔3

Chapter 1: In the heart of the labyrinth, he waits..

‘I had the same dream last night’ you exclaimed with a pout on your face as your grandma prepared the tea to start of the day.

It was almost autumn now and the chill in the air sparked an excitement deep within you, soon you’d be able to see all the orange leaves decorating the trees. But even that didn’t lift your moods today. It didn’t help the fact that she took her time making it and that her only response was to smile kindly to you and simply say:

‘Again?’ ‘Oh dear please remind me’

‘Grandma!’ you exclaimed betrayed and she laughed at your overreaction. ‘You never listen to me when I tell you’ you fake cried but she simply hummed a quiet lullaby. She was too used to your morning temper, there was a reason she made the tea after all.

‘Here’ she said finally and filled the cup in front of you with a steaming light red liquid as she did with her own. Then she took the seat opposite to you and after taking a long inhale of the fragrance of the tea she said:

‘There now, I’m all ears’

‘Finally’ you mumbled and you mirrored her, taking a sip. Your eyes lit up immediately and she laughed at your reaction.

‘When did you gather the flowers?’ you asked, a new excitement settling in you.

‘Oh, I went early in the morning, the summer is ending and I thought I’d pick my favorite grandchild’s flowers to make tea before she leaves’

‘I’m your only grandchild’ you mumbled again but felt grateful. This scent and this warmth between your hands was what autumn felt like to you. Another sip and the realization that you didn’t want to leave settled in.

You were twelve now and you would have to go to a new school in a couple days, the thought only made you want to stay here with her more. Here, in the quietness of her cottage next to the sea and the meadows. Here, with the lullabies and the warm milk and the clear night skies. The world outside of this appeared as a scary place.

‘Tell me about your dream dear’ she reminded you, maybe even to distract you.

‘Oh right’ another sip ‘I saw that boy again, the one with the mint hair’

‘Oh, your boyfriend’

The look you shot her made her laugh out loud once again.

‘Anyway’ you continued’ it was a sunny day and he was laying on the field. But he was frozen, I called his name a couple of times but he didn’t turn around’

Your grandma’s gaze shifted at that but you didn’t notice.

‘I was very worried only then I noticed how flowers were growing around him, almost covering him like a blanket. It felt..weird’

‘Weird how?’

You looked at her, sipping her tea untroubled.

‘Ah well..the worry left when I saw the flowers and I became sad but also hopeful. I don’t know how to explain it.’

‘It's not an easy thing to do, trying to explain feelings’

‘But this isn't about that, it's about the boy.’ you emphasized and she watched amused ‘I knew the boy in my dream, I knew I knew him but now I can't remember how’.

She took another sip.

‘You said you called his name’

That surprised you, was she paying attention to you after all?

‘Did I? Ugh I can't even remember that. Why can't I remember?’

‘It's okay dear one.’ she said and you stopped your frantic motions to listen to her.

She smiled at you.

‘It was just a dream’

‘Yeah, I know’ you admitted halfheartedly.

‘But it was a beautiful dream’.

‘It was?’

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Well, what does it mean?’

She looked at you for a few seconds and then after making up her mind and taking another sip, her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall behind you.

‘Look at that, it's almost noon. I’ll tell you another time, okay? When you are older.’

‘Grandma’ you complained but the woman offered a pat in your head and started gathering your cups.

(12 years later...)

‘I saw the weirdest dream last night’ you announced as you were preparing for the bookshop’s opening. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over you, like you had had a conversation like this before.

There were some new arrivals you needed to stack in the shelves and clear the way of the little open space left. Your antique bookshop was exactly that, little. Taking the corner of a hidden street, it was a traveler's lucky discovery as some blogs have called it. And you would agree, you wouldn’t call this place mainstream at all, you knew well enough that it didn’t have the latest number one bestsellers although some second hand harry potter ones were laying on the fantasy section. It was basically a mixture of hidden gems of all genres, all of them second hand and some old tarot decks and postcards. That was one of the reasons you liked it this much, it felt like your own little magic shop. You cringed at the childish thought.

And continued on your work.

‘I was walking in a dark path.’ you explained as you opened the curtains and the morning sun slipped from the window throughout the wooden floor to the vintage paintings covering the walls.

‘I knew someone was watching me, following me. I knew they were there but I couldn’t turn around, I just kept walking and walking’ you looked at the titles and hard covers of the new arrivals. Your hand instinctively travelled through them.

'It felt as if I turned around to face whoever it was, I would be hypnotized, unable to leave’. Your gaze flickered on the title of the largest one with a dark red velvet cover and you knew it would be an instant tourist favorite. The title read: ‘The Story of Orpheus’ and you felt a strange tingle inside you. If you recalled correctly the tale spoke of his descend to the underworld to save his lover, you couldn’t pinpoint though how it ended.

You ignored the feeling and uncovered more books.

‘And then I heard my name’ the reminder alone made you shiver. 'But it was a beautiful voice that spoke it, I remember it being beautiful, because that’s why I turned around’.

‘Very climatic I know, and do you know what happened then?’ you turned around to face your listener’s reaction, only to see your cat lick its paw completely ignoring your rumblings.

‘Please don’t be so invested’ you joked and the cat stopped when it realized you were staring at her.

‘I woke up’ you signed and the ginger furball walked in front you like it was her runaway, her fluffy tail falling under your chin and tickling you. A small smile appeared on your face.

‘What if they were my soulmate or something, calling out for me?’ you swear the look she just gave you along with her little growl was one of the ‘don't be such a pathetic bitch’ kind. You shallowed your pride.

‘Yeah, you are right’ you admitted defeated ‘Soulmates aren't real..what a childish notion’.

A familiar sound pulled you out of your little conversation. You instinctively turned towards the door to greet the new costumer that the bell had announced. Only to find the door closed and the ringing still echoing in your ears.

‘Am I hearing things?’ you questioned out loud and turned to face the cat, only to see her strangely alarmed, her tail straight up and her attention fixed towards the entrance.

‘The old thing must be broken’ you decided. ‘I don’t even know when grandma last replaced it’ you tried to calm your little friend and you went on to check it for yourself when she growled again, halting you.

‘What’s wrong?’ you questioned, slowly retracting and starting to get creeped out.

That’s when the music faintly reached your ears, a familiar melody like an echo of a distant place, a forgotten dream. A sad piano playing from deep in the underworld, you were consumed by its sweet sound. Most of all because you had heard it before. Like a plea to someone, an invitation, one you’ve been waiting for all your life, the sunlight blurred in your side vision and your eyelids became heavier and heavier, surrendering to the delicate notes. Now you could almost follow it, the music would lead you to him.

Then a loud noise of something falling covered everything, the music vanished into whatever realm it came from and you stared in horror at all the books your cat had scattered all over the floor. You stood there for a couple of seconds trying to center yourself, knowing that the little devil had just gotten you out of whatever state you had slipped into.

The rest of the day passed uneventful, only a couple of teenagers wearing their school uniforms came by to check the shelves and an old man who was particularly interested in an old edition of a book. Unfortunately, you had to inform him you didn’t possess the said edition and he only mumbled a ‘people these days chose eBooks over hard covers from the beginning of the 20th century ' and left without saying a simple thank you.

Uneventful entirely.

Your mood was getting lower and lower, you knew it was a weekday so not many costumers would come but still, you were well aware that if you wanted to keep the place running you had to start marketing it somehow. Just because it was your grandma’s shop and it held sentimental value, it didn’t mean it could sustain you. It did what it was supposed to though, reminded you of her.

It didn’t lift your mood either as you were closing now, making sure you locked twice, that you were overly on edge the whole day, jumping from the slightest sound and shadow on the walls. You were a scared cat no surprise there, but even you knew that something odd had happened that morning. Something you were eager to wash away with a hot bath.

You bid you little neighbor farewell for the night, making sure her bowl was full before you took your way home. But the night was beautiful and the air not overly chilly so you took your time exploring the rest of the antique shops that covered your street. You were in a very particular mood, under the full moon, walking the pattern lid streets and spotting all sort of odd objects in the shop windows, you felt like you had entered a fairytale.

You stopped in front of the old bakery that you used to get those chocolate biscuits you loved when you were a kid and even though it had closed long now, you swore you could smell the fresh baked goods under this moon. You passed a few people covered with their scarves and bennies signaling that winter was almost here taking autumn’s place, and made-up stories about where they were going and who they were.

Lost in your imagination you didn’t realize you had found yourself on a street you’d never been before. You saw the slate engraved with the words ‘Acheron'. You hadn't even heard of this street. But it was so beautifully lit under the dim lights you were eager to find where it led. You were so excited in fact that you didn’t notice when the music started, it had come naturally like the first snow, fully fitting the environment around you. And so, when you turned on the corner and started walking down a circular staircase you didn’t question it at all.

Like an enchanted mouse you obeyed the hand who hovered melancholically over the keys of an old piano. He played them so skillfully, like he had done a hundred times, not missing a single note and you couldn’t help but be moved by him, quite literally.

The ground from below your feet changed from the stony road to a heavy carpet and when you looked up again you found a long corridor staring back at you. It extended as far as your eyes could sea and when you looked to the ground again you saw green smoke had covered your feet.

shit

The music became deeper and richer as you kept walking, but the corridor kept extending like it had no end. No end and no beginning. The only thing that changed, was that the smoke had risen higher.

where were you?

You sensed something behind you shift and you turned towards it. The same endless corridor extending in all its silent glory, only now you knew someone was there. Hidden in the dark.

‘Who are you?’ you whispered, finally breaking the silence, only to realize the music had long stopped. The only sound now was your own heavy breathing and the beating of your heart, which got quicker and quicker by the second. Everything was beginning settling in and the all the question were bubbling from the back of your mind. Like..

how the hell did you get here? Wherever here even were...

It’s a dream. You decided. This couldn’t be real. You had gotten home long now and you were dreaming, carefully stuck under a million blankets.

then why were you so aware of a dream?

A sound like wings unfolding had you turn around again. You were trapped like a mouse but between what you didn’t know. Only that it was everywhere, behind you and in front of you, in the walls around you, in every little corner where shadows could reach.

if this was a dream, then why didn’t you wake up?

A scent of something sweet like night flowers reached your nose and you inhaled it like opium.

if this were a dream, could you shape it to your will?

You stopped. Took a deep breath and turn to face the wall. This is a dream you kept repeating as you concentrated on the hard solid material, you touched it gently and imagined a path, a way out. The material obeyed to your will and shifted to thin air, another corridor appearing in front you.

A laugh echoed. A laugh that made every little hair on your neck stand up.

‘Look at you, clever little mouse’ the voice was deep and ancient and run down your spine. Your feet shaked at the power it held, like it could move the very earth, or like it came from it.

You kept walking, you had to. You ignored the creature which you sensed to be closer than before, as if to limit its power, its spell on you.

And yet, dread washed over you as soon as you stared at the same path, it was as if you never had strayed from. He was playing with your mind. He must have. No matter where you went, which turn you took, which doorway you opened you ended up in the beginning, with the presence of someone following you closely, like a guardian.

shit, shit, shit

You stopped in your tracks, your breath frantic. No matter where you run, he had the upper hand. It was like he was one with this place. Your pride gave you a newfound strength though, as you didn’t want the creature to enjoy your desperation, your pointless tries. You were scared to the bone, petrified in fact but refused to die hunted. You tried calm yourself, wherever you were..

you found your way in, you’d find your way out

‘Defeated?’ he purred close to your neck ‘already?’ you could feel a sharp smile at the words that cut your skin like knives.

‘You mortals are so predictable’. Disappointment and arrogance coated his voice now. And now more than ever you wished to defy his predatory aura.

‘You aren’t real’ you spoke with a newfound strength, as to believe it yourself.

The laugh echoed in the corridor darker than before and you got a glimpse at the smoke that had rose almost to your waist.

fuck

‘Isn't the anxiety running hot in your blood real little mouse? Or the way my voice brings forth a primordial fear in your belly?’ you felt his breath in the back of your neck. The scent from before filling your senses. His scent.

‘I’m real. You are not’ you said again, decisive and turned around to see only darkness. A small victory.

‘Such scary words from someone who is afraid to face me’ you teased, pushing your luck, but you didn’t care. You knew you had won over something, over the fear of the unknown, over sharp claws and hearts made of stone. You had stopped running.

The same sound of wings.

‘Oh’ he said with a chuckle. 'I will enjoy this. I'm here little girl’ his voice was almost lyrical ‘I’m here in the dark, can you see me?’

You stared at the abyss ahead of you and your human eyes could only register something twist in the dark. Your stomach followed shortly.

Through the darkness, surrounded by smoke you saw a beautiful man,

no..

A creature with the face of a man with eyes that could read your very soul. Dark wavy hair fell messily above his shoulders, he was so breathtaking that the sight of the black wings hovering behind him didn’t startle you as much.

‘Now you see me’ he said lower. He rested his head on his palm and gazed at you.

‘Now I see you’ you spoke quieter but you knew he heard you.

‘Yet you aren’t the one who guided me here, the one who played the beautiful music’ your gut feeling could tell you this. The man who observed you had the face of an angel, of a forgotten god, but he hid emptiness behind it, like the abyss itself but the music ..the music didn’t remind you of the dark, it reminded you of sunny days and childhood loves.

‘Clever indeed’. He spoke as you figured it out. ‘I wonder that myself. Which of my dear guests called someone like you to this cold forgotten place?’ he had moved closer to you, eyes not ever leaving yours. And you felt exposed, the hidden darkest part inside you felt exposed to his lingering gaze. You’d never forget his eyes, like two dark oceans, they held the colors of dreams in their depths.

Here, in a place like this, you met his gaze back and your eyes roamed from his dark attire covered with jewels to the rings of gems adorning his fingers and the silver necklace hanging from his neck. They stayed there and the man felt you had seen past his exterior as he had seen past yours. An equal match, one he never expected.

It wasn’t long before your eyes were closing though and you felt a hand delicately brushing your hair.

the smoke!

You had forgotten about the smoke and it was too late to care now.

It was strange but your heart had slowed down and before you surrendered to sleep you didn’t feel fear but an odd wonder had begun to settle inside you, birthed out of all you had seen and out of the unworldly man with the black wings who caught you sweetly in his arms when you fell.

{To be continued...}

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This chapter’s moodboard.

Ps: I’d love to read your thoughts about the story

#bts x reader #bts #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts fairytale au #bts fantasy au #bts magical au #bts angst #yoongi #taehyung

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reylofanfictionanthology · 4 years

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For one is love and both are one in love is now live!

Authors will be revealed next week! For now all fics are anonymous. Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21. We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

For one is love and both are one in love collection on AO3 | Gift Fic Master Post Part Two | Treats Masterpost

Gifts Fic Master Post Part One:

ghosts on the shore for aaronBursar

“I meant what I said to you that day on the Death Star. I thought I could never go back. I still think it even now—that I don’t belong here, that I never will.” “But you did come back,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’re here now. With me. You chose it. Despite everything, we made it, both of us.” They sat in silence for awhile, hands clasped while they watched the camp clear as people finally turned in for the night. Then, suddenly, Ben was struck with an idea. “What if we took a trip?”

Sugar High for abbytheatre08

When Maz Kanata hosts five weeks of a Battle of the Bands competition, Rey Johnson and Kylo Ren find themselves both pitted against one another, and drawn together as the weeks go on.

Delayed For A While for aionimica

Death cannot stop love. All it can do is delay it awhile.

I am ready to follow you even though I don't know where for AlwaysEverlark

Her closest friends want Rey to move on from what happened on Exegol, but she refuses to accept that Ben Solo, her soulmate in the Force, is dead. Instead, she undertakes a rescue mission to bring Ben home--no matter the risk.

A More Perfect Union for america_oreosandkitkats

Rey, new to DC, tags along to a stuffy networking event with her friend -- they're both poor and, hell, there's free booze. Ben, a recruiter for the lobbyist firm he works for, finds the intern with the soft voice and angry eyes a fun challenge -- especially when he finds out she works for his estranged mother Senator Leia Organa.

In the Den of the Darkwolf for Amy326

Rey awakened in the darkwolf’s den.

happy cockus day for andabatae

She prefers the nip of New Hampshire winters, heavy winds blowing in her hair, being bundled up in three layers with pens whose ink freeze fast and thaw slow. She loves warm buildings, and Christmas breaks, and slurping down huge bowls of ramen in the evenings, but being on the ground, a clipboard in her hand, boots on a voter’s doorstep? That’s where she knows she belongs. So there are a lot of things going against Rey Johnson’s introduction to Ben Solo, his moody personality probably the least of her worries, since he’s the reason she’s not outside, making some sort of tangible effort to get his mother elected as president.

Hope Lives for aNerdObsessed

This AU story takes place right after the Battle of Exegol, Rey and Ben have just defeated Palpatine and they are both seriously injured but not mortally wounded. When all hope is lost for them as there is no one coming to get them, old friends of the past come to their aid.

Two Bits (or The Haircut) for Ann3onymous

Three days into their marriage of convenience, Ben and Rey are maybe starting to realize that there’s more to this arrangement than a green card or a cooperative board of directors.

We've Got a Good Thing Here for Anysia

Rey & Ben Solo navigate their feelings in the aftermath of the end of the war. With Ben a "functionally dead" force ghost, Rey has to come to terms with how she will balance restoring liberty to the galaxy and making her relationship with Ben work in a... physical sense. It's a difficult enough task to begin with, and it doesn't help that every time they're alone someone seems to require Rey for something.

Event Horizon for Apisa_B

Rey runs into Kylo Ren on a mission for the Resistance, and they have to work together against their wishes. This would be simple... if working together didn't involve pretending to be married, sharing a hotel room, and a lot of unresolved feelings.

still caught in yesterday's wake for Apricot

Her heart is heavy with fear—fear that one day she will no longer be able to recall the shape of Ben’s face, or the timbre of his voice, or the exact color of his eyes; that her memory of him will fade until she is left with nothing but the pain of his absence, like some phantom limb that aches and aches and aches, relentlessly.

A Dark Day Dream for ArdeaJestin

Ben's come home, but Rey can't face him. Not because of anything he's done, at least not in real life. But in her fantasies? oh yes.

Become Who You Were Meant to Be for Aurae

Kylo is a fighter both by training and by preference. Tactics, not strategy. Action, not discussion. Every instinct in him wants to solve his problems by grabbing his sword and shedding some blood. But those easy days are behind him now. He has a galaxy to run. It would be easier if only he could stop thinking about her.

The Spaces Inbetween for Ayrith (freijya)

It wasn’t the first time. Not the first since Crait and she saw him kneeling and their eyes met with anger and ache and want and everything else they didn’t have to say. No. Not the first, nor the second, nor even the third. This was a well trodden path that they all walked over and over. As if the Force was taking their hands and despite both of them tearing it away, still trying to bring them together. --- Rey and Kylo have been dealing with the Force bond for some time, but it finally reaches a tipping point.

The Least Of What I Could Do for benperor-ren (winterelf86)

"I refuse to play opposite someone who has never had a part in their entire life," sneers Ben. "Either Rey goes or I do."

Niima's for bensolosredemption

Though Niima's is a questionable establishment, it's always been Ben's favorite bar. It's not just because he's inexplicably attracted to the new bartender, either - though he has to admit she might have something to do with it.

Devil Spawn for Biekewieke

After a hot anonymous encounter at The Annual Organa Halloween Ball, Rey realizes she slept with the horrible guy who is her new boss. But he doesn't recognize her! And he asks her to track down his mystery hookup, which she totally agrees to do (wink wink, haha, she's lying). But then she finds out she's pregnant! GASP! What's a scared, pregnant single girl to do? (Other than take a nap because she's exhausted.)

Belonging for bitterbones

Friends-with-benefits except whoops I'm in love with you now and hate seeing you flirt with other people because we're technically not together.

Paradise for bittersnake

For two people whose souls are inseparably united, the question of sex shouldn't be that complicated. Given Ben and Rey's individual histories, however, it really comes as no surprise. But that's all right. They’ll have their whole lives together to figure it out, if Rey and Ben and possibly several hundred generations’ worth of Jedi ghosts have anything to say about the matter. Which they do.

Miss Johnson & the Professor for blackheretic (redlondons)

Her heart wants to erupt through her throat, and she audibly gulps, trying to keep her gaze from the only place it wants to go. Thank fuck his eyes are so hypnotic; she can get lost in them as she stammers for English syllables. “Y-Yes, Dr. Solo?” “Seriously, Rey.” Is he blushing? Surely not. “I’ve known you all year, call me Ben.” “Ben,” she mumbles. It tastes like delicious sacrilege. “I actually think you’re in my bed.” “Huh?” “The couch. I was going to sleep there. Remember?” Rey clutches the blanket to her collarbone, hoping the light fabric is tented loosely enough to cover her breasts. Fuck, why does he have to be so distractingly hot? “No, it’s all right. I don’t mind, Professor.” “Ben," he insists firmly. “And I won’t be able to sleep at all knowing I’m comfy in a bed while you’re sleeping on that thing.”

Owner Malfunction. for Bombastique

One year after surviving Execgol, Rey and Ben Solo find themselves in each other's company after they are both captured while trying to take back the Falcon from Kanjiklub remnants. (AKA - The Force, the Falcon, love, and droids.)

Stealing the Light for bratanimus

Redemption isn’t given. It’s earned. Or: As the galaxy rebuilds from war, the man formerly known as Kylo Ren tries to make peace with the person he was, and the person he’s becoming.

Rey Niima and the American (Hot Piece of) Ass that She Just Wants to Tap, while also Not Dying in the Triwizard Tournament or Becoming Otherwise Inconvenienced or Maimed for Cairdiuil_Paiste

Completed for the prompt: Hogwarts AU! Triwizard tournament time with seventh year Rey representing Hogwarts. She wants to impress the MACUSA representative to strengthen her chances of joining their graduate programme. Too bad American diplomat Ben Solo doesn't seem to like her…

a forest of stars for caisha

Rey works hard at the diner to save up for her long dreamed-of vacation to Finland. She's lonely, but that's not new. What is new is Kylo Ren, the CEO of Orpheus Corp and new boss of her best friend Finn. When Finn and Kylo Ren stop by the diner for lunch, Rey feels as though she's finally met someone who understands her. But who is Kylo Ren, and what's his secret? A Modern Fae AU

I am a Soul Longing for Ceallaigh

Rey has spent the last two years searching the galaxy for clues about how to bring Ben back. Now, finally, it seems she has a solid lead. The planet Xolutel is said to be a vergence in the Force, and myth has it there's a hidden temple where worshipers of the Force were granted their deepest desires. No matter how slim the possibility, Rey owes it to Ben and herself to check it out. She's not known to give up easily.

The World Has Been Sad Since Tuesday for ceciliasheplin

The creature on his bed defied explanation, but Kylo Ren had a distinct feeling that there was nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. At least, not in this room. Demons lay in wait outside, but not here. Best not to let anyone know about this.

Be With Me for Chthonia

A force connection between Kylo (Ben), and Rey. It takes place while she is on Ach-To, and he is on the Death Star.

between the shadow and the soul for ClockworkCrow (icemink)

“You and Skywalker have been keeping it a secret,” she said, her eyes searching his face to catch him when he lies. “But I know the truth. I learned it, the day after we fought on Mustafar. That Lord Vader was his father, and your grandfather.” He struggled against her stasis but she pushed back harder, her power swirling around them both. “Rey—” “Don’t you see, Ben?” There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “The darkness is inside of you, too. You don’t have to keep fighting it. You were meant to be mine.” Mine. . or: Jedi Knight Ben Solo should really stop doing smuggling runs with his father. Kira Ren should really stop trying to turn him to the dark side.

The Rescue for cohava

“What is it?” Ben asked, watching the worry lines form on Rey’s forehead as she checked the message that had just pinged through her datapad. “Poe’s leading the relief efforts on Faratula. There’s a boy there, Force sensitive. Orphaned. Poe says it’s a pretty bad situation.” “Let’s go get him, then,” he said without pausing.

how easy you are to need for Crimson_Alchemistress

The war is finished, yet Rey still carries wounds. They come in the form of nightmares, but Ben is there to comfort her.

stuck on how it feels here next to you for crossingwinter

Around four months ago, Ben and Rey married out of convenience. It had started that way and one of the key reasons why they had agreed to this in the first place was the condition that neither had romantic feelings for the other. This is their life, both head of heels for the other while not really knowing what to do about it.

