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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Flashback Friday || Morgan & Luis

TIMING: Distant past, in the days of yee-haw

LOCATION: The Magick Cauldron, Houston, Texas

PARTIES: @ontheluis & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Luis wanders into a magic shop looking for some herbs, Morgan spies an opportunity, and the cards know more than either of them reckon.

CONTAINS: Mellow yee-haw vibes

“Welcome, traveler, to the Magick Cauldron! Browse at your pleasure and inquire if you have any questions!” Morgan had given the scripted greeting so many times, it came out of her in full customer service cheer every time the shop door opened. She didn’t even look up from the book she had open under the cash register anymore, but flipped another page and let the customers let her know if there was something worth talking about by shouting ‘lady!’ or coming into her peripheral view.

The Magick Cauldron was the only occult shop still standing West Houston after the Y2K stress fads had died away and the first bout of shiny, corporate development had found its way into Montrose and bulldozed a crystal shop, a Greek deli, and one of the few ladies-only gay bars in favor of a mixed use building that so far only housed a nail salon and a Jamba Juice. Ralf, the fine proprietor of the Cauldron as he called himself, said that this space was protected. As the door chimed open again and Morgan made her welcome speech, bright and shiny as the plastic plate armor hanging in the kid’s section, she wondered if he was right. She never seemed to serve more than a dozen or so customers during her shifts, but the lights stayed on, day after sweltering day. If Ralf was right, it might just be the one piece of real magic in the place, not that she could say that to anyone’s face.

The warped outline of a boy rippled over the glass counter and Morgan blinked up from her book. “Is there something I can help you with, weary traveler?” She asked wryly.

“Sorry ma’am,” Luis assured, “didn’t mean to bring the stray in here,”

Evening had fallen outside, heat from the blistering still wafting off the pavement. Telephone poles and streetlights were thin black columns that stood stark against the blazing orange and wane blues of sunset.

“Go on, git!”

At the Magick Cauldron’s threshold was an enormous black dog. Even while quietly sitting on its haunches the shaggy canine was easily as tall as the teenage boy snapped at it. Pupiless red eyes regarded Luis impassively, only an ear twitch showing that the dog wasn’t just a statue.

When the black dog gave no indication of actually entering the store nor stopping its scrutiny of Luis, the young man cut his losses and regarded the woman at the counter again.

“Here,” Luis reached into a pocket of his jeans and withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothing it on the counter. The names of herbs and powders