Blue Sand for Crysania

The pale crimson sun rises above the horizon across the fields. A slight wind gently brushed Rey’s face. She left the ship and coverded herself with a blue scarf from a desert heat. She stepped forward, carefully observing the small city before her. Hot sand was burning her feets despite thick soles of boots. “This is going to be disaster,” she told herself with a crooked smile.

covert mission: baby acquisition for crystanagahori

In which Rey decides she's ready to start a family of her own and Ben Solo, her boss and dear friend, would make the perfect sperm donor. * It was a stupid, girlish crush. One that likely wasn’t reciprocated, and could land her in a world of trouble with HR if she acted brashly. But still, she wanted him. He could waive his parental rights for all she cared. They could enter into some sort of contract, if such things existed. But he was the perfect candidate, the ideal sperm donor. Ben Solo.

hands that hurt, hands that heal for cuddlesome

Rey climbs on top of Ben and makes out with his sopping self after Force healing his stab wound.

It was not Death, for I stood Up for CwenPhy

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

Good Boy for dankobah

Rey takes her dog to a nearby veterinary clinic for an emergency and doesn't expect to meet Ben (or anyone) while there.

The Unbreakable Bond for DarkSideOfMe

After Crait, Rey thought she had severed their Force Bond, or at least closed it, but some weeks ago she started feeling it, a presence in the back of her mind. Then she could hear him saying her name or other random words or feelings: concern, anxiety, loneliness, longing..to be fair, she didn’t know who those feelings belonged to, if there were Kylo’s or hers. And that was the other reason to put an end to this; she wasn’t ready to deal with anything different to her anger and disappointment. She had to focus on her training, on the Resistance, in their fight against “his” First Order. She was scared, scared of something she couldn’t put a name to, and last night had just showed her how important it was to break their connection. It was time to read the Jedi texts she’s been putting off for too long.

NiimaRide for datswatutink

Journey urge her not to stop believin' but provide no further clarification before she's strapped in the back seat and they're pulling away from the only real break she's had in twenty-four years.

To Hold and Give Light for dearly

After Exegol, Rey takes an injured Ben back to the Resistance.

a conundrum of lightsabers for devon380black (kryptonian17)

In the aftermath of Crait, Rey is left with two halves of a broken lightsaber she has no idea how to fix. As her force bond conversations with Ben continue, she comes to understand he's the only one who can help her with her problem. Maybe if they can repair one thing, they can repair something else too.

What Happens in Hotel Chandrila for DrPearlGatsby

Accompanying her best friends to a Galaxy Wars convention in Chandrila sounded like a good idea at first. But third-wheeling sucks, and that's how Rey finds herself daydrinking alone at the hotel bar. And then she gets a free drink from a tall, brooding, handsome stranger…

Until the Wild Feelings Leave You for dustoftheancients

Rehabilitating from a battle injury leaves Rey an irritable mess. The way Ben hovers over her does nothing to help.

Kintsugi for ElegyGoldsmith

In the darkest moments, the galaxy is still filled with light.

give me shapes and letters, if it’s not forever for ElleRen31

She holds out her hand, “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Rey. I work at the flower shop next door.” He must be new, or she’s just a shut-in during work because she would’ve remembered seeing him after a year of being here. “I’m Kylo, I own the tattoo shop.” He points to his building and her eyebrows raise as he shakes her hand. Owner? So he’s the head honcho? She hums to herself and then keeps the smile plastered on her face. Then she sets her sights on the dogs, “What are their names?”

Where the ocean goes for Elywyngirlie

Sometimes getting out alive is the victory. Sometimes the rest takes a little time.

it shall not be death for englishable

Rey of the Jedi Knights is sent with her sword and Holy Fire, to destroy a palace of thorns. It doesn't quite go as planned.

The Reckoning for Erin410

Because of Rey, Ben has grown rather good at waiting. But she’s waiting, too, for something that hasn’t dawned on him yet. [Post-TROS mildly angsty marriage proposal fluff, hope you enjoy!]

Trading Places for Fairleigh

Kylo… Kylo awoke to the sound of her whimpering his name. He sat bolt upright in Rey’s extremely uncomfortable cot. Anxious for her safety, he reached out for her with his mind. Rey? He heard her moan and heat instantly pooled between his legs. Curious. The sensation was different but not unwelcome. Then he saw Rey, or rather he saw himself, naked and writhing on his bed. His mouth fell open. Rey was... masturbating. He watched in awe as she pumped his shaft up and down, slowly but forcefully. Kylo… She called his name again.

You'll Turn for FangirlintheForest

A retelling of the Last Jedi's elevator and throne room scenes with a role reversal twist. Can Smuggler Ben turn Dark Rey?

Building Something Together for fantastic_fanatics

When Ben confronts his new upstairs neighbor who keeps making all manner of odd noises at all manner of hours, he didn't expect what she's doing up there. He also didn't expect her to be so pretty.

Little Starfighter for Fic_me_senseless

Convinced he ruins everything he touches, isolated and lonely Ben Solo successfully pushes everyone away, except for the girl who sees something in him she recognizes.

Benvenuto nella nostra famiglia for gennalannisters

"Well, I have sensitive information here. Dinner is just actually a ploy. It’s actually an interrogation to make sure you didn't read the documents." She turned and smirked at him as they headed down the stairs, "If that's the case, I'm happy to be interrogated through wining and dining.” Love is in the air at Harvard Square.

Binary Suns for gigi_marlee

Young Ben Solo meets a young Rey. The two form an intense and instant attachment to the confusion of Ben's parents and his Uncle, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. What is a dyad and what will it mean for two children who have found belonging in each other?

more everything for HalfwayThrough

"I'm the boss, I've earned the right to show up whenever the fuck I want." He was arrogant, condescending, and an asshole. And he didn't have a mark on his wrist.

One Stick of Unsalted Butter for HopeRebel

Rey's neighbor is the rudest, least considerate person she had to interact with. However, when she runs out of butter in the middle of night trying to bake cookies for Rose's birthday, there is only person she knows is awake and he is her only hope. Of course, things don't go according to plan.

come home, ben for hxllosweetie33

He looked at their hands, watched as Rey intertwined their fingers together, and fought the back the shutter from the contact. “ Rey…” He whispered. She brought her hand to his face – calloused tips brushing against his scar – observing his face, every detail of it, the bags and dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, his dry lips, the lack of light behind his eyes.

Ashes of Life for iamladyloki

Dark Rey becomes a reality and Ben has to remind her who she is

Negotiated Settlement for ilum

General Leia Organa has brought a small team with her to Kaytuu 5, expecting to negotiate a ceasefire between the First Order-controlled planetary government and local Resistance fighters. Unfortunately, Supreme Leader Armitage Hux has other plans. Rey will need the assistance of a Certain Someone who no longer calls himself Kylo Ren if she and her friends are to save the day.

Coming Home for incognitajones

After the Battle of Exegol, Rey and an injured Ben are trapped together on an uninhabited planet.

The Stray for itsinthestars

Rey moves in across the hall from Ben; a former foster kid alone in the city, aspiring to be an actress. Ben is a ladder-climbing white collar businessman with a horrible boss and zero social life. Which is just the way he likes it. So why in the world has this insufferable creature made it her life's work to adopt him? From sharing her dinner to doing his laundry, she seems determined to make a connection. In the end, it's easier for Ben to just let her. But opening up means letting your heart be vulnerable.

Peace and Purpose for itsnotillegal

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Christmas Blues for karlamartinova

The first snow had fallen, covering the ground like a white blanket. The emergence of winter weather always marked the increase of Christmas moods. The season when people fervently decorated their houses and you couldn’t walk through the mall or downtown area without hearing a Christmas jingle. The neighborhood already sparkled with multicolored lights and inflated or authentic snow-made snowmen. Rey Johnson’s festive mood rose with each house she drove by, her fingers tapping on the wheel as “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree”faded and transitioned into another song.

prince and the sea for kuresoto

Prince Ben Chewbacca Solo Organa, descendant of the house of Naberrie and the line of Skywalker, heir to the Starbird pirate fleet, has followed in the family tradition of slaying monsters and ruling the high seas. Which in no way is an attempt at ignoring his soulmate bond.

what stranger miracles for La_Catrina

Ben can’t even manage to die right, apparently.

the universe resting in my arms for Lightningpelt

Rey sees Ben, quietly tooling around the Skywalker homestead, his hands wet with mechanic's grease, and the image is so perfect that she holds her breath, not wanting to mar it with a loud breath.

counting my steps, reaching out to you for Lizardbeth

All her life, Rey has felt snatches of someone else's emotions, seen visions of other places, other people she's certain she's never seen before. In a world where everything had been taken away from her, this connection was hers alone. She is wholly unprepared for the day she finds out that the person at the other end of the connection is a Jedi fighting as part of the Resistance against her delusional Master.

Soulmates for LostInQueue

After Ben Solo disappears in front of her eyes, she finds a way to bring him back, where love began…

Heal for LRRH17

A few weeks after the Battle of Crait, the Force connects Rey and Ben again on several occasions.

Softly, Softly for lucymonster

When the Resistance start to pick up distress calls from defecting Stormtroopers, they move to save as many as they can. It doesn't occur to them that the First Order might be after the same renegades until they're right on top of them.

First Impressions and Unexpected Connections for LueurdeLaube

War has ravaged the galaxy, but finally, there is a chance at peace. Her grandfather arranges for Princess Rey Palpatine to wed the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, broadcast across the galaxy to usher in the new era. They've never met before, but he's sent her letters.

All These Things That I've Done for MahoganyDoodles

Someone dropped down to Rey's level and reached for the empty plastic shell of her case. She stilled for a moment, afraid that she was about to get smacked with it, afraid to look up. “Sorry about him,” she heard over the sound of her heart beating through her ears. Not Hux? This voice was deeper. Rey looked up and saw Ben Solo in front of her, holding out the case for her, a sympathetic look in his dark brown eyes.

For Now for maq_moon

There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn't know, and he doesn't tell her.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #for one is love and both are one in love #master post #mod post #moodboard

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catboyminato · 4 years

Text

punk!Minato brain rot at 2 am headcannons isn’t this quality content

do I wanna know and daddy issues as a person

he has an undercut bc I said so 🔫

probably gets dress coded like every day tbh (that’s disgusting and rude ❤️ his fit is incredible 😌)

leather jackets and doc martens type beat

probably customized his Gekkoukan uniform so much it doesn’t even look like a uniform 😭😭

canon: hello my name is minato nice to meet u ig

this Minato: why the FUCK do u a have a gun and can I try it and what the FUCK is going on out there what is that ugly ass green that graces my delicate eyes

Mitsuru “oh wow! I hate him.” kirijo

SEES has a fuck jar for every time he says fuck

minato, opening a door: what’s up fuckers

Minato, making a sandwich: where the fuck is the bread

Minato, watching TV: what the fuck im not crying it’s just dusty as fuck in here

SEES, broke: pls,,,,stop

“kIrIjO-sAn wHeN dO i gEt tO bLoW sHiT uP”

extremely disappointed that his persona is Orpheus he wanted smth cooler

“who the fuck plays a Lyre?? what the fuck is this?? intro to theatre?? give me the cool big scary one that popped out of u rn” —Minato Arisato

Orpheus: :,(

“fuck the system and eat the rich”

“what about Mitsuru-Senpai?”

“eat. the. rich.”

Mitsuru absolutely despises this man with a burning passion

junpei thinks he’s cool (and is jealous but who wouldn’t be tbh)

yukari thinks he’s refreshing compared to miss “I SiGneD YoU uP fOr SUMMEr ScHool” and mr “pRoTein”

now she’s stuck with mr “good morning everyone, *looks at Mitsuru* not you though, you can choke”

at least he has a sense of style 😽

he doesn’t like Mitsuru (omg what gave that away 🙀)

he thinks she’s 1. too stuck up 2. is rich and eat the rich and 3. is partially the cause of this whole mess 😻

no longer boy with headphones he’s boy with foul mouth 😌

lowkey kinda smart but you’d never be able to tell

✨tattoos ✨

literally always coming back to the dorm with bruises and scratches and nobody knows why

spoiler: it’s bc he’ll hear ppl talking shit about his friends (yeah even Mitsuru🔪) and will beat the shit out of them 😼

he got into a brawl in the hallway with 5 kids after he heard them talking shit about Shinji after he died ❤️ as he should king

Shinjiro and Minato said “tough on outside but softies on inside” rights and that’s what they bond over 😽

they’re lowkey pretty close and bc I said so Minato met Shinji early after exploring that part of town he’s in

now they’re punk buddies 😼 (is Shinji punk agsjashajsh oh well ❤️)

Minato would actually die for each and every one of SEES even if he doesn’t show it

the tough guy facade was born from his parents death as a coping mechanism so he never got hurt again 😝

Minato “im a motherfucking wildcard bitches” Arisato

peircings 😼

he looks scary we know but you’d never guess he spends time with like a 9 year old and buys her dinner and listens to her problems (we stan)

we love a man who can sit and listen 😌✨

yukari saw him buy Maiko takayoki and decided “hmm this is new” and thus began the cycle of “hes not so tough after all”

Junpei’s “he’s not so tough after all” was him spending time with the elderly couple who runs Bookworms 😌

Akihiko noticed how, if he could, Minato would take hits for teammates

someone tried to mess with Fuuka and he sent them to the ✨h o s p i t a l✨

fuukas realization was when the scary looking boy who cuffs his jeans and has tats made friends with her 😽

Mitsuru’s took a hot minute bc uhhhhh slowburn 🤠

hers was how he continuesly tried to help the student body even tho they rejected him bc uh he’s kinda ✨s c a r y✨

which was like?? interesting to her tbh bc these were the kids who dubbed him the outsider and yet he still strived to help them 😾

so she made the twink part of student council

and he kinda went off ngl 😀

and that’s on being a valuable asset ✨

although he only calls Mitsuru “daddy issues” which pisses her off ❤️

her personal ✨d i s c o v e r y✨ is him lending his blazer (HAJSHS the “blazer” covered in pins and chains 😭😭 which is ripped in some places 😽) one day as an umbrella 🥺

“you’ll catch a cold, daddy issues”—says the bitch soaking wet after letting her use his jacket

when he’s a gentleman 😫

when they get past the enemies stage to friends 😩

mitsuru thinks his perspectives are outlandish and refreshing

“just say no tf”—his answer in being told she needs a fiancé

did he lie tho 😭

apologizes for being a dick 🤩

will beat the fuck outta anyone who disrespects his rich friend ❤️

haha kinda scary when he’s mad ❤️

what’s that wipes blood from mouth while smiling aesthetic cause that’s him

fashionable king we love to see it

ceo of smirking

ceo of “hey daddy issues”

ceo of “fuck”

he got his earring stuck to his pillow once and only Shinji knows

“Does it fucking look like I read?” —Minato arisato who read the entire twilight series and is an Edward stan

akihiko likes to brawl with him cuz he thinks his street fighting style is nifty

can literally hear him from a mile away due to his loud ass chains and boots (stealth 0 ❤️)

has small monochromatic Arcana inspired tattoos littered around his torso (it’s a game of where’s Waldo 🤩)

“I don’t listen to pop.”—says Minato on his way to listen to One Direction

Mitsuru likes to ask what each tattoo means (sometimes it’s just like “idk i saw a guy I beat up once have it and I thought it was cool 😼”)

“rude boy” (what not based off the rihhana song where did u get that 🤠) is Mitsuru’s nickname for him

likes collecting pins 🤠

has way too much jewelry yukari will just steal some occasionally 💀

lowkey self conscious about being seen with Mitsuru

lmfao imagine seeing this punk who only wears leather jackets, doc martens and ripped jeans holding hands with the literal polar opposite of him

taking 🖤🩸🛹 and ❤️📚💳 to a whole a new level

he thinks she can do better and doesn’t want to tarnish her name 🤧

mitsuru learned from him it’s not her obligation to give two flippity flying fucks and WILL hold his hand as they walk down the hallways 😌✨

LMFAO imagine ure just a regular student and all of sudden the student council president who owns the whole damn school walks in wearing the foul mouthed blue haired punks jacket 😭

“What in the wattpad”—Gekkoukan

“what in the goth x prep”—SEES

Minato has fine ass eyeliner sorry I don’t make the rules ❤️

in conclusion punk!minato is best Minato

#not me making most of this mitsumina #his aesthetic...the ✨p o w e r✨#slowed songs with reverb are his aesthetic ❤️#mitsumina but make their song ✨r u d e b o y✨#someone draw it #persona 3 #minato arisato #makoto yuki #mitsuru kirijo #yukari takeba #junpei iori #fuuka yamigishi #akihiko sanada #shinjiro aragaki #p3 #sakuya shiomi #my shit #door talks #headcannons

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

Text

Winner’s Curse Ch. 21

I’m back and the story’s back! Hope you enjoy. It’s the final countdown. Only 9 more chapters to go. Enjoy!

“I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this!” Calix hissed once his mother walked through the door.

Circe hastily finished closing the door, taking extra care to double check the locks on the marble doorway, though Calix suspected that was more for the sake of gathering her thoughts together than caution. As suspicious and paranoid villains could be, Coven members rarely tried to intrude in each other’s rooms or meddle in their business. Probably an ego thing, thinking the doings of others were beneath them.

Not that this was important to Calix right now.

They were on crunch time. In a week, less than a week considering the sun was already setting today, the Coven would invade Auradon. Wrecking long-awaited vengeance, and chaos on Auradonians. Auradonians, who, if we’re being honest, were too sheltered and pampered to know how to slap much less defend themselves. There would be blood if they didn’t stop it.

And his mom, his mom who never tried to drag people to “the other side” or cared who was the fairest, who was not vying to be the baddest of them all, was still going along with this.

“Calix, I told you, there’s no other option.” Circe faced him, elegantly strutting toward the nearest ottoman where she could talk to him face to face. Just like the old times, when she would give him romance advice or assure him he would not die from alcohol poisoning, but that’s what he got for trying to drink Bacchus under the table.

Only instead of maternal advice, the son was the one trying to steer his mother away from murder.

“Yes, there is an option.” Calix stressed the last words, mangling the velvet cushions under his grip. The only thing keeping him from taking one of the many statues of muscled Greek heroes and throwing it against the walls in frustration.

“You still have the option to do the right thing. Join us. King Ben will grant full pardon for being part of the original Coven. You’ll be considered a hero.”

“Hmph! You’re right. If I reformed, then they’ll completely forget my crimes.” Circe said sarcastically.

“Oh right, I did do that! I stopped turning men, idiots really, into animals. I found love, I raised a son, made a business and they still sent me here! I’m sorry but there’s no right option.” Circe’s face lost her bitter scowl for a moment, returning to the maternal gesture reserved for him. One that conveyed comfort but also firmness, “Not for me. Life’s just not fair.”

“But Mom….” Calix whined, cringing at how childish it was but also feeling the pit in his stomach grow. He felt helpless. He’d always been able to get his Mom to see his point of view. But that had been in small disputes like whether he should be allowed to go to Orpheus’ concert on a school night or not grounding him for fighting with one of his cousins and punching him in the face. Minor things really.

None of them dealing with Circe’s values or worldview or any of her decisions.

This time he was trying to fight her on something she actually cared about. And gods, he was losing. Or maybe his mom was as stubborn as Minos and he simply hadn’t noticed it before.

Either one boded badly for his friends.

“I’m sorry, koukla. Honestly I wished I had you before the Great Uniting. You would have been there during the fires and earthquakes and all that. The “Life’s not fair” wouldn’t be so surprising.” Circe gripped his hand, rubbing her fingers lovingly. But it was only jarring for Calix. It was like some surreal, sick joke that his Mom was acting like their disagreement was over a menial thing and not life or death. Good and Evil.

So Calix snatched his hand from his Mom’s grasp and squared his shoulders. Time to get tough because clearly he couldn’t rely on motherly love to just do what he wanted. He’d have to be rational. Play to her sense of self, and what she would get out of this.

“Athena help me.” He prayed.

“I know life is not fair already, Mom. You think I didn’t realize that when they shipped you here. Life is not fair. But what I don’t get is that you won’t consider leaving the Coven. You’re not like them, you don’t want to kill anyone.”

“No,” Circe sighed in admittence, slumping and conceding to him. A little bit but it was something. “I just want to turn King Adam into that Beast form he hates so much. Wait, no, no. A slug. If he becomes a beast, he has too much power to fight back.”

Calix stood up and began to pace around the room, tapping his chin as if in thought that he’d seen Socretes do during his lectures before zinging a student with some philosophical epiphany, “Really? You’re sticking with them, murderers and tyrannical narcissists for petty revenge.”

“Not petty! I’ve always been a reasonable person!” Circe yelled, selectively forgetitng the many exes she transformed because she got bored with them, “He is punishing me for my past mistakes. This damn Isle is “consequences for my actions.” Bastard! I’m giving him consequences for his actions, he’s going to be a slug!”

Calix nodded as if he understood how his Mom felt. Which he had at one point. But now, he was tired and slightly bruised and again, so so tired. He wanted this to be over. The mission. The spying on the Coven. This stupid repetitive fight.

“Mom, you’re not like them. We both know that. But other people don’t. Auradon will only remember you as one of the many evil Coven members. Not a reformed sorceress injustly sent here, trying to get back to her-”

His mom looked at him, a rush of emotions crossing her face in an instant. Understanding, thoughtfulness, concern, anger, resolve and firmness. “Enough, Calix, I made up my mind. I have nothing left. With the Coven, I get some sweet revenge. What do I get if I reform? A pardon while that hypocritical King Adam waits for a new mob requesting for “villains” to get shipped.”

Firmness and resolve were flush on her face. Firmness and resolve to stick with the Coven.

Calix breathed deeply, feeling an unwanted lump gather in his throat as he listened to his mom make possibly the biggest mistake of their lives.

And worse, that she felt she had to do this because she had nothing left.

Was he not there? He was something… someone who desperately wanted her back home. He wanted her so badly that his chest ached as another weight settled there. Couldn’t she see that? This mission, this seriousness and emotional honesty that he usually avoided most of his life, he was doing this because he wanted her back.

And she thought she had nothing.

He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice though he did his best. “You have nothing left if you choose to help the good? You’d get to live in Greece again. With me, your son. But I guess I’m not worth… I’m not-you know, since you have “nothing left.”

He turn to walk out the room, barely remembering to walk out the room was to be exposed in the hallway for any of the Coven to jeer and question him. Who already distrusted his surprise presence. So he swerved onto the right where the mosaic of Hermes’ cadacus was like an arrow to the private bathroom. Not better but he wanted to be alone.

He breathed in the faint wisp of steam that pervaded the room. His mom’s paltry attempt to make the closet-sized space echo the bathhouses at home. It had the faint hint of rotten bananas, another reminder of the poverty and dirt of the Isle that everyone wanted to get away from.

He sat on the toilet, hugging his knees to his chest like he had when he was a little and peering through the keyhole at one of his mom’s parties. It was a perfect position for how he felt, like a little boy who could do nothing to change his world. Just stare through the keyhole in relative safety and wait to see what would happen next.

He was hidden and alone.

So alone as he could hear his mom’s footsteps as she walked, he could see a pause outside the door from the shadow that peeked from the floor. But she didn’t knock. She walked away, walked away to the other door into the hallway to do who knows what with the Coven.

Damn his mom with her ideas of being a cool free range parent. For once, he actually wanted one of those Auradon helicopter moms he heard about. Like FG, constantly getting into his business and not letting arguments go.

Could his mom not see the big picture?

While she was storming King Adam’s castle for her damn revenge, the rest of the Coven would be destroying the kingdom. People wouldn’t just get transformed into animals. Hades, that would be a blessing. People would get killed.

And how could she forget him? He was willing to fight for their mission, he knew that he would have to when he agreed to join Jordan, but did his Mom not realize if the Coven took over, they’d mark him for dead. They’d go behind her back and her claims of “protection” to make sure he wouldn’t start any rebellions like he was doing now.

He glanced around the small room, desperate for something to numbly occupy his mind before he thought about something darker. His eyes landed on the cabinet.

Any Greek worth their sandals would carry some ouzo in their homes, and since he hadn’t since a wine rack in his mom’s museum-like room…...

Sweet Nike! There was a whole shelf of shot glasses with ouzo already poured into them. Circe must have needed it to deal with living in this dump and all the villains around her.

If there was anything that would help him with the awful weight on his chest, it would be this.

He lifted one shot glass to his lips and drank, relishing the sweet burning liqued that went down his throat as smoothly as a waterfall.

Then he took another glass, and he was about to reach for the third when a small, quiet voice reminded him that there was still a mission at stake. He had to report back to Uma and the others and give them the bad news that his mom would definitely not be helping them.

Normally, that reminder would have sent him to gulping down four more drinks but this time it stilled his hand.

Like he told his mother, there was a bigger picture at stake than just her revenge. There were bigger things at stake than his own feelings of sadness. He slowly closed the cabinet, leaning his head against the cool mirror. He tried to do the deep breathing and focus.

This was hard. Gods, it was hard, he had known that going in.

And okay, maybe he’d known that but hadn’t believed it until this moment.

He had thought it would be fun, just like another one of those adventures or a fairytale.

Auradon was built on fairytales and he had thought there would take the requisite two or three days, they fight a dragon or two and then they’d go home in victory and as a family.

But it’d been a month, they found out the villain’s grand plan but had no way to solve it and now, he was having personal issues with his mom.

This would be a good time for what Jordan dubbed, a deus ex machine or just in time denouncement.

“Life’s not fair.” That’s what his Mom said. Not just now, but several times. When his dad died, speared by an Arendellan fisherman’s net. Yet another thing Circe despised King Adam for, because those fishermen came from the King’s initiative for kingdoms to share their resources.

The Arendellans hadn’t been properly vetted, or simply hadn’t paid attention to the orientation that not all sirens were trying to siren-song them to their deaths. That some simply lounge around the oceans because it was literally their home.

He had learned that after he experienced his first time being dumped last year. Which honestly had been more of a shock than a devastation but still.

His mom being sent away had been the worst by far. This coming in a close second.

But in all the times, he learned that life was not fair. He also learned to deal with it and try to keep moving with his life. At one point there had been nothing he would have liked more to have stormed the castle and changed all the suspicious mobs into mice. That’s why he made friends with Morgaine Le Fey. She was the only one who understood the anger and pain he felt, and it felt good to share his revenge fantasies.

But that’s all they were. Fantasies. Rationally, he knew that would only prove their fears right.

Calix learned to adjust his attitude a bit after his mom left, trying his best to stay out of trouble now that his mother wouldn’t be able to bail him out of the dungeon. Also he was more aware of how people viewed him in light of his siren-sorcerer heritage. Where once he played up his casanova flirtatiousness, now he tried to moderate himself.

And he had been fine.

Part of his outgoingness was a purposefully middle finger to the Auradonian Magic Ban. He played up all the things the royals hated like awesome kinky sex, and lavish magic acts because what else could he do? He had no reason to go to a fancy school with the preppy royals. But he also couldn’t pursue a normal job since the magic that was part of him was forbidden.

So there was nothing to do but get into the dungeons a lot.

But in trying to curb himself into something more “acceptable,” it was annoying but also nice?

Sure, he had resented it at first, but it was also nice?

Not trying so hard to be so unflappable, to have a pick up line for every man and woman. Stop trying to hide the fact that occasionally he wanted to act like that romantic prince archtype who wrote poems and made sculptures for their beloved because sirens didn’t do that. To hide that he could be serious, that his feelings got hurt when someone, usually a satyr because satyrs are cranky assholes, crossed a line. Maybe it was adapting, maybe he was growing up?

He didn’t know, but he lifted his head from the mirror and the twitch in his hands to reach for another shotglass was gone.

It was time to man up and be serious. It sucked that his mom wasn’t going to help, but he still had a job to do to save Aurado. After all, maybe if they saved the Coven, KIng Ben would allow his mom back as a favor. Jordan was always saying he was a sweet pushover. Yeah, there was still a chance he could get his mom off the Isle. And then-

“Hey, Cal, how are you doing?” A warm breeze ruffled his hair in a show of pink smoke and there was Jordan leaning her chin in the crook of her neck like the most annoying yet heartstopping ghost ever.

Calix choked back a scream, losing his balance at the sight of another person in front of the mirror. This fall resulted in Calix hitting his head several times against the door in his ungraceful slide down the wall.

Probably looking more like a scandelized royal than a put together teenager with his hand clutching his heart, Calix gasped for his pulse to go back to normal.

“Fucking genies! Jordan, I told you, warn me before you pop up. Remember, you had that whole lesson about the importance of knocking before entering? It’s the same thing, I almost had a fucking heart attack!”

Jordan didn’t care, she simply raised an accusatory eyebrow, “Are you drinking?”

How the fuck did she always know that? Calix was sincerely starting to suspect that she planted a magic tracer on him. The number of times she popped when he was having a drink was too coincenidental. Or maybe he just drank all the time?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. He was a new, mature Calix now.

“Just a shot-” Calix held up a hand before Jordan could interrupt him, “Just a shot. But I stopped because we have bigger things to worry about like how my mom isn’t on our side.” Jordan slid down to sit next to him, “You stopped because I came in time, admit it.”

Calix rolled his eyes, “No, it wasn’t that. I stopped but I listened to the Jiminy Cricket that I finally released from the dungeons of my brain.”

Jordan put a hand on his, the serious anxious look that had become her normal expression the past month returned, “Calix, I know this thing with your mom is hard, but now is not the time to fall apart. Things will get better, I don’t know how, but I need you to promise me not to touch alcohol.”

Calix stared at Jordan, realizing that this wasn’t one of their usual banters. She really thought he was going to go on a binge, right at this moment.

Yes, Calix had done that before. The days after his father’s death for instance and his mom’s absence. But he hadn’t been on an high stakes mission then. It was just himself and his grief.

But to binge drink, when someone was depending on him. Never. She knew that. When they had a night on the town with Aziz, he had been the sober one. He refused the drinks his way because someone had to be the designated carpet flyer. And filmer of embarrassing drunken antics.

Though Jordan may have been too drunk to notice herself, his self-imposed maturity.

But did she really think that he’d fall apart at this moment when he managed to keep himself together for the past seven months. For the 4 weeks on this hellish Isle?

“Jordan, I am not on a bender.” Calix enunciated each word carefully, staring her straight in the eye so she could he was serious. A bit of an intimidating feat if Calix was being honest with himself. Not because it was Jordan, but because… well the only one he was serious or honest was with his mom. But there was a first time for everything.

“I am not drinking on this mission. The shot was a lapse but I know I’m on a bigger mission right now, so I stopped.” “But you never-”

“I used to. But I have matured. We all have matured if you haven’t noticed. The usual doesn’t apply here, so I promise you, I’m not going to drink my sorrows away. There is too much at stake.”

Jordan looked a bit freaked out by his proclamation because she was staring at him all wide-eyed, “But-are you sure? I don’t think you’re capable of-”

Calix clenched his jaw and glared. It was one thing for himself to be surprised at his maturity but it was kind of insulting that it was so hard for his best friend to comprehend. That apparently she thought he was “incapable” of change.

“Yes, I am. So are you going to insult me some more or would you like to carry on with important things like how are we going to pull this off without my mom’s extra power?”

Jordan closed her mouth, satisfactorily chastened. And then in another milestone of their first emotional talk, Jordan muttered under her breath, “Sorry.”

Eh, not really meaningful but it was enough.

“It’s fine.” Calix nudged her shoulder with his to show their was no real hard feelings.

Jordan didn’t look at him but leaned her head on his shoulder, “I’ve been messing up so much lately.”

Calix pursed his lips, not trusting himself to not say something that would send her in a mood. He’d seen her being all moody and mopy the last few days though he didn’t know the exact reason. She was probably regretting giving the leadership position to Uma (drunken decisions are rarely ones you enjoy the consequences of) but Calix thought she made a good choice. Uma was a bit stern and intimidating, but she knew she was doing and was more effective than Jordan could ever be.

He also sensed the tension between her and Aziz. Especially since that meant she was hanging around him more. Usually he wouldn’t mind that, but this was hanging out with an ulterior motive and he wasn’t going to get in the middle of whatever Agrabah sandstorm that was between them.

“Hey, you still have me. Besides, now we’re having that alone time talk that the heroes and sidekicks or the love interests have before they save the day. We can check that off our adventure list.” Jordan lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him incredulously, “Wait whose the sidekick in the scenario?”

“You are, obviously! You’re the genie.” Calix said.

“Wha-but but-why can’t we be love interests?” Jordan protested. “We’re already friends with benefits. It’s too late for us.” Calix answered. “Well, I-”

There was a knock on the door, and a tentative, “Calix?” “I‘ll leave you to it, Uma says to report at 4 sharp.” Jordan whispered, and poofed away.

Calix opened the door, feeling more calm, “Yes, Mom?” Calix was swept into the warm arms of his mom, the smell of sea salt and roses sweeping over him as she hugged him tighter. Firm, steady, like she wasn’t going to let him go.

But she did, holding onto his shoulders, “I’m sorry, Calix. You’re right.”

“I am?” Calix asked, almost hitting himself in the head for questioning it instead of just celebrating.

“Yes, you’re right. I went to another meeting and I listened. I actually listened instead of envisioning what I would do with Beast.. And.. it’s stupid to say this. But they’re evil. Actually evil. It’s not just a “cross the border and destroy everything in sight” plan. They- they’re actually thorough. Mother Gothel and Evil Queen are using sorcery and the dwarf tunnels to get through to the castle. Nerissa and Maleficent are going to go in double dragon form and burn down the castle and corner the royal children in the basement. It’s just-I- I can’t ally myself with them.”

Circe’s eyes brimmed, “Especially when I have a son… I do want to come back to you. My revenge shouldn’t be before you.”

Calix nodded, pulling his mom in for another hug because gods knew they haven’t done this in a long time.

Now they had to report to the captain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Any idea where that wench is now?” Harry snarled, slamming down a glass of rum so roughly that CJ could hear the crack of glass as well see as the spider-cracks on its side from her position behind the window curtains.

It was a cliche spot. So obvious that no one would think to look there, and that’s why CJ chose it.

After all, a true pirate and a true villain had to keep track of her competition.

After last night’s, in CJ’s opinion, humiliating talk with the mini Ak Coven or whatever they called themselves, it was clear that Lady Caine was not going to honor her word.

Well… Lady Caine hadn’t said that they wouldn’t use her plan to take over the Jolly Roger, in fact she had asked for CJ’s plan outlines, but…

CJ bristled at the way Caine had shoved her aside and wouldn’t let her speak in front of the group. As if she was an afterthought. A kiddie tagalong.

It was too familiar a feeling. It was like she was one of the Hook siblings again. The youngest one, the baby trying to play an adult’s game.

And after all she’d done, getting to Auradon on her own before Harriet or Harry, going to Neverland to retrieve James Hook’s compass, stealing and plundering across the Seven Seas…. Everyone still didn’t see her as a pirate in her own right.

By Davy Jones’ locker that was all going to change even if that was that was the last thing she did! Screw Lady Caine, supposed mother or not, she didn’t need anyone’s assistance. She didn’t want to be part of Lady Caine’s revenge on Beast plan.

All she wanted was to be on her ship, on her own with her infamy riding the waves.

She was going to plunder the Jolly Roger by herself.

So she snuck out of Hans and Staylan’s castle… Actually, disappointingly enough to CJ’s sense of showmanship, it was more like she walked out of the castle since no one cared where she went anyway.

And now she hid out in Captain Hook’s office behind the curtains in hopes of hearing of any plans or information that would be helpful to CJ’s future theft.

Unfortunately Hook was not the one using the office. Apparently he was blacked out in his bedroom.

Harriet and Harry were the ones in charge of Hook’s office. Harriet being the heir to the Jolly Roger.

CJ grinded her teeth, a stupid childhood habit that she thought she had outgrown. Along with her more obsessive pacing, a Hook trademark with their fear of ticking crocodiles. CJ bit her lip instead trying to curb her instincts but teh word “heir” just irritated her to no end.

Why should Harriet be the heir? Seriously!?!

Her sister was tough. One of the baddest, most intimidating Vks with her scarred eye, tattered eyepatch and half shaved head. Not to mention the numerous kraken-inspired tattoos running down her arms and neck. Yeah, she looked the part of a seafaring pirate.

But she didn’t do anything worth the name of piracy.

She inherited the crew from Captain Hook, an easy feat since they were spineless swabs, brainless and obedient.

They were sidekicks whose idiocy often hindered their looting runs than helped. Much like Smee was the clueless thorn that ruined most of Hook’s plans.

Besides, everyone knew that things stolen on the Isle were useless and valueless. The biggest treasure chest that Harriet ever stole was one of Captain Hook’s old buried treasures. The coins rusted over or chewed by sea mammals.

A rotting bone would have been more bright and shiny than that treasure.

And Harry….

Harry never bothered to fight for himself. He lowered the Hook name by acting as a little enforcer and first mate to that sea witch, Uma.

CJ couldn’t believe she once idolized them.

“Dun know. Don’t care.” Harriet rasped, wiping her lips, and rolling her eyes in that bored babysitter way that CJ and Harry seen their whole lives.

Harriet was a pirate without ambition. Yet another reason why she, Calista Jane Hook, should be the famous Hook of them all.

“The welp is scheming against us, how can you not care?” Harry growled

“Because it is just another game to her. She’ll get bored with the ship and go off again. You knwo her, obsesses with one thing and moves on. It doesn’t matter.”

CJ clenched her fist, her grinding teeth sounding obnoxiously loud in her head. Another game. Moves on. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t matter.

She was still a kid to them. How can they not see how serious she was? Why couldn’t they once admit that she was a good pirate.

Why couldn’t they do that?

She knew they were capable of it. When they were younger, they didn’t hold to their Dad’s value that you couldnt say a nice thing about anyone but yourself. Or a particularly gorgeous jewel.

But they didn’t dismiss her like Dad. They acknowledged her quick thinking and even quicker fingers. Her strength in swinging on ropes for her piraty entrances.

Why couldn’t they do that now? It’s like they and the rest of the world grew up, but they didn’t think she did. She was still an inconsequential child. She didn’t matter.

And a thought… dark and unwelcome like the girl’s shadow creatures entered her mind.

Freddie’s warm, sultry smile and bright eyes looking at her with unbidden delight. The kind of smile that made CJ forget about the fresh sweet smell of sea kelp calling to her or golden treasures blinding her eyes. The smile that made her want to fall into Freddie’s dark spell and nimble fingers until she forgot what light was.

The same, curving lips telling her that she wasn’t worth it. That Freddie would rather stay in Auradon than sail the seas with her. That she’d rather change herself so she could be a goody goodie among the luxuries of Auradon than be with her. That’d she’d rather be like Mal and those other traitors than be with her.

Cj bit her lip harder, trying to find one thought any thought that would distract her from the memory that was threatening to make her sink to her knees.

Freddie Faciliar, for all that CJ tried to distance herself from the shadow girl, relegating her to sidekick, to simply a best friend and occasional lover… Freddie was one treasurer she had had that she loved most of all.

And even Freddie rejected her.

What was it? With all her skills and ambition that no one would take her seriously? That no one respected or wanted her enough to listen.

Freddie’s green eyes flashed once more in her mind, fading and fading much like Freddie herself from CJ’s life.

No one wanted to stay with her.

CJ grinded her teeth again, a small spark of pride and fury flaring up in her despite the limited amount of movement she could without being caught. Anger was better than weakness or sadness. She had to focus on that.

Her time would come.

The day of the invasion, when everyone was distracted, she would take her rightful place alongside Ching Shih and Captain Hook as a pirate for the history books.

She would take that sword mounted on Captain Hook’s wall and use it for herself. She’d make this brainless, spineless crew walk the plank. She’d cut the ropes and sail through the barrier.

She’d kill anyone who got in her way.

And if that person was her sibling, so be it. Then they’d take her seriously.

After all, a pirate needed to be ruthless and backstabbing to be the best.

Because that was who she was. The best pirate the Isle and Auradon had ever seen.

#calix #circe #disney descendants #winner’s curse #chapter twenty one #cj hook #harriet hook #harry hook #my fanfic #my fanfiction #ocs

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joyfulsongbird · 4 years

Text

Livin’ It Up On Top- 3/4

y’all this is like my favorite chapter, I’m in love with writing Seph, she’s the best

***

Eurydice isn’t a shy person, but spending time with Orpheus makes her feel like it. and it terrifies her. she keeps trying to bury the warmth that pools in her chest when she sees him, pushing it down until she can’t see it anymore. but it’s like plugging a faucet with your finger, the pressure builds and something is going to leak out, she’s going to blurt something out and ruin it. she knows Orpheus feels things for her, hell, he approached her with marriage first.

she convinces herself that staying with him, for just the one night can’t hurt anything, that sleeping on his couch while the cold passes over won’t do anything. he tried to get her to sleep on the bed, but she outright refused, she is just a tourist in these parts and this is his home, he has to sleep in his own bed. she’ll leave soon, she’ll leave and Orpheus will be heartbroken, and she’ll never see him again. good. Orpheus deserves someone... someone who isn’t like her, he deserves someone besides damaged goods. when summer comes, she’ll go, she’ll travel farther south where the winters aren’t as harsh and the summers are even more intense.

the problem is, when summer does arrive, she stays.

she watches the green come back, the train roll in, and her feet stay planted. she doesn’t even know Orpheus very well, all she’s done is sleep in his small home for a night and hear him sing a... beautiful melody. and yet, here she stands, long gone and staying.

she feels separated from this crowd of people, all of the members of this town are so close, having lived with each for so long. when the train rolls and the door opens, a cheer starts as a few claps and then a women in green appears and it rises to a roar. Eurydice has heard myths about this women: Lady Persephone, the women who used to bring spring to them but now only summer, married to the king of the underworld. she’s well known in all parts of the world, but she only visits certain places personally and it seems that this town is the jackpot. she had no idea when she arrived in the rusty, small village that she’d be heading into the unknown summertime hotspot.

Eurydice watches warily from the back of the crowd, sticking by Orpheus side, but not too close, just close enough so that she can’t lose sight of him. he’s grinning, straining to see over the many heads of the crowd. they watch as Persephone throws her arms around the silver suited man, who she now knows as Mister Hermes, Orpheus’ godfather. they embrace tightly, a familiarity to the both of them, like they’ve known each other their entire lives.

“they’re siblings you know.” Orpheus says, as if sensing her thoughts

“what?” she exclaims. “that’s not possible, she’s a goddess and he’s...”

“he’s not mortal, that’s for sure.” Orpheus shrugs, as if it’s the most casual thing to be given a drink on the house by a god, or to shake his hand and be introduced like you’re the important one. “c’mon, let’s go to the bar, before the crowd gets the idea first.”

“okay.” she agrees instantly, still in awe over what she’s seeing. green, everywhere. the birds suddenly come back from wherever they had migrated for the winter. they sing, and fly about the sky. flowers bloom under her heels and she’s walking across fields of them, the rolling hills around the town are aglow with the sunshine. she can feel Orpheus watching her as they walk, his face turned to hers. she keeps her face forward, lips pursed into thin lines to keep herself from smiling.

they arrive at the bar, and Orpheus gets to work, moving quickly to set everything up before the patrons arrive and the place becomes buzzing with life, distracting and inviting. he’s the bartender tonight, though he’d been forced to promise to grace them with his music later in the night. Eurydice looks forward to it. she’s only heard him a select few times and she yearns to hear it again.

“so this is... a big part of the year?” she asks, sitting atop the bar and watching him work. “this party and Persephone coming back? everyone seems to really be into it.”

“oh yeah,” Orpheus answers. “since we’re the place Lady Persephone spends most of her time, all the regular patrons prepare gifts even though she tells them not to and makes a big party to thank her.”

“so she’s friends with everyone? And Hermes is her brother, so you’ve gotta know her pretty well.”

“I wouldn’t say she raised me, but she... helped raise me, in the summer months.” he reaches up to grab a pitcher from a high cabinet, catching it between two fingers. the muscles under his shoulder blades become more prominent and she averts her eyes right away, unable to divulge in just looking at him. she’d get too caught up in that.

“she must be very kind.”

“she is.” he says, holding out the pitcher. “hold this please?”

“um... sure.” she gently takes it, turning it over in her hands. It’s a lovely glass pitcher, with engravings in the handle, flowers and symbols in a language she doesn’t understand. “what is it anyways?”

“Just her favorite piece that we have, mister Hermes always has be take it when she arrives so she can use it and we can set it out to be admired. A stupid tradition, I know, I’m not sure why we don’t just keep it out year round but- oh, here they come!”

Persephone is striding in front of the group, heading straight towards the two of them. she practically glows, lighting the entire place up even brighter.

“I see you’ve got my favorite piece, I promised my husband I’d bring it back this year!”

“I’ll miss it, Lady Persephone, it’s very beautiful.” Orpheus says, but he’s looking at Eurydice, still seated on top of the bar and holding the pitcher close to her stomach, to make sure she doesn’t drop something so important. she feels warmth lick at her cheeks that she tries to push down, but she can’t help that her pink cheeks easily light up. Persephone sees, her eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them, a knowing look dawning on her face.

“Ah- it is.” Persephone says, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around, miss. a new face?”

“Quite new, actually.” she extends one of her hands to shake Persephone’s. “I’m Eurydice.”

“nice to meet you, Eurydice. Thanks for holding onto my vase, I’ll take it now.” Eurydice gently hands the piece over to the women who unceremoniously places it in her bag without a thought. “Let me get you a drink, you look like you could use it.”

“oh, you don’t have to-”

“it’s summertime!” she yells, loud enough for the other patrons to hear, they all cheer. “indulge in life a little! live minute to minute for once! have a drink and come dance with me!”

she loops her arm through Eurydice’s and tugs her along, Eurydice gets one glance back at Orpheus. He’s laughing, a wonderful sound that she wishes she could record to play again and again. The bubbling noise of his laughter follows her, always twinkling in her ear and reminding her that there are good things in world. right before her, she has the embodiment of summertime cheering her on. And behind her, a boy filled with hope. miracles can happen if someone who’s been broken for this long can find solace in a random town, on a random night, on a day she meant to leave.

***

An hour or two and a couple drinks later, Eurydice has realized that this town is different than any of the others she’s been to before. they sing, they dance, and they welcome a runaway with open arms. she’s different from them, deep down she knows that, but right now, she feels one with summertime.

“c’mon songbird!” persephone shouts over the crowd. “come dance with me! show off those moves.”

“songbird?” eurydice laughs. “why songbird?”

“oh don’t ask me that!” Persephone grins at her. “the feathers in your hair, your skinny little legs, that pretty singsong voice you’ve got.”

“I guess I’ve been asking for it then.” Eurydice laughs. “but I am not- you can’t!”

Persephone drags her forward, into the center of the crowd, effectively parting it with just her ethereal presence. Eurydice’s laughing without even thinking about it, this is what she’s good at, she’s always been a natural mover. she can feel the energy of the crowd, seeping into her bones and warming her entire insides until she’s moving and dancing. this is nothing like how she’s had to dance before, with men watching her every move and with her mind screaming for help. this is freeing. this is what she always hopes for when she moves on to a another town, she hopes for these brief moments where she can breath. she feels the energy seeping from the crowd into her bones.

When she sways her hips, they cheer. when she spins, her dress fans out and she feels like a bird, with tailfeathers for all to see.

she stumbles over to the bar, where Orpheus still stands, smiling and clapping at the crowd of people.

“dance with me!” she shouts of the music and noise.

“what?” his eyes widen to huge saucers.

“you know what I said!” she grabs his wrist, pulling him around the bar.

“are you drunk?” he asks as she tugs him into the crowd.

“no,” she assures. “I’m completely sane.”

she’s always had a high tolerance for alcohol and now is no exception, she’s just high on the experience, on the energy of the room. she takes both of his hands in hers, swinging them back and forth to get a feel for the way they feel in hers. his hands are large, deft from all of his playing, calloused in a way that says he is a kind musician, not a fighter. with scars on his fingertips.

she laughs at how uncomfortable he is. “loosen up! I don’t bite.”

“I don’t know how to do this!” he laughs, his cheeks bright red.

“I’ll show you.” she takes his hand again, harder so that he’s sure that she’s leading. “it’s fun, just... dance. move around, this isn’t a waltz, Orpheus. be silly.”

as if to show him, she shakes her head, fanning her hair like a lion’s mane. he twirls her under his arm in the same movement, leaving her unbalanced at the sudden change.

“yeah! exactly like that!” she shouts, bouncing on the balls of her feet. it goes on like that for awhile, Eurydice jumps and twirls and Orpheus watches her, swaying the music, copying Eurydice’s movements here and there, moving with her. after a couple minutes, he gets up the courage to do something he’s been wanting to do for awhile, ever since he saw her starting to dance.

as the music begins to slow to something less high energy, he places both hands on her hips, gently so that she could pull away when she wanted. but to his surprise, she doesn’t, instead choosing to clasp her hands at the back of his neck. drawing the two of them even closer.

she’s even prettier close up, is what he thinks.

he’s even prettier up close, is what she thinks.

she could look into his eyes forever, she can see now that they are a wonderful hazel color, green and brown and deep.

they’re one of the only people left on the dance floor, everyone else’s lack of a partner and exhaustion got the better of them and they sit at nearby tables. the songbird and the poet can’t seem to hear the rest of the world, they’re too absorbed in their closeness to pay attention to everything else. the band keeps playing and that’s all that matters, is that the music should go on forever and they never stop dancing.

“I-” the band interrupts Orpheus just as he’s about to speak, his tone was soft and she actually wanted to hear what he was going to say but they strike up a fast tune again. they break apart, as people flood the dance floor again.

Eurydice wipes sweat off of her brow, her mind is in turmoil. she never meant for this to happen, she never meant to care for him. what is she doing? why is she still holding his hand? why is she standing so close to him? this is bad, bad, bad. she’s in too deep already and everything is screaming at her to run. all of her past experiences, her instincts that she always listened to, her physical body aches to escape. but whatever it is that’s holding to this poor boy is stronger than all of that.

“let’s go home.” Eurydice suggests quietly.

“okay.”

she allows for him to lead her out of the bar, across a field of daisies and back to his home.

This isn’t going to end well, she knows that. but despite her screaming mind, her body carries herself inside. and she’s long gone before the weather can change.

#hadestown #hadestown fic #orphydice #orphydice fic #orpheusxeuryduce #orpheusxeurydice fic #persephone & eurydice #the brotp #persephone is the frickin best #i love her with all my heart

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bigprincess-energy · 4 years

Text

Got a Light?

On the wall of the bar, the clock ticked into the midnight hours. Orpheus stood behind the counter, nimble fingers dipping into glasses drying and polishing the drinkware before returning them to the shelf they called home. After a bustling evening, the silence left a heavy feeling in the bar. While Orpheus was not afraid of the dark, he couldn’t ignore the eerie sensation lingering in the air, so he hummed a simple tune to occupy the space. Lost in his work, the poet didn’t hear the first set of soft knocks on the bar’s door. The second set of knocks, sharper and more demanding startled the poor boy, his hands desperately fumbling with the glass he was drying, trying to avoid a bigger mess. After making sure the glass was placed safely on the counter, he made his way to the door. Cracking open the door he was surprised to see a young girl, wrapped in a ratty overcoat staring up at him with wild eyes.

Eurydice was not one to ask for favors. Favors meant owing someone back, which made it harder to pack her bags and move to another town when storm clouds rolled in. In spite of herself here she stood, frigid air transforming a want into a need, desperation taking over. Through the window she could see a light inside of the bar was still on, though the room was desolate and barren, chairs no longer filled with patrons but stacked on top of tables. Maybe someone was still inside, someone who would lend her a match. She would pay them back, someday. Clutching her candle in her right hand, she raised her left before pausing. Her hand was trembling. Swallowing her pride, Eurydice gently knocked on the door, praying someone would be inside and hear.

No one is going to hear that, a voice in the back of her head whispered. While she wanted to shoo it away, accept defeat and turn away, the voice persisted. Knock like you mean it. Trying once more, her knuckles made contact with the wood grain of the door, the sound echoing off out into the empty street. From inside she could hear a slight commotion and a muffled, melodic voice. Someone was inside, someone had heard her. After a moment, the door creaked open. The light of the inside was harsh against the darkness of the night, forcing Eurydice to squint. When her eyes finally adjusted, a young boy peered out at her, confusion painted over his face.

“Did you forget something?” Orpheus asked softly, trying to make sense of the situation in front of him. Normally Eurydice praised herself as being articulate, one might even say poised, but in this moment her tongue felt as though it was tied in knots, heavy and foreign in her mouth.

“Got a light?” she blurted out, pushing the candle she was holding outward towards him. A blush rising to her cheeks as she realized how demanding she probably sounded. Without a moment of hesitation, the poet patted himself down, front and back pockets of his trousers and apron, frowning with disappointment as he came up empty-handed.

“N-No. Well not on me,” he stuttered, staring at Eurydice. Her nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold, the candle she held out to him shaking.

“You’re shivering,” Orpheus stated, unable to hide the concern in his voice. Eurydice raised an eyebrow as if to say, oh thank you for informing me, I hadn’t noticed. Shifting back, Orpheus held open the door. “Why don’t you come in, I’ll find a matchbox.”

Pride instantly swelled within her, her mind frantically hunting for any reason to turn him down, to walk away. She had already disrupted the evening of this kind, hazel-eyed boy, turning away now would be rude. “Thank you,” Eurydice said meekly, slipping past him and into the warmth of the bar.

Orpheus headed over to the bar, ducking down to file through the different drawers and cupboards. Mister Hermes had to have a matchbox somewhere in this establishment. Eurydice stayed by the door, perching like a bird on the windowsill, watching the moon glisten in the sky above.

Eurydice knew she had never stepped into this bar before but something about the atmosphere felt familiar, homey even. As she sat her senses recorded the space around her, trying to take it all in. She trailed her fingertips along the worn wood grain, softened with time and patrons of the bar shuffling through. The faint smell of stale smoke and liquor, natural to any bar filled the air but there was something else too, something old like leatherbound books and mothballs. It was easy to imagine the place full of people, jovial as they danced and drank. Behind the bar, she watched his brunette head bob up and down in time to the sound of drawers opening and closing, cutting through the silence of the night.

It took some searching but finally, Orpheus found a matchbox tucked behind a collection of receipts dating back to before he could remember. Mister Hermes was a stickler for records, always tracking the expenses of the bar with great care. Excited to share his discovery with the girl, he bounced up on the balls of his feet, a beaming smile plastered on his face. However, upon seeing her again, he stopped, smile fading into an expression of adoration. She looked stunning bathed in the moonlight. No longer were her features harsh and wild, but soft and fearful. Her hair gleamed like starlight, he had never seen anything like her before. Orpheus wanted to paint her into his memory, to recall every detail of this strange, shivering, somewhat demanding girl and all of her beauty.

“Has anyone told you it is rude to stare?”

Her voice cut through the air, breaking Orpheus out of his fantasy. “Y-Your hair… in the moonlight,” he stuttered, embarrassment evident. He looked down, fidgeting nervously with the matchbox.

“The moonlight?” Eurydice asked scoffing slightly as she hopped down from her perch, sauntering over to the bar. At least he was honest, she thought to herself as she set the candle down on the countertop and leaned forward on her elbows. “Never mind, will you light my candle?”

Looking up from the wick of the candle she found the boy staring at her once again, not in the same gawking manner she was used to from most men, but like she was a puzzle he was trying to piece together.

“What? Can I help you?” Eurydice laughed, her eyebrows raised.

“N-No! No, it is nothing!” Orpheus blurted out, trying to cover for himself.

“You don’t look at someone like that when it’s nothing,” she shot back, not letting him off that easy.

“Your smile, it reminded me of someone,” Orpheus sighed, his words no louder than a whisper.

“I always remind people of someone, who was she?” Eurydice asked, her tone softening.

“She died, her name was Calliope.”

The air in the room was tense, Orpheus’ sadness undeniable. Already the situation made Eurydice uncomfortable, this new addition was not helping. “Sorry about your friend,” Eurydice replied, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Mother, actually. Here, let me light the candle,” the poet mumbled back, striking the match and connecting the flame to the wick.

Desperation, to be anywhere but here with this sad boy and his sad eyes took over Eurydice as she reached out for the candle haphazardly. Her reckless behavior caused the tip of her middle finger to make contact with the hot wax collecting beneath the flame.

“Ow!” Eurydice exclaimed, pulling her hand back into herself. Of course, her carelessness had caused the candle to be blown out.

“Oh the wax, oh goodness are you okay?” Orpheus asked, eyes wide with concern.

“It is just a little wax,” she sighed, picking the wax cap off her fingers. “I’ve had it dripped on me before. That time, I liked it,” she smirked wickedly, winking as his cheeks turned pink. Not giving him the chance to respond to her provocative comment Eurydice reached out and plucked the matchbox from Orpheus’ hand.

There was only contact for a split second but the sensation of her heart skipping a beat as her skin met his was undeniable. Stupid boy, she thought to herself as her fingers fumbled with a matchstick. Stupid boy and his stupid soft smile, stupid sad dead mom, stupid sweet eyes. Stupid, stupid girl. You never should have knocked on this door. Just light the candle and go.

Her frustration with the situation manifested as matches breaking and burning out under her forceful grip as she struck them against the box. Orpheus watched quietly, a little in awe of what was playing out in front of him. Normally he would have never extended his hand out to her, gently coaxing the matchbox from her grip, but then again any chance of this interaction being normal went out and into the night the moment he opened the door. Wordlessly, he struck the match against the box, a flame ignited.

Eurydice’s eyes followed the flame, flickering, and dancing as it lit the wick of her candle. There was a brief silence, the whole world still as they watched the candle burn for a moment. While Orpheus’ focus was on the flame Eurydice glanced up at his face, watching as the light of the candle changed how the night appeared on his features.

Pointed nose, high cheekbones, even his mouth, always slightly turned up into a smile were angular, edges illuminated by the glow. This sharpness about his face was a great juxtaposition to his personality which she could only describe as simply kind. He had opened the door for her, went out of his way to help her. Why hadn’t he politely turned her away, shut the door and clicked the lock into place?

Her stare lingered on his lips for a moment, soft and pink. Giving into fantasy for a moment she let herself imagine what they would feel like against her own. Would they be as warm and welcoming as the rest of him? She would never find out, boys like him didn’t kiss girls like her. Feral street girls who beg for matches don’t get kissed, only looks of pity from pretty boys like him.

As her eyes continued upwards Eurydice was caught off guard as his hazel eyes connected with hers. She flinched back, blinking frantically and looking anywhere but back up at him. Shakily her hand blindly padded around the bartop until she felt her fingertips connect with the cool glass of the candle.

“I, uh, I… Thank you,” She managed to say, fumbling over her words as her grip on the candle tightened. Eurydice took a step back, gently bumping into a bar stool as she made her way towards the door. “T-Thank you, for the light.”

Orpheus stayed where he stood, a little bewildered and amused by her sudden bashful nature. He wanted to say something, anything to reassure her, but his tongue lay heavy in his mouth. All he could do was watch as she turned to leave, watch as her hand reached towards the door and the strange, beautiful girl with the candle disappeared into the darkness.

Just as her hand connected with the heavy metal door handle, Eurydice instinctively reached back to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her mind was on one track: get out, get out, get out, but her subconscious informed her fingertips that the white feather she always clipped into her hair was absent.

“Shit!” She mumbled to herself, turning on her heels to face the interior of the bar once more.

Orpheus was instantly at her side, worry taking over his face. “What happened? Did you burn yourself?” He asked, looking at the candle which was burnt out again. Moving from the candle to her he noticed a fiery determination behind her eyes.

“My feather. I must have dropped it. I had it when I came in, I know I did,” She spoke, words punctuated with irritation. Within an instant she had handed the candle off to Orpheus, shrugged off her backpack and coat, leaving them in a heap on the floor and dropped to the floor herself. Orpheus placed the candle safely on the counter before turning back to look at her crawling on her hands and knees.

“Listen, I know I have a great ass, but can you please get down here and help me?” Eurydice asked, her head popping up and peering at him from over her shoulder.

“I-I wasn’t, I mean you do have a nice-- I mean… I,” Orpheus stuttered, face flushing a deep scarlet as he met her on the ground. Clearing his throat he asked her what they were looking for, trying to be as helpful as he could.

Rolling her eyes at his blunder Eurydice returned her attention to the floorboards. “A white feather, it will probably have a hairpin attached to it.”

Orpheus nodded, acknowledging he understood her instructions. At first, they searched in silence, but Orpheus couldn’t stop the questions from bubbling over from his mind and spilling out of his mouth. “Why were you out in the night, looking for someone to light your candle?”

Had anyone else asked Eurydice something so personal, tried to pry their way into her life and backstory with a crowbar in the form of a question she would have turned and walked away. But there was something about this boy, with all of his kindness towards her that made her feel riddled with guilt, an emotion she wasn’t familiar with, at the idea of brushing him off. She knew the moment she began to reply, his goodness for the pure sake of being good would transform into one made out of sorrow and sympathy for her.

“I’m new to the area. I don’t have anywhere to go,” Eurydice explained, hardening her voice slightly. She wasn’t telling her story for pity points, she didn’t need anyone’s help, well with the exception of the need for matches. “It gets cold and dark, my matchbook got damp. I had no other option.”

Orpheus stilled in his movements, stopping to listen and absorb each of her words. “Why are you all alone? You can’t be older than me, don’t you have a home?”

Eurydice scoffed, shaking her head as she pulled back to look at him while sitting on her heels. “Some people just don’t have a home,” she offered as an explanation, not diving any deeper into the subject. “And I’m 21, I’m old enough. I’ve made it this far, despite it all. People, seasons - the harshness of the world hasn’t stopped me yet.”

Orpheus nodded softly in response, eyes flicking from hers to the ground. “Oh now the cat’s got your tongue? After all those questions, you hear a tragic backstory and now you’re silent? What were you expecting?” She remarked, a laugh following her words.

As Eurydice spoke, she crawled towards him, swaying her hips from side to side with exaggeration until their faces were only inches apart. Eyes wide and lips pouty, seduction radiated from her as she reached up and ran a finger from his cheek down to his jaw, tilting his head up so his eyes met hers. “I just wander around in the night knocking on the doors of unsuspecting naive boys asking them to light a poor girl’s candle so I can seduce them. What else is a girl supposed to do for fun?”

Not missing a beat her voice deadpanned as she pulled away from him, “If I had a home, all complete with a mommy and daddy, hell even maybe a little brother or sister, I wouldn’t be here. I do what I need to survive.”

Between the heat from her fingertip still lingering on his cheek and the picture she painted for him out of her words, Orpheus was stunned, and a little breathless. His whole life he had been praised for his way with words, the poetry that poured from his lips and pen, but in this moment he could only stare in silence. There were no words that could be said now, his heart filled with a longing, an aching to help her in whatever way he could. Surely she needed more than matches.

Orpheus drummed his fingers against the floor, desperately attempting to string a sentence together, to say the right thing. I’m sorry, I understand, I want to help - none of the sentiments of sympathy and empathy running through his might felt capable of expressing the deep sorrow he felt in his heart, the overwhelming urge that overcame him to prevent her from having to spend another night out in the cold. He hardly knew this girl, everything about her was cloaked in mystery, he didn’t even know her name.

As his thoughts continued to spiral his finger’s movements increased in pace, their once steady rhythm now erratic. Over and over his fingertips made contact with the cold floor, that was until they didn’t. His ring finger connected with something soft, the rapping noise of his finger connecting with wood muffled. Orpheus’ gaze shifted from his lap over his side, confirming the unfamiliar object he was now holding, was indeed what he thought it was. A soft white feather, delicate and fragile, everything she appeared not to be, rested in the palm of his hand.

“I-I think this is yours,” Orpheus finally said, breaking the still silence in the bar as he reached out his open hand to Eurydice. It took Eurydice a moment to process what he was handing her, but the moment she recognized her feather, relief overcame her.

“Thank you,” Eurydice murmured, her voice no longer dripping with lust but rather there was an element of apologetic demureness to her tone. Tentatively, almost as though she was unsure if what he was holding was truly real, she extended her hand out to him. In the act of curling her fingers protectively over the sacred item, Eurydice’s touch also grazed over his skin, feeling the roughness of well-developed calluses in the fleeting moments as she pulled back.

For a boy of such tenderness; kind eyes, gentle tone, warm smile, the harshness of his hands contradicted everything Eurydice had assumed about him. Attempting to shake the thought of learning more about this boy and the story behind his hands, Eurydice effortlessly clipped the feather back into her hair. What was the point of learning more about him, of yearning for him telling her stories of how his hands came to be in the condition that she traced the lines of and kissed the palms of when as soon as the bar door shut behind her he would forget about her.

Orpheus watched as she pinned the feather back into place, his hand still outstretched in his lap. He was still at a loss of what else to say before he knew what was happening words were spilling from his mouth. “My name is Orpheus.”

His words caught Eurydice by surprise, why was he introducing himself to her? Why was he putting a name to his face, a name that would circle around her mind for hours as she lay awake tonight, and for every night after?

Eurydice never told anyone her name, she was always “girl”, “miss” if she was lucky, or some nights “sugar” or “baby” if it came to it. Her name felt foreign on her tongue, unfamiliar in her own voice to her own ears. He said his own name with such confidence, he was Orpheus, and he knew exactly who he was. But who was she?

“I-I’m Eurydice,” she stuttered, her own name leaving her tongue-tied. He probably thought she was lying about her name, and she couldn’t blame him for having such a thought. After all, who stumbles over their own name? Those who come in the dark begging for matches rarely tell the truth, after all, who would believe her if she did?

“Eurydice,” Orpheus repeated back to her, a small smile growing on his lips. “Your name, it sounds like a melody. Eurydice, Eurydice, Eurydice.”

Unable to allow herself to revel in the beauty hearing him pronounce each syllable of her name, Eurydice just rolled her eyes at his comment. “Who talks like that? My name is a melody? What are you, some kind of poet?”

Orpheus’ eyes lit up at her response, nodding eagerly. “I also play the lyre,” he mused, pointing towards the stage at the opposite end of the room.

“Oh, a liar and a player too? I wouldn’t have pegged you for one, but I suppose all men are the same. You meet one, you’ve met them all,” She quipped, pushing herself up from the ground and stepping towards the heap of her things.

“Wait, no,” Orpheus said, scrambling to get up along with her. “I, I’m not like that, I promise.”

“Come again?” Eurydice paused her coat half on. “You already admitted you fancy pretty words and are a liar, why should I trust your word, player?”

“D-Don’t go!” Orpheus’ voice wavered. Quickly the boy cleared his throat, trying his hardest to come across as confident.

“Come home,” He paused, a blush blooming on his cheeks, “with me.

There he stood, his face open and honest, his hand outstretched to her. In the darkness of the night, he shone like the sun. Eurydice couldn’t help but laugh, throwing her head back as the sound reverberated around the empty room. Shrugging on the other shoulder of her coat she stepped towards him, her backpack still on the ground. “You just told me you’re not like other men, that you’re not a player, and here you are asking me to come home with you?”

Her laughter filled the room with a light Orpheus had never known. It didn’t matter to him that she was laughing at him, he wanted to hear her laugh forever, to capture the sound and it’s beauty, to listen to it over and over again. “I-I don’t have a good answer to that,” Orpheus tried to laugh with her, the pink tint on his features how a vibrant scarlet.

Eurydice wanted to say yes, to reach out and take his hands, but she had seen how the world was, how the promises of men always came with a cost. She had always managed on her own, survived for better or for worst. Isolation was key to living to see another day, but some part of her longed to throw every lesson she had ever learned away to know the feeling of holding him. Could he truly be kind, without expectations or strings attached? Could he be different?

Swallowing hard, Eurydice’s eyes flickered between his hand to the door which was just in her peripheral vision. What would it be like, to feel the warmth of the sun against her, even in the darkest hours of the night? For the first time, since she couldn’t recall when, Eurydice felt unsure of herself. She knew fear, knew panic, but this was different. She was scared of having already fallen, in spite of herself, and everything she thought she knew.

Nervously, Eurydice went to step even closer towards Orpheus, her hand just slightly reaching towards his. Before she was able to gracefully give herself over to him, she tripped over her backpack, left forgotten on the bar floor. Stumbling, she crashed directly into Orpheus, palms pressed against his chest. His arms instantly wrapped securely around her back, holding Eurydice up. For only a split second, both felt as though they were holding the world in their arms.

“Is that a yes?” Orpheus chuckled, the sound vibrating out from his chest and into her hands. Eurydice desperately tried to collect herself, pulling her hands back and trying to stand up straight. The moment Orpheus’ hands were no longer on the small of her back she longed for the sensation. Even after such a blunder he still stood in front of her, arms, heart, and home still open to her.

“You’re sure?” Eurydice asked softly, bending down to pick up her bag. Anxiously she ran her fingers over the handle, the cool damp fabric a reminder of what fate would await her should she back into the night.

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” Orpheus responded, reaching his hand out for her once again. “Eurydice, come home with me.”

Without a word Eurydice placed her hand into his, a tiny smile gracing her lips. “Take me home with you.”

Orpheus lead her across the room to a small staircase leading up to a second story. As he mounted the first step, he looked behind him at Eurydice, who met his gaze with a simple nod of affirmation. With his free hand, Orpheus flipped the final light switch, submerging the bar into darkness. On the counter her candle remained, unlit and forgotten about for the evening.

#oli.writes #wow look who actually wrote something #wild #this is on AO3 as well

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sophieakatz · 4 years

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Thursday Thoughts: Writing Advice (Part 1 of 3)

I recently stumbled across this writer ask meme about pieces of writing advice, and I was having so much fun thinking about it that I decided to just respond to them all!

1. Nothing is perfect

This is one of those truths that can be used for good or ill.

It’s easy to see the flaws in your own work, to hold your own writing to a higher standard than literally anyone else would. It’s good to say “nothing is perfect” to assure yourself that your work is good enough.

But if someone has called you out for using racist stereotypes in your writing, and your response is, “Well, nothing is perfect! So leave me alone and don’t tell me to fix it!” That’s bad!

Allow me to misquote the Talmud and tell you to keep two pieces of paper in your pocket, and take each out as you need it. The first says “nothing is perfect.” The second says “I can, and should, always do better.”

2. Don’t use adverbs

Adverbs are tools. Understand their purpose and use them wisely.

To prove my own point, I could not have written that second sentence without an adverb – “wisely.” The purpose of an adverb is to modify a verb or an adjective. It wouldn’t be enough for me to just say, “use them.” How should one use them? Wisely!

The best advice I ever got about adverbs is that they should be used when they are necessary for clarity.

If I write, “Sophie smiled happily,” that is not a necessary adverb. It is already obvious from the fact that I am smiling that I am happy. Using “happily” is redundant and uninteresting.

If I write, “Sophie smiled sadly,” on the other hand – that is necessary. The adverb changes the picture that you make in your head, and the sentence is more interesting as a result.

3. Write what you know

I get why people use this as advice. I’m much more a fan of saying “know what you write.”

Feel free to go beyond your own individual experience when you write – but for god’s sake, do your research. Expand what you know, so that you can write.

4. Avoid repetition

Like adverbs, repetition is a tool. Use it wisely.

What can repetition accomplish?

Emphasis – highlighting something as important.

Memorability – helping the audience remember.

Familiarity – we tend to like and believe what we hear over and over.

Musicians understand this. Listen to the Hadestown soundtrack and keep a tally of how many times Orpheus is referred to as “a poor boy” or Eurydice as “a hungry young girl.” Listen to the Hamilton soundtrack and count how many times Burr opens a song with “How does a –?” Think back on all the times you heard the new hit song of the year and you shrugged it off, but a couple weeks later, after you heard it on every radio station, on everyone’s Spotify playlist, in every YouTube ad – it “grew on you.”

The trick is using repetition just enough that it provides a useful structure, but not so much that it’s noticed to the point of instilling boredom.

5. Write every day

Sure, why not. If you write just ten words every day for a year, you’ll have nearly 4,000 words at the end of it – a short story. If you write a hundred words every day for a year, that’s almost 40,000 words – a decent novella. Writing every day is a good way to end up with something written.

But don’t beat yourself up if you don’t or can’t write every day. Writing takes effort. You have other things to devote energy to – work, school, groceries, cleaning, socializing, confronting your own mortality, finding out how season seven of Clone Wars ends.

I encourage you to notice all the things that you do every day which isn’t officially “writing” but is still a part of being a writer.

Now, this is something I struggle with. I go months without touching my novel, and it’s easy for me to dismiss that time as “not writing.”

But I send emails. And I write essays for school. And I jot down thoughts and dreams in my journal. And I read – you have to read in order to write. And I spend time on my walks and in the shower imagining dialogue and figuring out character paths and themes for my novel, all things that will help me when I do get back to writing it. And I have all the smaller projects I gave myself – this weekly blog post, my weekly poem or quote, my fanfiction.

If you’re a writer, then you’re a writer, whether or not you write every day.

6. Good writers borrow from other writers, great writers steal from them outright

I’m not sure what the distinction is here between “borrowing” and “stealing.”

Stealing is definitely a part of writing, though. I’ve written about this before – check out my old article on stealing bicycles as a writing metaphor.

7. Just write

Oh I am a BIG fan of this one. Even if you don’t know what to write, just write. So many pages of my journal open with the line “I have no idea what to write about.” Eventually, as you ramble, you start writing about what you wished you would be writing about. And then you find yourself actually writing.

8. There’s nothing new under the sun

Sure, but the art is in making something familiar feel new. I wrote about this a couple weeks ago in this Thursday Thoughts.

9. Read

Yes, yes, yes! Read to find out what’s out there. Read to learn the conventions of your genre. Read to ignite your love of the craft. Read to discover your people. Read to add tools to your toolbox (or pieces to your bicycle). Read to find agents and editors and publishing imprints. Read to learn what stories are not being told. Read to be a writer.

10. Don’t think!

Thinking is a tool. Use it wisely.

The best parts of my writing I’ve discovered not while writing, but while thinking about writing.

Just don’t think yourself out of writing altogether.

11. Write what you love

You’ll certainly be happier writing something you love than something you don’t love. You won’t love everything you write, though. It can still be good and valuable even if you don’t love it. But if you love it, or if you can remember why you loved it, you will come back and finish it.

12. Never use a long word where a short one will do

Forget the length of the word. Is it the right word?

To paraphrase Mark Twain and Josh Billings, the difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.

If you do find yourself needing to choose between two words with identical definitions, and the only difference between them is their length, then think about the effect of the word on your reader. Read the sentence aloud a few times with either option. Different words have different connotations; they evoke different moods. It may in the end just come down to which word feels right for this moment.

13. Less is more

No, it definitionally is not. See my above thoughts about adverbs, repetition, and long words vs short words.

All words are tools. All words have a purpose. Is it the right word for this moment?

14. Never use the passive when you can use the active voice

Again, active voice and passive voice are tools! They have purposes!

The simplest way to differentiate between the two is that active voice is “the girl threw the ball” and passive voice is “the ball was thrown by the girl.” Both make sense. Both describe the same action. But one places the emphasis on the girl – the subject – while the other places the emphasis on the ball – the object.

Are you trying to create a sense of immediacy, to immerse the reader in the moment? Use active voice. He did this! She did that! Bam! Pow! It’s happening right now, and we know exactly who did it!

Are you trying to create distance between the reader and something in the moment? Use passive voice. He was being followed – by who, we don’t know. Passive voice adds a touch of mystery or disassociation.

15. Show don’t tell

How do you show? How do you tell? There are engaging ways to do both, and boring ways to do both. Do what the moment needs.

In prose, I recommend setting up with showing and then hitting your reader with a tell. Say your protagonist is standing alone in a room. Then, a woman enters. Show the protagonist’s reaction to that woman – their heart pounds, they tear up, they grab a chair for support…

And then, in the narration: “Her mother had been dead for five years, and yet there she stood.” Bam! A well-placed tell which contextualizes the reaction.

Plays and screenplays come down on different sides of the “show vs tell” debate. Film usually does more “showing,” while a stage play usually has more “telling.”

This comes from writers leaning into the limitations of the mediums. The first few lines of any scene in a Shakespeare play lets you know the location and time of day, because they didn’t have the scenic or lighting elements available to show it.

While a film can cut to different places and times quickly and easily, many plays are set in just one or two locations to remove the need for frequent scene changes. A play will capitalize on the characters’ reactions to and conversations about unseen offstage events, while a film will show these offstage events.

These are not hard and fast rules, of course. Plenty of films stay in one location, and plenty of plays jump around from place to place. It’s worth noting that standard formatting for plays and screenplays highlight this typical difference. In a stage play script, the dialogue (what we’re told) is left-aligned while the action (what we’re shown) is indented. In a screenplay, the action is left-aligned and the dialogue is indented.

Neither showing nor telling is superior. They are both tools. Use them wisely.

To be continued...

#writing #advice #writing advice #writblr #writers #writers of tumblr #show don't tell #thursday thoughts #listicles #shakespeare #active voice #passive voice #word choice #just write #write what you know #adverbs #write what you love

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fourteenacross · 5 years

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hadestown - 5/26/19, 3pm

We also saw Hadestown while we were in the city for Octet!

Sooooo, as I mentioned before, I saw Hadestown off-broadway at the NYTW in the spring of 2016. I had previously been familiar with the album, as Orpheus and Eurydice is a particular favorite myth of mine. I can't 100% remember, but I think that someone told me to listen to it when I was writing my X-Men Orpheus&Eurydice story? Either way, when we found out it was going to be playing while @pearlo was in town, we got tickets, along with @littledust and @anachronistique. And it was great!! I truly enjoyed it! I've been listening to bits of it regularly ever since! (Ish. There was like, a good eight months where all I listened to was podcasts, books, and Ghost Quartet.)

I'm saying all of this because this review is...pretty critical? And I want to make it clear that I do love this music and enjoy this show and I had a good time and I would recommend it, probably! But I wasn't as in love with the production as I was with the NYTW production for a few reasons that I'll get into below the cut.

So, usually I go song by song, but I feel like the things I have to say are largely broader than that, so I guess I'm just going to jump right in.

The cast is largely excellent. Patrick Page and Amber Gray could murder me and I'd be okay with it, tee bee aitch. Patrick Page does a thing with his face that just makes me cry, I don't know how he does it. Sorcery, probably. And Amber Gray is an actual goddess, for reals, how is she even real?

I loved Eva Noblezada's take on Eurydice! She had this sharp, broken energy to her that was truly incredible. She was like...spunky. And it was excellent.

I loved Andre De Shields' energy. His movement was unreal. His voice didn't work for me in places, but that could have just been the sound design of the show--there were bits where it was really hard for me to make out what he was singing.

Jewelle Blackman is AMAZING, as are Yvette Gonzales-Nacer and Kay Trinidad. They've really turned the Fates into a more menacing presence, and while I ADORE Lulu Fall and Shaina Taub and missed seeing them, I didn't MISS them, if that makes sense.

Reeve Carney. Oh. My dude. You are certainly a white boy with a guitar.

And here's where it really starts to break down for me. I have two major issues with the show, and the first one is that I find absolutely nothing exceptional in Reeve Carney. I cannot understand why this cagey, feisty girl who's been hurt before would throw everything in with this weirdo, IMMEDIATELY POSSESSIVE kid who's singing her a song? Lisa framed it as, "She's nineteen and she's literally never met a nice man before," and I can kind of see it through that lens, but I also don't think that's the lens that the show wants me to see it through. It wants me to frame this as a beautiful, epic love story, but I don't buy that she's in love with him. Maybe I'm too gay for it or maybe it's the writing or maybe it's the acting, but it doesn't connect for me, and once that connection is broken, the whole show sort of falls apart.

I don't recall having this problem with the NYTW version. It could be that since that version started with the two of them already in love, it was easier to wave it off as some off-stage wooing that already happened and accept that there were reasons they were together. It could have been that Nabiyah Be's Eurydice was a little softer and more naive. It could have been that I empathized more with Damon Daunno's Orpheus. Whatever it was, I found it much easier to accept that they were in love, which made Orpheus' neglect feel so much more painful and Eurydice's choice so much more desperate and all that followed so much more heartbreaking.

Basically, most of the stakes stop being so high if you don't buy into their love, which I just...did not.

My other major issue, to get that out of the way up front, is the pacing is still not great. Although I didn't write up notes after Hadestown in 2016 (I saw it literally hours before I saw Hamilton for the first time), I remember talking with my friends about how the beginning is very tight and the middle-to-end are kind of a mess and bloated. I didn't follow the show closely while it was out of town and I guess I kind of hoped that it would have been tightened up more, but no. It was not. It still feels very over-full and there's now this number where Orpheus gets beat up by the Hadestown workers that's like...comically over the top. In my heart, I really feel like this could be a one act show, or at least a two act show with much shorter acts. "Wait for Me" is SUCH a good act one finale, but you lose some of that energy moving to "Why We Build the Wall," which I think would work just as well as an opening to act two, as much as I love the way "Our Lady of the Underground" is staged.

Anyway, all that being said, I still enjoyed it and still cried, so what do I know, right?

Road to Hell: I liked this as an introduction overall, and loved the little intros for all of the characters. It really sold me on Andre De Shields, too, esp because I loved Chris Sullivan so much.

Any Way the Wind Blows: This is such a great song and god, I loved the way Eva played Eurydice. The candle thing was a nice touch.

Come Home With Me: I can't believe I'm supposed to care about this kid.

Wedding Song: I liked the new twist on this, although I think I like it better a more earnest song. Still, Eurydice using this to sort of mock Orpheus about being a broke artist was a cool twist and Eva sold it.

Epic I: This was fine. It's explained either here or earlier that spring and fall have more-or-less disappeared because Persephone is being forced to spend more time in the Underworld and is being brought back down sooner. The implication, as we get further along in the story, is that Hades doesn't know how to connect to Persephone any longer and is keeping her around more both a) as a show of power and b) because he doesn't know how else to express himself to her.

Livin’ It Up On Top: I would absolutely kill for Amber Gray. This version of Persephone is drinking to cope. A LOT. It paints this sad, lovely picture of what she's been feeling.

All I've Ever Known: I just do not buy that they're in love, sorry.

Way Down Hadestown: The staging and set of the show are fantastic. There's a panel at the center of the stage that rises and lowers as needed and the visual of Persephone and Hades, stony faced both, sinking back into the underworld is perfect.

A Gathering Storm: The through line about the weather mostly works for me, but honestly, I was so distracted by how annoyed I was at Orpheus during this number that I was pulled out of the moment.

Hey, Little Songbird: Skipping ahead a little, Patrick Page is perfect, in case you were wondering. I tweeted something like that after NYTW and he clearly found it in a vanity search and replied very humbly, which I find quite charming. But yes, I adore him.

When the Chips are Down: This is one of my favorite songs in this show and the Fates kill it here. Their slightly more sinister characterization makes it more haunting than taunting and I'm into it.

Wait For Me: The lighting in this number deserves a Tony all on its own. Jesus Christ, that's art. The set is also incredible. As Orpheus moves down into Hadestown, the stage splits apart from an intimate cafe into a larger, more industrial space. Very cool.

Why We Build the Wall: Again, Patrick Page is excellent. This works really well to pull Eurydice in, as well. We see her slowly starting to accept this way of thinking as she listens to Hades. And, of course, Persephone's act-ending line is perfect.

Our Lady of the Underground: Amber! Gray! Is! Wonderful!

Flowers: My actual favorite song in this show. Eva nails it, it was beautiful and poignant, on the heels of her slow realization that this isn't what Hades said it would be at all, that she's forgetting her name and who she is as she slowly is sucked into the capitalist machine.

Then in here is some more Orpheus stuff, including the ridiculous fight scene where he’s beat up by the workers?

There’s also this subplot that the workers think that if Orpheus can get out, they can get out too, so he’s leading like, a whole little revolution? Except that isn’t really expanded on at all and kind of falls away. It also, imo, takes these weird steps towards turning it into a different story than it is. If you’re pushing that it’s a love story, a love song, so much and then at the last minute paste on this “also a revolution is happening????” and then drop it for the emotional climax like...what are you doing, why is this here?

But also, there's this bit where Hades says "Have a drink!" to Persephone and she says something like "I'm done with that" and it is a real (pun not intended) sobering moment for the two of them. Ugh, I just really love them and the complexities of their relationship.

Epic: Patrick Page's face is very good at acting. The rest of him, too, I guess, but even from the cheap seats, I got SO worked up over Hades' quiet slip into acknowledging the despair that he feels over his inability to connect with Persephone. The guy on Naomi's other side was full on crying, even more than me. It was honestly glorious.

(I have a lot of thoughts about Hades and Persephone, and, to be honest, they’re my main draw to this show. I’m fascinated by their relationship here and the way it’s broken in a way they’re not quite sure how to fix. Against all odds, I’m rooting for them, I want it to work for them, if only because they both seem to remember this time when they were in love and nothing else mattered. I think that’s part of why the parts of this incarnation that don’t work for me...don’t work for me. I’m already more invested in Hades and Persephone than Orpheus and Eurydice, so when I have to work ten times harder to feel for their relationship, it just doesn’t seem worth it, especially next to one that I’m sucked into almost against my will.)

Doubt Comes In: I will give Reeve Carney this--despite knowing how this story was going to end, I still felt the creeping tension and dread in those moments leading up to him turning around. A woman behind Lisa said, "Oh no!" out loud, even.

Road to Hell (Reprise): And this is the other place where I cried, of all things! This number ends up being about how we know that this is a sad story and we know how it ends, but we keep telling it anyway, because that's what stories are there to do. I got weepy, who knows!

I Raise My Cup: So they moved this to after the curtain call??? I....don't know if it works like that, tee bee aitch.

ANYWAY, those are my thoughts, mostly I'm tired of typing this and the deadlines that I started writing it to avoid are looming, SO. I enjoyed it a lot, despite the things that bothered me, but I would probably not spend $150 to see it again. Rush tickets, maybe.

#show notes #tag two #tag three #tag four #tag five #hadestown

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janiedean · 5 years

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Ok I need to know your thoughts about this Green Book mess

... pray for me anon XD

anyway, never mind that my general thought is that I’m really sad the mule didn’t compete this round because then it’d have deserved all the awards hands down........

tldr: the fact that people are outraged is the proof that tumblr at large can’t recognize classism when it hits you in the face.

in longer words: 95% of the hot takes I’m reading are Patently False And It Shoes People Haven’t Seen That Movie.

in much longer words: counting that I haven’t seen all the nominees but I did see both blakkk/lansman (which from now will be BKKK) and blackpanther and green book (and borap but that one wasn’t gonna win best movie anyway so) and I guess that is where the crux is, so, in order.

bkkk was obviously the best movie of the lot quality speaking. in an ideal world, it would have one. except that bkkk is a movie that’s heavily political and if y’all think that the oscars would give a prize to the heavily political movie that directly criticizes the administration in power then y’all missed the part where that’s not what happens at the oscars. last time it happened it was 1978 and the deer hunter won and I still don’t know wtf was the jury’s state of grace at that point, but in 1980 they had apocalypse now in the list and kramer vs kramer won. like. guys. if you have APOCALYPSE NOW on the list and anything else wins in the major categories then you’re a joke. and tbh it surprises me that spike l/ee is still hoping he might snag a major win that’s not for screenplay with these parameters - they’re not gonna go there. hasn’t happened since ‘78. come on;

bp was not a best movie flick. like, guys: it’s not even the best mcu film around as far as I’m concerned and while it most likely deserved the technical awards..... seriously? like. if neither GB nor bkkk won then any other movie on the list had better shots than bp. I can’t even think people seriously assume it was best movie material or ON PAR WITH BKKK as in, ‘if bkkk doesn’t win then THAT ONE should have won’. like, no;

now: green book was a *safe* pick in the sense that it wasn’t as heavy-handed as bkkk when it came to be political so it was the perfect choice if they wanted to go like ‘oh hey see we gave the award to the movie about racism without giving it to the one raising the middle finger to donald trump’, but differently from moon/light (which according to me was the most political political win of the last ten years like guys sorry that movie was nowhere near as good as people said back then and I found it incredibly overrated, and before you tell me that it’s because I didn’t understand it: exactly the point. the wire is one of my fave shows ever and it tacked all the things moon/light tried to except that it did it vastly better and I actually got it for how well it was written, moon/light completely failed in that sense and I’m glad if it was a good movie for the people it was directed to but it didn’t engage beyond that target imvho but never mind that) it actually tackled very well a series of issues I never see discussed in US cinema when it comes to *racism-themed* movies and I thought it was a really well-made movie that nailed a lot of things especially when it came to how classism and racism interject themselves in the discourse and how you don’t get out of discarding one of them so easily.

specifically, with SPOILERS FROM THE MOVIE under the cut SO GO AHEAD AT WILL OR NOT:

now: all the posts ‘this is the usual movie about the white guy who gets the black friend’ already are obviously from people who haven’t seen it because they missed the basic point, as in: that the white guy is poor and uneducated and isn’t *racist* because he’s a terrible person, he is out of ignorance and not knowing any better BUT at the same time he’s not so narrow-minded that he doesn’t have fairly forward opinions on other -isms (see THAT REVEAL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE after which he goes like ‘I’ve been a bouncer in most of new york’s night clubs do you think I mind that thing’ which is a thing the audience wouldn’t have thought since italian-american men from the 50s/60s notoriously came from a fairly -PHOBIC culture in that specific sense), and that the guy being italian-american ie a *white* category that back then did not have *white privilege* put him in a lower class position than the black guy;

on the other side, it was spelled that the black guy’s issue was the contrary in the sense that he’s rich, he’s cultured, he speaks five languages, he’s not a stereotype and since people want stereotypes or expect them, he can’t seem to please either side and feels alienated from both, which I think is a discourse that should be way more relevant in a website where people talk all the time about people of color not being stereotypes and so on;

like the entire fucking point of that movie is that white guy overcomes his racism unlearning his ignorance and black guy has a few realizations about how classism works and reconnects with his heritage throughout the entire thing;

and the fact that it was the black guy explaining the white guy how to write the poetic love letters without grammar mistakes and got him to appreciate finer things in life while the white guy helped him get down to earth (which he plot-wise definitely needed - he was unhappy af before XD) *and* at the same time the movie never fucking forgot that skin color > money when it comes to systematical racism in the south (ie the scene where they get stopped by the southern policeman and white guy punches him bc he basically told him that being italian-american was being half-the-n-word and black guy tells him ‘yeah well I handled that my entire life you could deal with it once’ was FAIRLY DAMNED OBVIOUS even if it also showed that it’s Not How Things Should Go) was imvo a very good narrative choice/balancing;

also, I was really appreciating that scene where don asks tony (a guy who has no idea who orpheus is and thinks orpheus and eurydice is about orphans) to shorten his name because vallelunga is too difficult to pronounce and tony’s like ‘if the people you play for are so cultured they can learn to pronounce my name properly’ because like guys that’s a thing that happens with all non-anglophone names and seeing it come from someone who hasn’t had an education but doesn’t want to be *made better* because that doesn’t make them unworthy and then only accepts help when he wants it and doesn’t come from a position of ‘you need to look more presentable’ but from ‘I want to make your life better’ was really fucking nice excuse me, because it *did* make a point about how not being formally educated means that people are considered lesser when they shouldn’t have to fight for it, and I thought that the class-switch in there was a really great idea;

anyway nvm my specific opinions about specific scenes, the point is: green book is not heavy-handed and admittedly is a lot more sugary than BKKK and has the feel-good ending that makes it palatable for easy wins, but the content is fucking everything but sugary or devoid of discussing Serious Issues that I almost never see tackled in this kind of US movie and if people actually wanted to watch a movie that sees the subject counting that class relations exist, that some -isms are culturally learned and can be overcome, that money counts when we’re discussing how people are treated in the US, the *earned whiteness* concept (because tony is *white* but hasn’t *earned whiteness* and it’s plenty damned obvious) and that class relations are not automatically clear-cut *especially in the US* then green book is an absolutely valid choice. and like...... it wasn’t white saviorism in the sense that WHITE GUY GETS REDEEMED AND BECOMES UN-RACIST, it’s about two people growing and learning from each other and the fact that tony’s racism is tied to a) upbringing while being poor b) not literally knowing any better but that it doesn’t really take that much for him to see that his opinions are wrong when usually it’s poor black person vs rich white person, and actually that’s why I thought calling it reverse driving miss daisy was reaaaally not getting the point, so if people actually saw the damned movie before deciding it’s terrible that’d be nice;

I also think sp/ike lee was beyond rude in his, er, reactions to GB’s win, but then again... listen guys I love the man’s movies but since that time he went like ‘clint eastwood can’t make movies about charlie parker’ (??) and dismissed the italian partisans’s associations complains about what he did in miracle in st. anna (a movie I did actually really like but they were right about him villainizing the resistence when he could have not) with basically I DON’T CARE THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE ISSUES WITH HOW I, AN AMERICAN, DEPICTED A FAIRLY IMPORTANT PIECE OF ITALIAN HISTORY... like he needs to chill and to realize that there’s a thing called losing with grace and he’s not doing it.

tldr: bkkk imvo deserved to win way more and tbqh if I was spike I’d complain about bp having gotten more awards than his movie when bp really is the safest choice ever if we wanna talk about politics win, and I can agree that GB was a political choice, but it was not a bad political choice nor a racist one and actually it raised a lot of issues that I’d like to see explored more in movies because they usually aren’t. on top of that I thought mahershala ali’s performance in gb was fucking stellar and definitely was miles better than his part in moonlight (but like... bc he was in moonlight for TWENTY MINUTES, he was co-lead here) and I’m honestly baffled that when he won for moonlight there were gifsets everywhere and here there aren’t when this role was WAY better and more nuanced and with more to chew, never mind that again, he deserved it just for the speech under the rain I was discussing before. but like..... of course we’re all ignoring it??

also: I’m really laughing that tumblr as a whole is crying about GB winning when until two days ago bkkk was the worst thing ever because adam dr/iver starred in it and OMG OF COURSE HE WAS CHOSEN TO PLAY THE KKK MEMBER BECAUSE HE REALLY IS RACIST [lmao as if spike l/ee would work with a really racist person] and no one on this website gave a single fuck about it when it came out except for adam dr/iver fan blogs but now everyone is like OMG WHY DIDN’T BKKK WIN???!!!!! like guys you didn’t care about BKKK until a day ago and now I’m supposed to think you were rooting for it all along? when you all hated it because omg how dare they cast ky/lo ren in something where he’s not a bad guy? like we serious? come the fuck on, no one on here cared. and the fact that if blackpanther had won no one would say BKKK not winning = UTTERMOST CRIME just says all about how a film’s quality is judged around here. bye, I said my piece.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #k i said i was gonna shut up but #fuck all i'm really tired of seeing people dissing gb without having seen it #bye #Anonymous #ask post

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sephythespooky · 5 years

Text

Flower Child

(bringing valentine home from Goggle’s point of view)

Floret bitty from @gaiasteapot

Twister bitty from @selkiesbittybonanza

mythbitties from @mythical-adoptions

Chain lamia bitties from @vex-bittys

Puppy papri by @nyehtish

Sunlust lamia by @bitti-tarts

Moonjelly naga bitty from @dumplingsspookysweeties (aka me!) )

I liked the idea of being a helper. Not being able to see wasn’t fun, even if I only half know what that’s like. It let me bond a bit with Virgil, that first little while, both of us missing sockets.

But Valentine couldn’t see at all, so I could help them. I kept their bitty carrier secure in my coils all the way home.

“What sort of bitties are at home?” they asked as we got in the car. It took a lot of effort, at least it felt like it from the tone in their voice.

“Well, we have a lot of myth bitties at home, and quite a few snakes if you include Goggles. And then there are the puppies.” Sephy giggled about them. I knew she was in love with the big bones, and it made me happy to think about it. Made me feel more secure that our family wouldn’t fall apart.

“Puppies?” Val seemed to be confused.

“really tall skeletons with some dog features and tendencies,” I explain. the little rose leans against my scales and hums, acknowledging they heard me. “Sweet Bun is the housekeeper in the family. He’s the cook, the cleaner, and very nice. Then we have Goldie, who’s more of a lazybones, but he’s the protector kinda guy. And last is Gracey, who’s the newest pup. He’s shy and quiet, but he’s gentle to us and very enthusiastic about everybody being happy.”

Valentine seemed satisfied for a while, their fingers smoothing my scales with interest. But then they asked, “what about the myth bitties?”

“We have Dante, a Dietyrus who is very energetic but sweet,” Sephy lists off, counting on her fingers as we sit at a red light, “his Harbinger, Virgil, and their little brother, Orpheus, the Faerie. Then we have Adonis and Morpheus. Adonis is an Eastern Red, a dragon-”

“FIRE?!” Valentine yelped and crouched down in their box.

“hey, no, it’s okay,” I tried to purr to calm them. I could feel the little pings of panic from their soul, “donny never blows fire. even when he was super mad at dante once, he never used his fire. and even if he wanted to, he’d have to get through all of me first.” Poor little flower.

Sephy felt bad about it, too, I could see it in her face, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Goggles is right, Donny’s just a lazy noodle, and he’s really sweet, especially to his brothers and mate....”

“Wh-what are they?” the stammer showed they were still scared, but Valentine at least peeked their petals over the edge of my coils again.

“Morpheus is his first brother, and he’s a Lucirazz. Then we have a Dealer, Jubilee. He’s one of the sweeter red suits, a diamond, so he’ll be nice if you ask him to. And Donny’s mate is Amethyst, a Sunlust lamia bitty.”

I purr. Amethyst has been really good for our household. He made Donny happy, he helps me and Gracey and Sephy with our anxiety, and he love love loves the fact that we all like to cuddle...except Virgil, but I’m pretty sure he’s what Sephy calls a ‘tsundere’, like those cute cactus pictures she puts on her phone.

Valentine nods, “Anybody else?”

“Mmhm,” She’s turning into our apartment complex now, “I have a Chain lamia named Georgio, and I just found out yesterday that he and Wagner, his Vampyrus mate, are going to have a clutch of eggs soon.”

A soft gasp made me look down. Valentine looked nervous, “Babies?”

“Yes, babies.” Sephy slowly pulled into our spot at the end of the line. “And last we have Denim. He’s a Moonjelly naga, a classic sans type snake. He likes to boop people on the nose, but we told him to leave you be until you say it’s okay.”

Valentine has popped back up to full height, and I hold them tight while Sephy picks us up from the passenger seat. “Are the babies here yet?”

“not yet, rosey,” I explain. “Georgio and Wagner just barely told Sephy about it, and Georgio’s got his soul bond with Sephy. He’ll be kind of protective for a while until the babies are hatched and kinda big. So there’s no need to fret”

They ease a bit, and nodded again. “Okay. And they know I can’t see?”

“yep,” We’re going up the stairs so Sephy’s concentrating. She’s scared of twisting her ankle again like a few months ago, so I don’t blame her for being quiet. “usually when we take someone in from a center, we’ve all agreed they’d fit in well with us. only gracey and denim were surprise members of the family.”

They seem to relax for the most part, and Sephy gets them out of their carrier and opens the door.

“WELCOME HOME!” Sweet Bun’s voice greets us as always, and I feel Valentine jump at the sudden sound.

“Sweet Bun, remember-”

“Oh!” His voice is much softer now as he comes out of the laundry area and gives Sephy a hug. “Sorry, I forgot for a moment. Hello, little flower friend. It’s nice to meet you.”

Valentine reached out, and Sweet Bun put his finger into their hands. The pups were all at full height now, so he was over half a foot taller than Sephy now. It made me feel good that we had three tall guys here to help if something ever happened to Sephy. I know I couldn’t lift a whole human in my tiny arms.

“I do have to go organize the others, little friend. I’ll be back in a moment.” When he was let go, Sweet Bun zipped from room to room, gathering people as Sephy sat on the sofa after closing the door.

“Okay, Valentine. That was Sweet Bun. Are you okay so far?”

They say slowly, “I think so? It will take a little bit to get used to his big voice, but his small voice is good for now. Does anyone else have a big voice like that?”

“nope.” I don’t think so, anyway. Sweet Bun is the loudest of all of us. “Orpheus, we call him Fi for short, is a little loud and so is Morpheus, but they’re all way softer than Sweet Bun’s normal voice.”

“um?” I look down and Denim is there. He’s quiet, mostly, but he’s talking right now. And he actually wears shirts now. Sometimes.

“Valentine, Denim is here.” Sephy says, and their vines reach out.

“Hi, Denim.” Valentine is happy, so I’m happy.

Denim slithers closer and lets Valentine feel his face, “hi. i won’t boop you. um...what’s your name?” His voice is very very soft and I’m kind of surprised to hear it. He’s barely said a word to anyone since he came here.

“I’m Valentine. Thank you for not booping me, and I appreciate you talking softly.” Yes good. Everybody’s doing well so far.

Denim hums and nuzzles into Valentine’s hands, then backs away, “talk to you later,” and he’s off to wherever he likes to hide.

Amethyst slides up next, and I greet him. “hey, mey. meet valentine.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mey purrs and leans his face against my coil so Val can feel him.

“Oh. You smell nice.” Val mentions, and Mey starts to purr.

“Thank you. You smell and look fantastic, darling. Welcome home.” I had a feeling Mey would probably try to help Valentine out, too, and I didn’t mind.

“Goggles said that...that the dragon is your mate. He won’t burn me, right?” Aww, they were still worried about Donny hurting them. Poor Val.

“Oh no, he would never.” Amethyst cooed and gently kissed some of Val’s petals, earning a shy squeak, “Adonis is a tender soul who loves peace and family. And you are our family now, Valentine.”

“O-okay,” Val was blushing. and I knew things would be good. Mey could keep anybody calm.

Fi and Morpheus zoomed in, “I’M COMING, GOGGLES!” called Morpheus and Val shifted to face them as the two landed.

Fi squeaked and held out his hand, “HI! YOU’RE THE NEW FRIEND, RIGHT?”

By now, Sweet Bun was back and sat on the far end of the sofa, clearing his throat to announce his presence. Val reached out and found Fi’s hand, “O-oh, hi. Um, what is your name?”

“HE’S FI AND I’M MORPHEUS THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE!” Oh dear, M is being....well, himself. The more he grows up, the more (falsely) cocky he gets. I worry about him.

“Oh. Why are you terrible? Morpheus?” Val reached out their other hand and Morpheus seemed to realize his posing was useless and calmed down.

“BECAUSE I’M ME. AND BECAUSE IF I’M GREAT AND TERRIBLE I CAN PROTECT YOU AND FI.”

“AND I’M NOT TERRIBLE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE SCARY.” Fi answered a question no one asked. As usual for the cutie. “WE’LL HELP RAISE THE BLINDS FOR YOU TO GET SUNSHINE.”

Sephy chuckled, “That’s very kind of you, boys.”

Val hummed as he examined the two hands he was given. Fi’s wings were fluttering, and I said softly, “hey, fi, you’re awfully breezy today.”

He puffed up his cheeks and huffed, but Morpheus growled at me. Hah, cute. I love these two kids.

“Oh?” Val turned to me. “Was that a pun?”

“yeah,” I hum, “Fi was flapping his wings to make those little gusts.”

“Wings...” Val seems pleased with the idea.

“Um, if you’re ready for the others, Valentine,” Sweet Bun says gently, “they’re here. But at your pace, of course.”

Nodding, they let go of Fi and Morpheus, “it’s nice to meet both of you.”

They giggle and fly away, off to play more games.

Dante whines and puts his head on Sephy’s knee. I realize he can’t directly communicate with Val because he can’t speak. “virgil? would you mind translating for your bro?”

“It is my solemn duty and only joy,” Virgil huffs and appears on Dante’s head. “Valentine, you are in the presence of the great diety known as Dante, and I am Virgil, translator and brother of Orpheus.”

There are several groans and coos from Dante, and he signs while he makes them, for the benefit of the rest of the family (and so they can correct Virgil if he tries to twist the words).

“My god wishes you to know he is also blind, traditionally speaking, and can only sense the world through his amazing extra senses.” Val reached out their vines and was gently analyzing Dante’s face while Virgil talked. “Welcome to our divinely cultivated family.”

Val’s vines slip over Virgil, too, who is surprisingly patient with them. “Hello, Dante, Virgil. Thank you.” When the vines withdraw, so does Dante’s head.

Sephy says softly, “Are you doing okay, Valentine?”

“Um, yes? I could use some water, though.” She sets us on the cushions and goes to get some.

Sweet Bun pushes Goldie and Gracey forward, “Valentine, these two about to give you their fingers are Goldie and Gracey. Please present yourselves to our new tiny friend!”

Goldie’s soft, warm voice is always calming. If I had to pick someone to be in charge other than Sephy, Goldie wins. He loves us and is strong enough to protect us.

“hey, valentine. i’m goldie. it’s good to have you safe at home.”

Val shook his finger, then Gracey offered his whole hand to the searching vines.

“m’gracey...you’re a nice, soft little fella...that’s good.” This made Val hum happily. They liked being praised.

A soft purr reached Valentine’s attention, and they turned their head down to it.

“Georgio~” Sephy cooed as she picked up the mini chain. Here was our brave and gentle founder. I guessed Wagner and Starlight were back in the nest boxes.

“heya. felt how happy everybody was and thought i’d join for a minute.” He sounded sleepy. He probably was, if I had to guess.

“geo,” Goldie said softly, “check out our cute new pal.”

“ooh.” He turned and Val followed his movements with their head. “hey there, flower baby. i’m georgio, sephy’s chain. i’m a lamia, so snakey sounds are gonna happen. when they wake up tonight, you can meet starlight and my mate, wagner. they’re sleeping in the closet, but uh...don’t go there.”

“i...i don’t plan to.” Val answers shyly. Georgio purred some more and flopped on Sephy’s hand as it came closer.

“valentine, we’ll set you in the sun for a while now, okay?” I ask, figuring introductions were over.

“Oh. Okay.” they cuddle up to me as I set them against my back, heading to the windowsill. I figure I’ll let them sun and take a nap myself.

All in all, a good day.

#bittybones #mythbitties #chain bitty #floret bitty #puppypapri

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elleberquist6 · 5 years

Text

Play Upon Me Like This Piano - chapter forty-four

Summary: In many ways, Phil’s life is perfect: he loves his life in London, he has a wonderful brother and parents, and he has a great job as a radio DJ for BBC Radio One. There’s only one thing missing in his life… A rumor reaches an executive at the BBC about a talented local piano player named Daniel. The executive decides that Daniel would be the perfect guest on Phil’s radio show, so she sends Phil to speak with the evasive and mysterious piano player.

When they finally meet, Phil starts to think that he has found the person who will make his life complete. Unfortunately, Dan has a secret that will make getting close to him difficult.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4951

Warnings: Smut

—

The Myth of Orpheus: The mythological tradition names Orpheus as the pre-eminent musician of the "Golden Age" of heroes. Orpheus' music and song are said to have been so enticing that they could charm the very birds from the trees, soothe Cerberus and bring the Furies to tears. Orpheus' parentage is unclear and though all sources agree his mother was the Muse of epic poetry, Calliope, there is dispute over the identity of his father… although it appears as though his mother and aunts taught him to sing and play the lyre.

Although one might not expect a famous musician to be a "hero" per se, Jason sought out Orpheus to join him and the other Argonauts in his quest to recover the Golden Fleece for King Pelias… Orpheus' sole weapon was his lyre, which he used to raise the spirits of his fellow Argonauts, and to charm fish from the sea as food for their long journey. Orpheus' most famous contribution to the quest was, however, his dealing with the Sirens.

The Sirens were three bird-women, who lived on an island meadow scattered with the bones of their numerous victims. These monsters would sing a seductive song to passing sailors, luring them onto jagged rocks where their ships would be wrecked and the mariners drown. When the Argo neared this island, Orpheus began to play his lyre and to sing an echoing song in order to confuse that of the Sirens, thus preventing the crew from being seduced into a shipwreck. [http://www.ancientgreece.com/s/GreekMyths/Orpheus/]

“How do I look?” Dan asked, straightening his tie as he stared at his reflection. Over his shoulder in the mirror, he saw Phil watching him intently and looking like he enjoyed what he saw.

“You look lovely,” Phil responded, and his voice had an odd intensity to it, which Dan had come to associate with arousal.

Noting this, Dan had to bite his lip to hide a pleased smile, and he also had to force down the stirring of his own arousal – this wasn’t the time for that, though it was good to know that he looked that good to Phil. Dan turned to face Phil with a flippant response, “You always say that about me. Even when I have a cold and look all gross.”

As Dan turned, Phil continued to unashamedly check him out. He responded, “Maybe I wasn’t just talking about your appearance.”

Dan blinked. “What?”

Phil’s gaze rested on Dan’s face. “Maybe I meant you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

“Oh.” Dan took a step closer to him, and his gaze dropped shyly to Phil’s shoes. They were very nice shoes, black and polished to a shine. The rest of his outfit was just as nice – a tailored black suit that was buttoned at Phil’s trim waist. Dan’s eyes traveled up Phil’s body, noting how nicely the suit fit across his broad shoulders. Phil was wearing a brilliant blue tie that almost perfectly matched the color of his eyes, and Dan reached out to fuss with it, as if to straighten it. Really, he had just needed a task to busy his hands.

Dan wasn’t sure why he felt so vulnerable and fragile right now – Phil knew how Dan felt about him. Luckily, Phil also knew him well enough that he didn’t question the odd way he was acting. Phil just waited to see what Dan wanted to say.

Eventually, Dan cleared his throat and told Phil, “This is a really nice tie. It makes your eyes pop.”

Phil glanced down at his tie. “Oh, thanks.”

With the intense eye contact broken, Dan felt a bit more confident, and before he lost it he blurted, “You’re lovely, too. The most amazing person I’ve ever known, both inside and out.”

As Phil looked up, he smiled and his eyes sparkled with it. He leaned in to give Dan a lingering kiss. When they pulled apart, Phil was still smiling, but a shadow seemed to have passed behind his eyes and Dan could tell that he was holding something back. “Phil?” he asked. “What is it?”

Phil shrugged. “I was just thinking about saying something while we’re on the topic of heartfelt and borderline cheesy confessions. So, I’ve decided I don’t like the phrase ‘falling in love’. I didn’t know that before you, since you’re my first love. Whenever I was with someone before you, I always waited for this inevitable moment where I… fell, but it never happened. And then I met you, and it was nothing like I had expected. I had butterflies in my stomach and my heart beat so fast that I thought it was going to fly out of my chest. I feel like I flew in love with you, if that makes sense.”

“A bit more than borderline cheesy,” Dan said with a laugh, but he leaned forward so that his forehead rested against Phil’s. “I know what you mean though. And I like that. It’s kind of appropriate actually.”

Phil blinked and his eyes were so close that Dan could see every fleck of yellow in the blue, and the glint sunlight on his ginger eyelashes. He asked, “Huh?”

“I was thinking of the sirens from old Greek myths,” Dan said. “They weren’t from the sea like sirens you see in pop culture today. They were birds. So, you see they didn’t swim, they soared. It’s kind of fitting then that you say I made your heart fly.”

Laughing, Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s waist, lifted his feet from the floor, and spun him in a circle in the air. Dan whooped in delight and held tight to Phil’s shoulders.

Dan had been raised around the supernatural, yet still it surprised him sometimes. Perhaps hypnotizing a roomful of people with a voice was a true feat of magic, but Dan couldn’t help being more impressed by what he saw now: a wedding party at a 5-star venue in full splendor, all arranged and organized in less than a month. He stood in the parking lot by the event, and the scene before him looked fit for an appearance in any wedding magazine. Dan shook his head.

Phil noticed the gesture and that Dan had stopped walking, and he nudged him with a shoulder. “What is it? You okay?”

“Yup.” Dan nodded and started walking in the direction of the wedding party again, eyes on a chain of white paper lanterns strung between two nearby beach houses, the lanterns swaying in the breeze. “I was just thinking about my mum. I mean, how did she do all this in such a short time? She must have used her talent. There’s no other explanation.”

As they were walking between the houses, almost at the beach now, Phil opened his mouth to respond. He didn’t get the chance.

“But of course there is,” said a familiar female voice.

They both turned, and Dan saw his mum walking down the back-porch staircase of one of the beach houses. She was dressed in a white sundress that looked designer with a string of pearls looped twice around her neck, and her brown hair hung loose around her shoulders in carefully-styled waves. Dan nervously met her eyes, thinking she might be annoyed by his comment. Instead, he saw that her brown eyes creased at the corners with wry amusement as she beamed at him. Reassured, he walked over to give her a hug in greeting, as he said, “It’s good to see you, Mum. You look beautiful.”

She hugged him tight enough to make his ribs creak. “Thank you, honey. And thank you so much for coming.”

As his mum released him from the hug, her hands stayed on his shoulders like she was reluctant to break the contact, and this made Dan feel a rush of warmth in his chest. This was the one person in the world whom he knew he shared blood with and touching her seemed to make the blood thrum in his veins. Looking at the emotion on her face, it seemed like she might be feeling the same thing.

It had been a while since he had last seen her, but as they stood there the time they spent apart fell away, and suddenly he felt like a kid again, safe and happy in the hands of his mother. She had always seemed so strong to him, and the impressive sight of the party today had only reinforced this. Dan nodded to Phil, who had been standing a couple feet to the side to give the family some privacy during their reunion. He told her, “Mum, this is Phil, my boyfriend.”

Surprisingly, Phil looked a bit nervous – his cheeks even got pink – but he composed himself after a second and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Howell.”

“Please, if I’m going to call you Phil, then call me Monica.” She laughed and leaned forward to greet him with a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Besides, that’s not going to be my name for much longer. I’m about to be Mrs. Monticello.”

Dan glanced at the scene behind them and asked, “It looks amazing. How did you pull this together?”

“You mean without using my voice to hypnotize some hapless florists and bakers into getting free things fast?” She grinned at him. “Why, money. Of course, there’s nothing that can’t be easily acquired when money isn’t an issue – remember Nathaniel owns a vineyard? – and you can find good help.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “My wedding planner, Fiona… now there’s a woman who must have supernatural talents. She’s the one who really organized this all, so she’s the one you should be impressed with. Oh! And speaking of, there is somewhere that I’m supposed to be right now. Fiona has a strict schedule for this party. She’s tiny, but scary, and I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

Dan laughed. “Don’t let me hold you up then. Go stand on your mark so this party can get started.”

She reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “Remember, you have a mark to stand on, too. I want my boy at my side when I get married, if you’re willing to do that for me.”

“Of course, Mum.” He returned the squeeze.

“Thanks, sweetie.” She laughed and dropped his hand. “I should go.”

“Yes, let’s avoid the wrath of the fearsome Fiona.”

Mum gave him one last smile before turning and hurrying in the direction of her party, nimbly navigating the path in her sparkly sandals.

Phil stepped closer, also watching her go. He commented, “She’s an interesting lady.”

Dan glanced at him. He had been so distracted by his own reunion that he hadn’t bothered to worry about the fact that his mum was meeting his boyfriend for the first time. Now he wondered, had they made a good impression on each other? Would they get along? As he looked at Phil, it seemed like the remark had been genuine. Everything had gone well.

Dan nodded. “She is. I’m glad you thought so. Um, are you ready to head over to the wedding?”

Phil smiled and took Dan’s hand as they followed the path that his mum had taken. Eventually, they stepped onto the beach, which had been carefully prepared for this event. It looked like the sand had been combed and evened as much as possible before the chairs, garlands of flowers, and archway had been placed here, all of which were a pure shade of white. The most vibrant color on display here was the vibrant blue of the ocean in the background, which was sparkling in the sunlight. It was breathtaking.

They had both paused a couple feet away from the chairs, looking around, but a man in a white suit rushed up to them and asked, “Bride or groom?”

As he gestured to the chairs – two groups on either side of the aisle – Dan realized that this man was an usher. Phil answered, “Bride.”

The usher started to lead them to two empty seats on what was apparently the section for the bride’s guests, but Dan said, “I’m actually the bride’s son. She said I’m supposed to stand with her, um, somewhere?”

As Dan scanned the crowd for his mum and some sign of where he was supposed to be, a woman overheard him and flew to his side. “There you are!” A short red-headed woman glared at him through her glasses, and he knew without introduction that this was the fearsome wedding planner. She beckoned him with an insistent gesture. “Follow me.”

After waving in farewell to Phil, who was following the usher to a chair, Dan turned to trail after Fiona as she walked brusquely. When she glanced over her shoulder to see that he was following, he smiled at her.

She shook her head before facing forward again, grumbling, “You know, you could have at least come to the rehearsal. This day would be much less chaotic if you had.”

“Sorry, I didn’t exactly get much notice about this wedding,” Dan said, bristling slightly.

Fiona snorted. “Tell me about it.” She stopped walking and turned to face him, looking less hostile – it seemed like she had decided to bond with him over the inconvenience of the hasty wedding. Her eyes flicked over him, and she nodded in approval. “Nice suit. I usually approve the outfits of those in the wedding party to make sure they look like a cohesive group. If I’d had a chance to approve yours, that’s exactly the kind of thing I would’ve hoped you would wear.”

Dan was wearing his white suit, which he thought made him look like a stormtrooper. His shoulders lifted slightly with the praise – it sounded like he had avoided the wedding planner’s wrath. Then, an arm looped through his. He glanced over, seeing his mum smiling at him.

“I told you my son would look nice,” she said to Fiona. Then she met Dan’s eyes and asked, “Ready to walk me down the aisle?”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s go.”

The reception was taking place only a short walk away from the beachside wedding – in the backyard of the beach house. Dan lost track of Phil during the walk to the reception, but he had a guess of where he might be. As most of the wedding party strolled over to pose for photos, listen to live music, or partake of the generous open bar supplied by Nathaniel’s vineyard, Dan headed in a different direction. The tables on the lawns, decorated with elaborate centerpieces and embossed name cards, were empty except for a few elderly people who sat down for a rest. Servers in bow ties flitted between the tables, carrying trays laden with hors d’oeuvres as they hurried in the direction of the guests.

Tucked in a corner away from the chaos of the party was a white cake adorned with frosted flowers, fondant ribbons, and the figurines of a bride and groom. Phil was standing before the cake, seeming to be admiring it. Dan crept closer, until he was right behind Phil without having attracted his attention. Then he whispered, “I thought I might find you here.”

Phil gasped and whirled around. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” Dan teased. “Catch you trying to sneak a taste of the cake?”

His cheeks got pink. “I wasn’t. I swear.”

“Sure, you weren’t…” Dan drawled, but he relented as he turned his attention to the frosted confection. The figurines on top had such a likeness to his mum and Nathaniel that they must have been custom-made – the bride had brown curls hanging loose around her shoulders, and the groom had salt-and-pepper in his beard.

Phil was also staring at the cake. Slowly, he asked, “Can you see yourself having one of these someday?” He hesitated as Dan’s wide eyes shifted to his face, but continued, “A party like this… the cake, the ceremony, and the vows?”

“Phil, are you asking me if I’d want to get married someday?” He was sure that was what Phil was asking, but he stalled by saying, “What made you ask that?”

Phil shrugged. “When I saw you standing by that arch with your mum while she made her vows. You looked so beautiful up there in your white suit… it made me wonder what you thought our future might be like.”

“Oh.” Dan looked at the cake again, this time picturing it with a figurine of himself and Phil atop it. After a moment, he answered, “It’s a terrifying thing to envision – standing in front of all those people, making those oaths, and starting a new chapter of my life tied to someone. It’s not something I ever thought I wanted for myself, but with you? I think it’s possible. You’re the only person in the world who I can see myself doing something like that with. You make me brave.”

“You make me brave, too.” Phil opened his mouth to say something else, but then his phone buzzed. Sighing, he extracted his phone from his pocket, and read the name displayed on the screen. “It’s my mum.”

“Answer it!”

“Now?” He gestured between them with the phone in his hand. “We were in the middle of something…”

“Yes!” Dan whined. “I’ll marry you someday, and when I do I’d like to be on good terms with my mother-in-law. Now, pick up the call before she gets voicemail!”

Smiling, Phil accepted the call, which was a video call. He put it on speaker phone and Kath’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, mum! I’m here with Dan.”

She smiled and creases appeared at the corners of her eyes. Her voice came, small and tinny from the speaker, “Philip! And hi, Daniel! I was just calling to make sure that your flight went safely.”

“Hi, Kath!” Dan said with a wave.

“We’re fine, as you can see,” Phil assured her. “The flight was great, and we made it in time for the wedding. Everything is going great. And I promise to buy you some nice American candy while I’m here!”

She laughed. “You might buy it, but I’m sure you’ll eat it before you get a chance to give it to me. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts!”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but he was surprised to see Dan’s mum had approached them. She was grinning wide and grabbed the phone from Phil’s hand. Dan’s mum said, “Hi, is this Phil’s mother? I’m Monica. I thought I should introduce myself because based on what I just overheard, we might be in-laws someday.”

There was a pause before Kath said in an inscrutable voice, “Oh?”

Phil exchanged a look with Dan, who appeared apologetic. As Phil sorted through his own emotions, he just shrugged and decided to see what would happen next, as their mothers continued chatting on the phone. This might be entertaining…

“I’m Dan’s mum,” she said by way of explanation to Kath. “The boys came here for my wedding. Did they tell you that?”

“Yes, they did.” Kath was speaking in a firm voice, which she always used when trying to get her way. “Now, what was this you were saying about another wedding?”

“Oh, are you interested in weddings? Let me tell you about mine. Everything has gone perfectly today! The ice sculpture is stunning, the sun is shining, and the flowers are absolutely amazing. There are white roses everywhere. The centerpieces are so beautiful. Let me show you one!” Monica wandered off in the direction of an empty table where a centerpiece was resting.

Phil blinked. “I’ve never seen someone deflect my mum like that before.”

“My mum has a talent for deflection,” Dan said with a sigh. Then as he watched his mum in the distance, rambling without pausing to take a breath despite Kath’s attempts to cut in, he couldn’t help laughing.

Phil joined in with the laughter, his blue eyes sparkling. When their laughter died down, Phil nodded to the microphone and speakers mounted on a small stage on the corner of the lawn. He asked, “Are you going to perform soon?”

Dan nodded and checked the time on his phone. “Yeah, I’m supposed sing in a moment.” He shot Phil a worried glance. “When my mom asked me to sing for her, I didn’t explain the choice I’ve made to use my real voice. What if she hates it? What if she doesn’t like the choice I’ve made for myself?”

“Dan, I’ve heard you practice this song for today.” He took Dan by the shoulders and squeezed gently. “Your voice is beautiful and your mum is going to be proud of you. I promise.”

Dan swallowed heavily before nodding. Then he smiled and said, “Thanks, Phil. For always believing in me.”

Dan glanced at the stage and sucked in a steady breath. There was a small orchestra playing, just a half dozen people performing relaxing background music for the people strolling around the yard, chatting with cocktails in hand. The orchestra seemed to be wrapping up the piece they were performing, and this seemed like the perfect moment to go over. Mum had already made the arrangements, so the orchestra knew that Dan would be performing, and even what song he would be doing so they could accompany them. There was nothing holding him back.

Dan locked eyes with Phil, finding his courage in the ocean eyes. He said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.” They pushed through the crowd of guests until they made it to the stage, where the orchestra had just wrapped up a song and were organizing their sheet music before the next one. Dan addressed a cellist near the edge of the stage, “Hi, I’m the bride’s son? She said she would like me to sing a song? Is this a good time?”

“Ah! You must be Daniel.” The cellist got up from his chair to carry a mic stand to the center of the stage, which he then raised to Dan’s height.

Phil took Dan’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. He whispered, “You’re going to be great.”

Dan gave the hand a squeeze in thanks before releasing it and climbing onto the stage. He was breathing in slow and steady breaths so that he didn’t panic as his gaze swept the crowd, seeing the party guests turning to look at him curiously. For the first time in his career as a musician, he was facing the crowd without a piano before him and it felt like he was naked without it. This scared him even more than the fact that he was about to sing without his siren voice.

Dan’s eyes searched the crowd for familiar faces. He found his mum easily in her white dress. She was standing beside her new husband, Nathaniel, whom was also watching Dan expectantly. Mum waved, and then pointed to the phone in her hand. The phone was still displaying Kath’s face. Apparently, he would be performing for her today, too. His eyes roved further, and finally he found Phil’s face, shining bright with joy as he gazed back at Dan. That was all he needed to see.

He sucked in a deep breath before leaning into the mic. “Hello. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Monica’s son, Daniel. In honor of my mum’s happiness today, I’d like to perform a song. I hope you all enjoy it.”

The orchestra began to play a soft melody, and a few people in the crowd gave short, excited claps as they recognized the familiar tune. Dan began to sing in his normal voice, “I found a love for me. Darling just dive right in and follow my lead.”

Phil smiled at that line, and Dan could guess why – he had quite literally taken a dive when he fell in love with Phil. Knowing that their minds seemed to be in the same place, Phil shot him a wink, which almost made Dan laugh.

Shifting his gaze to less distracting people in the crowd, Dan focused on his mum and her new husband as he sung, “Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home. I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets, to carry love, to carry children of our own. We are still kids, but we're so in love.”

Mum clasped hands with Nathaniel, lifted them to her lips, and kissed the back of his hand. Nathaniel smiled at her and placed a kiss on the top of her head, but Mum never took her eyes off Dan and she didn’t even blink.

Dan had been worried what she would think about him singing in this voice, but he was starting to relax. His mum didn’t seem disappointed. Quite the opposite. “Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song. When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful, I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight.”

As he came to the close of the song, Dan found his eyes drawn to Phil again. He had the odd urge to burst with thanks in the middle of this performance for Phil. If Phil hadn’t suggested singing in his real voice, then none of this would have been possible. This entire crowd would be hypnotized right now, and Dan would hate himself for it. Phil had given him everything. “I have faith in what I see. Now I know I have met an angel in person, and he looks perfect. I don't deserve this. You look perfect tonight.”

It was hard to tell at this distance, but it seemed like Phil’s cheeks got a bit pink.

Dan’s fingers roved across the sheets, searching for warmth. He didn’t find the soft skin he was searching for, and he blinked sleepily before calling, “Phil?”

“Over here,” a voice answered from the other side of the room.

Dan rolled over, rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the moonlight streaming in the window, which seemed impossibly bright as it glinted off the nearby sea and glazed Phil in blue light. As Dan fought to full consciousness, he took in the visage of Phil standing before the open window. His inky black hair was tousled from sleep, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and he was nude except for his boxers. The planes of his leanly muscled body were washed out by moonlight, and he looked too lovely to be merely mortal. The sight of him made Dan’s heart squeeze in his chest. How had he gotten so lucky?

Dan asked in a sleep-roughened voice, “What are you doing there?”

Phil nodded to the view. “It’s not every day that I have a view like this outside my window. Sleeping and missing this seemed like a waste.”

Dan couldn’t argue with that, so he stayed silent.

“Hey, I have a crazy idea…” Phil crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. His face was shining with excitement. He asked, “Will you come take a swim with me?”

“What? Now?” He glanced around the room for a clock but didn’t see one. It must be around 3am. Then his gaze flicked back to Phil’s face, and he saw how much he wanted this. Reluctantly, Dan said, “Alright.”

Helped by Phil’s hand, he slipped out of their warm bed in just his boxers. They didn’t turn on any lights and tiptoed through the beach house, wary of waking anyone. As they stepped outside, the chill of the night air nipped at Dan’s skin – like Phil, he was clad in just his boxers. He felt exposed now under the light of a bright full moon but kept jogging onto the beach. His hand was still linked with Phil’s and he felt brave with him at his side.

The tide was high, pulled in by the moon, and the sea had swallowed most of the beach. A wave rushed fast and foamy in the sand only a few inches from Dan’s toes. He gasped in surprise and stopped in his tracks, his hands slipping from Phil’s grasp.

Phil turned around. The wind was whipping at his messy quiff, and his brow was furrowed in confusion. He asked, “What is it?”

Dan bit his lip and looked at the water. “Sorry. It’s just that besides that one time that I went into the sea to save you, it had been years since I went anywhere near it. It scares me a bit.”

“Do you want to go back inside?” Phil stepped closer, and this time he took both of Dan’s hands in his. “Or do you want to keep going?”

For a moment, Dan considered it. He had avoided the sea for a long time not only out of his fear that the water would expose him, but also because it felt so good, like he might sink into the water one day and never come out. As he looked at Phil, those fears fell away. He didn’t have to worry about Phil rejecting him for his webbed hands, and he didn’t think that he would be tempted to never get out of the water. Dan smiled to show Phil that it was okay, and he walked into the water with him. Wherever Phil went, Dan knew that he would want to go, too.

#phanfiction #phandom #phanfic #dan and phil #dan x phil #merman #mermaid #siren

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reylofanfictionanthology · 4 years

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Authors have now been revealed for For one is love and both are one in love!

Over 170 fics were posted to our Exchange this month and we are so excited to finally share the authors with you! Thank you so much to all of the writers who wrote for this event!

For one is love and both are one in love collection on AO3 | Gift Fic Master Post Part Two | Treats Master Post

Gift Fic Master Post Part One:

ghosts on the shore by dearly for aaronBursar

Sugar High by HopeRebelfor abbytheatre08

When Maz Kanata hosts five weeks of a Battle of the Bands competition, Rey Johnson and Kylo Ren find themselves both pitted against one another, and drawn together as the weeks go on.

Delayed For A While by tmf for aionimica

Death cannot stop love. All it can do is delay it awhile.

I am ready to follow you even though I don't know where by iamladyloki for AlwaysEverlark

A More Perfect Union by fangirl_outlet for america_oreosandkitkats

In the Den of the Darkwolf by Fairleigh for Amy326

Rey awakened in the darkwolf’s den.

happy cockus day by trasharama for andabatae

Hope Lives by gennalannisters for aNerdObsessed

Two Bits (or The Haircut) by Bombastique for Ann3onymous

Three days into their marriage of convenience, Ben and Rey are maybe starting to realize that there’s more to this arrangement than a green card or a cooperative board of directors.

We've Got a Good Thing Here by greyrey-lo (punkpoemprose) for Anysia

Event Horizon by SpaceWaffleHouseTM for Apisa_B

still caught in yesterday's wake by ilum for Apricot

A Dark Day Dream by Lizardbeeth for ArdeaJestin

Ben's come home, but Rey can't face him. Not because of anything he's done, at least not in real life. But in her fantasies? oh yes.

Become Who You Were Meant to Be by lucymonster for Aurae

The Spaces Inbetween by aionimica for Ayrith (freijya)

The Least Of What I Could Do by OkayPianist for benperor-ren (winterelf86)

"I refuse to play opposite someone who has never had a part in their entire life," sneers Ben. "Either Rey goes or I do."

Niima's by fantastic_fanatics for bensolosredemption

Devil Spawn by OptimisticBeth for Biekewieke

Belonging by Megara09 for bitterbones

Friends-with-benefits except whoops I'm in love with you now and hate seeing you flirt with other people because we're technically not together.

Paradise by englishable for bittersnake

Miss Johnson & the Professor by ElegyGoldsmith for blackheretic (redlondons)

Owner Malfunction. by VirtualMadness for Bombastique

Stealing the Light by NiriKeehan for bratanimus

Redemption isn’t given. It’s earned. Or: As the galaxy rebuilds from war, the man formerly known as Kylo Ren tries to make peace with the person he was, and the person he’s becoming.

Rey Niima and the American (Hot Piece of) Ass that She Just Wants to Tap, while also Not Dying in the Triwizard Tournament or Becoming Otherwise Inconvenienced or Maimed by MahoganyDoodles for Cairdiuil_Paiste

a forest of stars by QueenOfCarrotFlowers for caisha

I am a Soul Longing by La_Catrina for Ceallaigh

The World Has Been Sad Since Tuesday by crystanagahori for ceciliasheplin

Be With Me by tweis24 for Chthonia

A force connection between Kylo (Ben), and Rey. It takes place while she is on Ach-To, and he is on the Death Star.

between the shadow and the soul by ninecrimes for ClockworkCrow (icemink)

The Rescue by Vivien for cohava

how easy you are to need by OccasionallyCreative for Crimson_Alchemistress

The war is finished, yet Rey still carries wounds. They come in the form of nightmares, but Ben is there to comfort her.

stuck on how it feels here next to you by kuresoto for crossingwinter

Blue Sand by patig_00 for Crysania

covert mission: baby acquisition bitterbones for crystanagahori

hands that hurt, hands that heal solikerez for cuddlesome

Rey climbs on top of Ben and makes out with his sopping self after Force healing his stab wound.

It was not Death, for I stood Up by politicalmamaduck for CwenPhy

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

Good Boy by Aicosu for dankobah

Rey takes her dog to a nearby veterinary clinic for an emergency and doesn't expect to meet Ben (or anyone) while there.

The Unbreakable Bond by AlwaysEverlark for DarkSideOfMe

NiimaRide by witchsoup for datswatutink

Journey urge her not to stop believin' but provide no further clarification before she's strapped in the back seat and they're pulling away from the only real break she's had in twenty-four years.

To Hold and Give Light by midwinterspring for dearly

After Exegol, Rey takes an injured Ben back to the Resistance.

a conundrum of lightsabers by wombathos for devon380black (kryptonian17)

What Happens in Hotel Chandrila by starfleetjedi for DrPearlGatsby

Until the Wild Feelings Leave You by isszeldasayre for dustoftheancients

Rehabilitating from a battle injury leaves Rey an irritable mess. The way Ben hovers over her does nothing to help.

Kintsugi by Fic_me_senseless for ElegyGoldsmith

In the darkest moments, the galaxy is still filled with light.

give me shapes and letters, if it’s not forever by dankobah for ElleRen31

Where the ocean goes by Nebulous Bounds for Elywyngirlie

Sometimes getting out alive is the victory. Sometimes the rest takes a little time.

it shall not be death by TolkienGirl for englishable

Rey of the Jedi Knights is sent with her sword and Holy Fire, to destroy a palace of thorns.

It doesn't quite go as planned.

The Reckoning by bratanimus for Erin410

Because of Rey, Ben has grown rather good at waiting. But she’s waiting, too, for something that hasn’t dawned on him yet. [Post-TROS mildly angsty marriage proposal fluff, hope you enjoy!]

Trading Places by HellyJellyBean for Fairleigh

You'll Turn by shipperofdarkness for FangirlintheForest

A retelling of the Last Jedi's elevator and throne room scenes with a role reversal twist. Can Smuggler Ben turn Dark Rey?

Building Something Together by walkingsaladshooter for fantastic_fanatics

When Ben confronts his new upstairs neighbor who keeps making all manner of odd noises at all manner of hours, he didn't expect what she's doing up there. He also didn't expect her to be so pretty.

Little Starfighter by eliaatan for Fic_me_senseless

Convinced he ruins everything he touches, isolated and lonely Ben Solo successfully pushes everyone away, except for the girl who sees something in him she recognizes.

Benvenuto nella nostra famiglia by Ann3onymous for gennalannisters

Binary Suns by Twisted_Mirror for gigi_marlee

more everything by caisha for HalfwayThrough

"I'm the boss, I've earned the right to show up whenever the fuck I want." He was arrogant, condescending, and an asshole. And he didn't have a mark on his wrist.

One Stick of Unsalted Butter by HalfwayThrough for HopeRebel

come home, ben by shiiera for hxllosweetie33

Ashes of Life by Elwyngirlie for iamladyloki

Dark Rey becomes a reality and Ben has to remind her who she is

Negotiated Settlement Aurae for ilum

Coming Home by Xochiquetzl for incognitajones

After the Battle of Exegol, Rey and an injured Ben are trapped together on an uninhabited planet.

The Stray by TheOriginalSuki for itsinthestars

Peace and Purpose by Anysia for itsnotillegal

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Christmas Blues by benperor-ren for karlamartinova

and I'll come home to you by thewayofthetrashcompactor for kuresoto

Ben and Rey both escape Exegol, and the past follows them. To protect the strange child they've found, they set up a school for Force-sensitives, but Ben can't shake the weight of his guilt.

what stranger miracles by incognitajones for La_Catrina

Ben can’t even manage to die right, apparently.

the universe resting in my arms by AceQueenKing for Lightningpelt

Rey sees Ben, quietly tooling around the Skywalker homestead, his hands wet with mechanic's grease, and the image is so perfect that she holds her breath, not wanting to mar it with a loud breath.

counting my steps, reaching out to you by RedPaladin465 for Lizardbeth

Soulmates by itsinthestars for LostInQueue

After Ben Solo disappears in front of her eyes, she finds a way to bring him back, where love began…

Heal by ceciliasheplin for LRRH17

A few weeks after the Battle of Crait, the Force connects Rey and Ben again on several occasions.

Softly, Softly by Merixcil for lucymonster

First Impressions and Unexpected Connections by Melusine11 for LueurdeLaube

All These Things That I've Done by MissCoppelia for MahoganyDoodles

For Now by Celia_and for maq_moon

You can view the other two masterposts for this exchange in this tag.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #for one is both and both are one in love #master post #mod post #moodboard

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a-curious-wednesday · 6 years

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Today! On Unpopular Opinions: Destiny 2, Warmind

Destiny 2′s newest DLC, Warmind is borderline trash. Now, when I pre-ordered it, I, initially, went through the usual rigmarole. Foolishly placing my hopes and expectations that this $20 DLC would right all the wrongs that have plagued D2 since its outset, and then coming to the cold realization that by the time Bungie was willing to entertain listening to its Destiny fanbase, Warmind was likely all-but completed. Meaning that it would either be the same as DLC1, Fall of Osiris or negligibly better.

I realize there’s a lot of reasons for this. Bungie agreed to a ridiculous content schedule with Activision, where they were forced to pump out new content and games on a schedule that disallows for proper development and growth. That, the new direction of Destiny is Call of Duty w/Space Losers. That, because, for the second time, Bungie changed D2′s game direction in the eleventh hour; brought in new people who did not understand the lore or what the game was supposed to be, etc, etc, etc.

And yet, here we are.

The campaign Warmind is alright. And I mean that in the loosest of senses of the term ‘alright.’ I have many problems with its story direction. Some of them, a lot of you have previously heard before: silent protagonist, uptight, kiss-ass ghost, stiff character development. There are other issues I take up, however. Issues that just left me scratching my fucking head in a general mystified and annoyed manner. (Note: there be spoilers)

1) Once again your Guardian follows along with some half-assed plan to save the universe. (Which, if I’m being honest, the Universe never felt threatened during Warmind. It’s more of a, “hey, can you help me get rid of these guys who’re crashing my place? They smell bad, eat all my food, don’t clean up after themselves and are generally ungrateful jerks.”) This plan, borders the epitome of asinine, mind you. It amounts to:

Zavala: “Hey, let's take a piece of the Traveller and bait this giant-ass snake-god thing.”

Ghost/Guardian: “...”

Ana: “Then, what?” (Ana, who is suddenly an expert in the Hive asks curiously. Meanwhile, your ghost, who should have wised up and remembered that you fought ORYX, the Black Garden, Skolas, SIVA (which, were, generally betterish plans) should have had concerns.)

Zavala: “We wing it.”

Ghost/Guardian: “...” (Both of you should have protested, citing how we winged it with the Almighty and Ghaul and that didn’t really work out. The Almighty is still slowly destroying Mercury, but NOBODY mentions that. The next time you’re on Mercury, stop what you’re doing and look around. The planet is still being ripped to chunks and pulled into the Almighty.)

Ana: “What? We could use Rasputin--”

Zavala: “No! Absolutely not.”

We use Rasputin.

How? His “relic weapon” a super-heated/conductive spear that we literally chuck at a god. I mean, why not, right? We took down Oryx who was (pre-”established D1 canon is hearsay and folklore and not fact”) literally the strongest God we’ve fought since the quasi-para-casual tentacle thing that was supposed to represent the Darkness embodied. At least, in the Black Garden, they had the good sense to have us beat the damn god by proxy. Defeating Xol was just lazy writing. He’s a fucking Worm God! You know, the thing, Auresh/Oryx took/consumed to become the taken King and literally lead the Hive out of the Fundament/Deep.

But, hey, it’s cool in the end. After all, Xol was the weakest, puniest Worm God of the bunch. It's not like it/he had power only rivaled by the OTHER WORM GODS. Let’s chuck a nuclear spear at it. That’ll kill it. Because science!!

2) Your Guardian is sent to the Deep/Fundament by a fucking God. Xol literally transports you to another plane of existence, cutting you off from the Traveller’s Light (because your plan is so asinine) in order to kill you slowly. Mind you, this place is a horror show of horror shows. The Deep makes Hell look like a vacation to Mazatlan. There are things there that preyed on the Krill/Hive, things that we, humans and guardians could not comprehend without the Books of Sorrow/Toland.

Do you understand the wasted potential for story this was? It was monumental. Monumental! Me, an Exo, was transported to the Hell of Hells by a literal God, because I wasn’t worth its time. I’m there, floating around for, I don’t know, minutes? My annoying ghost is freaking out. Meanwhile, Xol has had enough of our shit. He’s gone to destroy Rasputin (which, he might have done anyway, but hey, nothing like 3rd party intervention to up the timetable). With the Warmind removed from the gameboard, Xol has a clearer line to solar conquest. Why? Dunno, it's never mentioned why a God would wish to conquer Sol. It never really seemed to care that the Traveller slept above Earth before it awoke.

It didn’t seem to care that the Traveller had.

Meanwhile, my Exo titan is floating in something that vaguely looks like blood. There’s some weird stills of probably torture? Good thing, I’m an Exo. Don’t feel pain, because robot. Don’t need to breathe or eat, because robot. Don’t get tired, because robot. And, then, miraculously, my guardian climbs up from a crevasse, obviously drained and near death. My ghost is quick with the first aid and I’m good to go.

...Seriously? Okay. Okay. I can kind of see how that works if your guardian is an Exo. Because robot. But, human? Awoken? How? Just how? You were in literal mortal danger *again*. Presumably, you needed to figure out what the Hellscape the Deep was and how to navigate it. You would need a way back to your native dimension, which would require you to seek aid from the natives. Except, the natives have never seen your kind and they all want to kill you. And this would take time. Somehow, against all odds, you find someone who’ll help you escape and you make the journey together, because let's be realistic: there’s always that one person who knows the way, but was too chickenshit to go it alone. That person dies getting you to the “portal” which’ll take you back to your dimension. By the way, you’ve got no Ghost. No Light. Limited ammo. No food. Nothing to repair your weapons and armor. No oxygen to breathe.

Somehow, you climb your way out, just like the Kratos climbed out of Hades. Or, from an actual literary standpoint how Orpheus and Eurydice. Dante and Virgil.

Except, not, because you get treated to a 30 second cut-scene of flashing images and your guardian clawing their way up a crevasse.

Kudos, Bungie. Good job. If the fanbase of Mass Effect could flip shit over the ending of ME3 to such a degree that they had the game’s actual ending redone (via post-production patch that was FREE) to better please them and work with the meta of the MEU, what do you think the fanbase of Destiny will do? Don’t answer. I know its buy shit from Eververse.

3) Rasputin. The titular reason we’re even on Mars. The whole reason Anastasia Bray (Clever, Bungie. Clever. Rasputin and Anastasia.) has gone to the Hellas Basin. She didn’t go there to go home. Not really. She went there to connect to a thing that she built that transcended all known laws and bounds. It was alive, but alive in a Godly sense. Not bound by the constructs of Human morality. Oh no. Ana might not initially know for sure why she was drawn to Clovis Bray. Sure, she awoke to her second life with her name badge on her person. And then was summarily told not to investigate her past. As if she were an Exo or concerned about DER. She might not have consciously known she was seeking Rasputin, but she always was.

Meanwhile, Rasputin is a God, created by man to protect Us All. Given sovereign to do so as he saw fit. Think about that. Think about Humanity as a whole currently. In what universe would all of Humanity greenlight the creation of something like this? Never mind that, think about Humanity collectively since the dawn of science fiction writing. When has it ever benefited Humanity to place their safety in the hands of others? My Skynet senses are tingling. But, wait, it's okay guys. Moon X/the Traveller is here! None of us understand what it is, but let’s go meet it. While they’re doing that, let’s sanction a civilian company to build a guardian that thinks for itself, learns independently, is prudent, wise and plays the long game. Let’s make it so its not bound by Human morality so it can make the hard choices, us Humans would flinch at. Nobody knows how a Moon is moving on its own or terraforming whole planets! But, we’ll put our faith in a machine.

By the way, none of us truly understands or can comprehend this thing that we’ve built. Oh, and there’s no way for is to. All of which, happened during the Golden Age, before the Collapse. Interestingly GA mankind already knew of the Vex, so most likely reverse engineered Vex tech went into the creation of Rasputin.

Oh, and it's just Rasputin. Whose always been on Mars. Sure, they retcon/bungiesplain it away well enough, but still. Where the hell is Charlemagne, Jys or Virgil? It was established that Charlemagne was the Warmind of Mars, but now its a submind. They’re all Submind. In other words, the children of Rasputin. Story potential!

...Never mind, that’s not D2’s development team’s prerogative.

Fast forward to the present and Rasputin has become active because the Traveller has awoken. His old foe, his biggest threat. The one thing Rasputin still doesn’t comprehend. Its awake/alive again. Its parasites (guardians) have been doing a terrible job of policing Sol and protecting Humanity. Not their fault, their still human. Rasputin was fine with letting the parasites struggle. It could focus on (presumably) the triangle ships, holding back the Red Legion, Eliksni colony convoys, Tomb convoys and other nightmares. It was smart, cunning. Playing a very real and deadly game of chess. He couldn’t reveal too much of his might or himself, that would draw unwanted attention. Then the Traveller awoke and the rules changed. So, he throws off his disguise and swings into full production/activity. Warsats activate that have been dormant for centuries. Orbital strikes occur all throughout Sol, hammering the Legion, Hive, Vex, Fallen, Taken. And Xol thaws.

Yet, still, Rasputin is incomprehensible to us. And we, “the” guardian, aid a shortsighted, single-minded Doctor in unshackling it. Yup, we did that. Nearly killed him in the process, but we did the damn thing. Doesn’t matter, though, in the end, right? Because Rasputin is a machine, built for us. Except, not. No. He’s more than that now. Now, Rasputin is completely Free and he proclaims that he’s going to protect his ants. Yeah. Good job, Ana. Oh, and Zavala still has complete faith and trust in us. Despite! Despite having solid reservations in utilizing Rasputin. Despite the fact that we ignored our Commander and leader. It’s cool, though, right? We’re celebrity status. We’ve taken down 2, count ‘em, 2 Gods. Crota was a Demigod at best. (But, he got his own Raid... Nokris.)

Does Anastasia know this? Nope. She never mentions it. Never mentions Oryx or Crota or the Black Garden or how we did what no one else could. And we did it with no plan and 3 to six other insane guardians with annoying, uptight ghosts. To her, we’re just a guardian with a ghost that has a stick up its USB port. Weird, right? We’re Iron Lords for crying out loud! Young Wolves. Bounty Hunters for the Reef Queen. Prison of Elder gaolers. Emissaries of the Cult of Osiris and now the Nine. Oh, and some of us are Faction Heralds. Standard Bearers for Dead Orbit, Future War Cult or New Monarchy. If you got the exotic class item from DO, FWC or NM in D1, youse a Herald and Standard Bearer.

Is there ever mention of this? Nope.

4) The Hive finally gets snipers/sharpshooters and shield-wielding swordsman. Both of which seem like obvious no-brainers to have always been incorporated. Except! That goes against the Sword Logic. So, sincerely, you get a plus for adding them to the heretical, “cowardly” faction of the Hive.

Question for you, though. Why would you knowingly (God, I hope it was knowingly) honor previous canon in this instance, but not with others? Like, where Xol is concerned? Or the Deep/Fundament? Or Rasputin? Why the cherry picking?

5) Why even bother naming yellow-bar area and mission bosses or units if you won’t bother explaining who they are, what they do and what they want? Because, I honestly, lost interest in reading the named enemies once I realized there was no information about them in or out of the game.

From a Gameplay standpoint, it's what you’d expect from Destiny 2. Up-tempoed action with moments of intensity and hopeful triumph. If you play smartly, it rewards you. If you overextend yourself, prepare to get ganked. Horribly. Progression is more inline with its predecessor, which might make the casuals pause. Thankfully, it isn’t like Day 1, Vanilla Destiny, where it was impossible to reach Light Level Cap solo and without completing Raid/Nightfalls. Except, no one would take you if you didn’t have G-horn or Icebreaker. Ah, the Good ol’ days of the Grind and the Loot Caves. My point? The action is more reminiscent to that feel, just with all the current bells and whistles, which is a good thing.

Exotic weapons finally feel fucking worthwhile. I played the whole Warmind Campaign with the combination of Sweet Business and Actium War Rig and I absolutely love it! Add the Galliard-42 or the Kibou AR3 for some added fun and thrills. Pairing the Tractor Cannon with Sentinel is immensely satisfying. That punk, Nokris didn’t stand a chance. And neither did his minions. Melts the opposition. Plus, its just really satisfying to watch 5 charging Knights (with sword and/or shield) get punted halfway across the room or into a wall or over a ledge. I finally feel like how those damned Taken Phalanxes must feel. The Borealis is a fun choice, too. Although, I haven’t spent much time with it. The payoff for matching damage types and busting shields is well worth it.

The added cosmetic gear is neat. My new favorite jumpship, hands down, is Currus Gloriae XLII. As a Titan, having a spaceship that looks like it can go to war and do some damage is a welcomed plus. The sparrow, Azure Azazyel looks really awesome. Even though it doesn’t have an interesting contrail effect, it still is fun to ride. It feel like it belongs in Akira or Bladerunner and I dig it. What I’ve seen from the new emblems, they’re decent.

The updated effects of the new guns is much needed. Dragonfly on an autorifle? Yes, please. Rampage on a Handcannon that you don’t have to grind for? I’ll take it. The new Ghost shells are blase at best. The emote wheel is a nice touch, but seems a bit late.

Hoo boy, Override Frequencies and Memory Fragments. Gotta hand it to you there, Bungie. I could not figure out how to get those until you unlocked them. And those Fragments? I didn’t even figure out how to unlock them. Or I did, but it didn’t work? Don’t try shooting them until after you unlock Hellas Basin. Found that out by accident. Thank you, random Guardian who was just shooting at a ledge!

So, like I said on the outset: Warmind, as an expansion is alright bordering on trash. It is entirely redeemed in its Gameplay, but woefully drops the ball where the story is concerned. Is it worth the $20? Eh. You’d probably still be better off waiting for the comet expansion to drop and for Bungie/Activision to repackage and re-release Destiny 2 this fall/winter. There will be some that will find it a $20 well spent and others who won’t, who’ll swear off the franchise completely. As for me? Its an investment. Like investing in Roseart and hoping they turn into Crayola. One day, they just might.

#Destiny 2 #DLC2 #Warmind #Review #Hooo boy #Meh #Spoilers #Unpopular Opinions

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jflashandclash · 7 years

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Attrition of Peace

Twenty-Six: Alabaster

Cock-Blocked by a Talking Head

Warning! There’s a mildly grotesque… thing (?) in this chapter. I’m not really sure it needs a warning or what that warning would fall under, but… you’ve been warned? Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Or love to hate it after the events of that last chapter! Your choice!

Alabaster hadn’t faced such a paralyzing conundrum in years: if he stood up, he might wake up Kally, but if he stayed where he was, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Being this considerate was highly illogical.

What he should have been thinking about was what other ingredients he could mix that shape shifter’s ear with to make a more poignant transmodifcation potion or what he was going to do with the Pax brothers and their band of Ol-Sissies in the morning. In particular, how he was supposed to feed them, considering he remembered Axel tearing through half a box of cereal before Alabaster had his morning tea steeped.

But here he was: his heart panging erratically each time he or Kally moved in their shared sleeping bag. He didn’t know this girl. Well, he sort of knew her—he’d read her journal, about her mother, her adventures with the Pax brothers and her story ideas. But that shouldn’t have been enough. He wasn’t like Ajax, just falling in love—er—liking—er—infatuating over someone because. He had to think things through. They had to make sense.

This must have been Eros’ or Aphrodite’s folly. He refused to be their puppet, or fall to the whims of—

Until Kally shivered and he debated whether or not he should shift closer or put an arm around her. Was that horrendously inappropriate?

Relief came to him in the worst way possible: the sound of a guitar, a wretched song, and some shriek-mutterings.

“Oh, Jack must have escaped,” Alabaster muttered, wanting to groan.

“Escaped?” Kally asked, her voice too alert to have been sleeping. She sat up, and Alabaster saw their chance to go inside, though he couldn’t will himself to get up. He felt dumb for how much he liked sitting beside her. From the disconcerted look on her face, she might have been thinking the same thing.

“Claymore and I keep him gagged and locked up for safekeeping,” he said. With assigning everyone a room and everything with Pax, he’d forgotten their nightly ritual of detaining Jack. Plus, at Camp Othrys, they didn’t have to, and Alabaster couldn’t help but feel nostalgia with the Pax brothers around.

At her disturbed stare, Alabaster assured, “He should be okay. When he’s alone, he normally just wanders around the yard composing ballads—”

Someone shouted. After a delay of recognition, Alabaster and Kally locked eyes. That had been Ajax, his voice weakened from sobbing. Had there been other shouting? Alabaster had been so focused on Kally, he’d written off other sounds as the neighbors.

A loud split, like thunder had torn a crater in the earth, cracked in the air. The ground trembled once.

They shoved the sleeping bag away and scrambled to their feet. Neither was armed—they should have gone inside for weapons earlier. He had extra spell prepared on his pants but…

Alabaster stumbled when one of the runes on his pajama pants glowed brilliant green. He gritted his teeth.

Kally grabbed Alabaster’s arm to help pull him up. “What’s that?!” she asked, her eyes searching the yard for Pax.

“Someone is trying to break through my barrier,” he hissed.

A very powerful someone. He could feel the Mist twisting to the command of another.

“Are there any children of Hecate after you?” he demanded. This was almost as bad as Lamia.

Kally shook her head. “N-no. Uh—unless—I think Leo’s girlfriend could do magic? Was the original Calypso a child of Hecate?”

Alabaster’s eyes widened. “The sorceress? Why didn’t you say—” he cut off. No one but the Pax brothers would have realized how vital that was, and they might have been sparing Jack’s feelings about Calypso.

A dark figure skirted around the side of the house. Alabaster flinched. Something shouldn’t have gotten through his barrier without him detecting—

Alabaster relaxed when he recognized the single glint of Pax’s hazel eye and heard the racking hackle of Jack’s song. Alabaster tensed all over when he saw that Pax was alone. No—not alone—

Pax scrambled up the stairs. He trembled and choked on sobs when he skittered to a halt in front of them. He was pale. Mud smeared his knees, and there was a nasty bruise forming on his neck, like someone had tried to take a chunk out of it. He bent over and put his free hand on his knee. His other fingers were tightly clenched in a mess of short, dripping red hair.

A mess that was definitely talking.

“--okay, kiddo, it was just Nico, and we hate that—” the head said.

Pax gathered himself enough to say, “Jack’s dead.”

“I see that,” Alabaster said, unable to look away.

When Pax registered Alabaster’s and Kally’s looks of horror, he gave another sob—this one of relief. “Can all of you hear him too?”

Alabaster nodded.

He could see Kally do the same from the corner of his eye.

Some part of him was fascinated. The other part of him wondered if his fascination signified how much more therapy he needed. Had this been another situation, Alabaster might have chastised Pax for bringing home wartime trophies. Alabaster already thought it was gross when the weasels did it.

Pax let out a hysterical laugh, twisting the mess of hair. Alabaster’s stomach clenched. He’d had to dissect plenty of bodies for spells, but he didn’t often recognize them. Jack’s face was ghastly pale. His eyes were sunken and his lips looked parched and blue under the spittle and blood. There was a hole in his cheek, leaking more fluids. Despite all of that, his eyes were alert and his mouth wouldn’t stop moving. Now, he was humming the tune to, Don’t Stop Me Now.

Pax laugh-cried, “Oh, thank the gods! Not that I’m happy all of you are going crazy too, just that it isn’t just me.”

Kally reached a hesitant hand out towards Pax, but stopped. “Ajax, are you—”

“No!” he cried, “No, I’m not okay!” Alabaster guessed she was going to say, hurt, but knew stopping a Pax mid-rant was like stopping a train with a school crossing sign. “I’m holding a decapitated—”

“—very handsome—” Jack interjected.

“—very handsome, talking head of a surrogate father I’ve had to watch die twice! And I’ve probably been exposed to all kinds of diseases, like ebola—”

“—actually, it was pneumatic plague,” Jack corrected indignantly, “Keep your pandemics straight.”

“—shingles, and whatever he gave Annabeth! Oh, and Will’s blood.”

“Mono,” Jack said.[1]

“Annabeth is here--?” Kally started to ask, but put a hand to her mouth. “Is Will okay?”

“He was looking a little on the corpsy side after Jack finished his family bonding,” Pax used Jack’s head to gesticulate on family bonding. Someone needed to take Jack’s head from him… but Alabaster really didn’t want to touch it. “Then Nico went all shadows and poofballs to save him and Melinoe captured him to use him as a shadow bridge and now the others are coming for us,” he babbled in one breath.

“We need to wake up everyone, assuming that cracking noise didn’t wake them up,” Alabaster said. He could feel the shield around his property waning. “The barrier will only give us maybe—five more minutes at this rate. Ajax—”

Pax burst into a fit of giggles. He almost doubled over. Both Alabaster and Kally flinched.

“Get it?! Get it?! Jack’s the head of Orpheus Metal. The prophecy! Orpheus’ head won by heart’s loss. I’m at the loss! Why are the Fates so much more creative than me today!” Pax continued to giggle between sobs and gasps. “You win, Fates! You win this round!”

Many stories said Orpheus’ head sang after it was cut off, though Alabaster didn’t know why they would need a singing head. What they needed to do was get inside and ready for a fight. If Annabeth and Nico were here, he had a guess as to which demigod would be leading the charge. The thought of fighting Percy Jackson excited Alabaster, but not in his pajama pants.

Alabaster went to command them inside when Pax hugged himself, not seeming to care that Jack’s head bopped against his hip. He choked and coughed.

“Aw, kiddo, it’s okay—” Jack started.

Kally removed one of her socks and jammed it into Jack’s mouth. She shivered, examining Pax. After opening and closing her mouth once, she pulled Pax into a hug.

Normally, Alabaster might warn that she was falling for one of Pax’s ruses. But Pax could barely breathe. And Jack was definitely dead in Pax’s hand. A shudder of horror rumbled through Alabaster when he realized Death really couldn’t keep Jack away.

And part of him broke, knowing Pax really needed him right now.

Kally reached back, grabbed Alabaster’s sweater, and dragged him into the hug.

He counted out five seconds, trying not to think about how freaked out Pax was. Or Kally. Alabaster had seen plenty of severed heads. He guessed this was her first.

“We need to get inside,” Alabaster said. Later. They could help Pax later. And… do whatever you were supposed to do for decapitated heads to Jack. “Let’s get inside and get Axel.”

As Alabaster had hoped, the others were readying themselves. They must have heard the crack. Axel was decorated with a myriad of weapons strapped on with various holsters: hoplite swords, daggers, knives, and others, both celestial and human-made. He had donned his Nemean Lion pelt. With that, his bracers, and his old leather pteruges[2], Axel looked more like the honored lieutenant Alabaster had proudly looked up to.

The child of Eros had his bow ready, peering out the front window like a sniper. Euna had Backbiter drawn, standing beside him. Merry sat on the stairs, pale, jutting her jaw to one side.

The weasels practiced a war dance all around the living room.

Needing no instruction, Axel handed Alabaster his playing cards as he, Kally, Pax, and… Jack entered.

“What in Hades is going on?” Calex demanded from his lookout by the window. “We heard—Holy Hygieia! Pax, why do you have that mental bloke’s head?!”

Jack finally managed to dislodge and spit out Kally’s sock. “I believe the full term is ‘mentally handicapped’ for the political activists. Don’t want to upset Axel,” he teased.

“Oh gods, it talks,” Calex hissed, touching his temple with one hand.

“Jack’s dead,” Pax greeted his brother.

“Again,” Axel acknowledged as he handed Pax the Silver Tongued Snake helm, his bronze chest plate, some clothing, and Pax’s utility belt and attached daggers. His eyes glazed over Jack the same way Alabaster had seen Axel register other dead in the field of battle: a current logistic, grief best left until grief had time. Though Axel did puff up his cheeks and pop them.

Alabaster flicked his Mist cards through his fingers. Claymore’s was on top, but now wouldn’t be the time to awaken him. As much as he wanted Claymore’s guidance, another body cluttering the room wasn’t what they needed. He flipped to the next set of cards, summoning his bulletproof vest. He hesitated on the imperial gold sword. No… for this, he wanted his old weapons.

Axel handed Alabaster his Cloven Witch Boy helm, the goat skull enlaced with Stygian iron. The Triple A Chimera helped each other suit up like no time had passed since their last mission.

There was a card towards the bottom of Alabaster’s deck that he’d almost thrown away on multiple occasions. He withdrew it, summoned the contents, and handed a thin vial off to Pax. “This is the remnants of some knock out serum. You get one shot. Don’t waste it.”

Jack hummed the whole time and Merry and Calex looked like they might throw up.

“Pax Bae, sweetie, you and I need to have some real talk time about you bringing body parts and dead things home,” Merry whispered.

“They sent a diplomacy party—” Pax explained while Axel strapped down Pax’s bronze breastplate.

“Amicablicious!” Merry cheered. “So why—”

“—that Jack attacked. And now it looks like I played whack-a-mole with Will Solace’s face and poofed Nico Di Angelo into hipsters and Hot Topic.”

“Did you?” Calex asked, his eyes narrowing.

Axel and Kally shot Calex a look. Kally’s was of bewilderment. Axel’s was anger. His message was clear, don’t question my brother.

Pax’s jaw dropped and began to tremble again. “How could you ask that? You know I ship Solangelo.”

“Maybe we can still use some sweet talk. Pax, what exac—?” Merry started to ask.

“AJAX PAX!”

A rumble shook the house and something roared along the shutters. The window glass exploded inward.

Calex and Euna shouted and dove onto the floor.

Everyone crouched and ducked.

“Let’s talk and flee, shall we?” Pax shouted over the boom of wind as it knocked over lampshades, tore loose papers out of the bookshelf, and knocked Alabaster’s favorite teacup off the coffee table. It shattered on impact with the rug.

“What is that?!” Kally asked.

“If I had to guess? Jason expressing his feelings. He’s a very sensitive kind of guy!” Pax shouted back.

Something smashed into the front door. A piece of the wood fractured. Alabaster wanted to curse. Though weakened, his rune barrier hadn’t collapsed yet. No living thing—human or monster—should have been able—

The wooden frame cracked, and something silvery thundered into the living room.

Alabaster summoned one of his best Mist cards: his two pronged, Stygian iron staff. Whichever magic user they were facing must have been powerful to sneak in a—

A silver worktable.

With the wind dying down, Alabaster could swear there was a faint, “Felix! Come back! I wasn’t supposed to program you with door ramming abilities until next week!”

Maybe they would have shared a collective sigh of relief, had the sentient table not bound across the room. Before any of them could get in the way, the worktable slammed into Kally, knocking her flat.

The table lifted a leg above Kally’s head.

She yelped and twisted out of the way of a blow that would have crushed her skull. Instead, the table leg pinned her sweatshirt hoodie, preventing her from rolling away. Kally scrambled to squirm out of the article of clothing.

Alabaster slammed his staff into the leg, jolting her free.

“Hunnie!” Pax shouted.

The weasel scurried out from under the couch. Her approach became much more intimidating when Hunnie expanded to the size of the couch. She slammed into the worktable, rocketing the table back through the front door.

“Out the back!” Axel commanded.

“But—the van and Vinyl—” Calex started.

“Now!”

Alabaster had abandoned so many houses over the last year, all he could do was internally sigh at the thought of going back on the market. At least it was easier with Claymore around.

But, he wanted to take a stand and fight. He’d run from Lamia and the Romans for months. And now, he could possibly have the chance to fight Percy Jackson and Jason Grace and show the pawns of the Olympic mafia what they’d taken from him?

While he hesitated, Pax grabbed the hand he had on his helmet and Kally grabbed the one on his staff. They dragged him back through the backdoor they’d entered moments ago.

From a glance behind, Alabaster could see Euna dragging Calex and Merry in a similar way. Axel followed out last, assuring the group was together.

As they raced down the porch, the rune on Alabaster’s pant leg shattered. A jolt of pain and weakness spread from the break, darkening his senses momentarily. The rune barrier collapsed. The house was now exposed.

They couldn’t make a stealthy retreat, not with Jack mumbling the whole time and the clank of their armor.

The three weasels swarmed around their feet. Hunnie was back to her tiny size, having either won or given up on the fight against the work table. For the sake of defending Hecate’s craftsmanship, he hoped the former.

“Alabaster! Best retreat?” Axel demanded.

“The forest,” Alabaster snapped. Despite Lamia’s recent absence, Alabaster had gotten into the habit of planning escapes. Reflexively, he’d directed Pax and Kally towards the woods, taking the lead.

“Merry—I know it’s a lot—you gotta keep going!” Kally gasped over her shoulder.

“C—can’t—” the daughter of Dionysus panted. From their stories earlier, Merry had completely depleted herself of energy. A couple hours rest wouldn’t recharge the strongest of demigods after causing a Dionysus level dance off.

“I have you,” Calex said.

Alabaster glanced back. Calex had picked Merry up, but they were already so far behind. And carrying her would only slow the Brit down.

They needed something to cover their retreat, but Alabaster wasn’t sure his concealment spells could hide all seven of them—eight if you included Jack’s grumbling head.

Beyond them, Alabaster could see five figures approaching from the side of the house.

The barometric pressure dropped.

“STOP!” Pax shrieked.

For an instant, Alabaster thought Pax or Axel had used their Mayan magic. That’s how it always felt before they did.

Instead, a flash of light blinded Alabaster ahead.

Something popped.

For an instant, Alabaster couldn’t see or hear anything. The earth rumbled under his feet—something was shifting. He, Pax, and Kally fell on the grass.

When he managed to blink the floating spheres out of his vision, he could see something had shifted the earth ahead of them. There was now a deep trench, in a semicircle, around the back of the house. Like someone had collapsed a tunnel underneath.

They were trapped.

[1] Mel Beta Note: “I’m not sure what’s stronger right now: my sense of humor or my sense of morals. I’m so emotionally confused!” However, Mel had the disclaimer that Jack exposure may cause confusion. Like a Psyduck.

[2] This is the proper name for those fancy leather skirts the Romans wore. “Skirts” just didn’t fit the right mood of the scene, though I assure you Pax was thinking of them as skirts.

#The Attrition of Peace #Traitors of Olympus #Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #fanfiction #Alabaster #Pax #Kally #Calex #Euna #Welcoming the Head of Orpheus Metal!#Weasels #Jason #Correction: pissed off Jason #A kickass silver work table

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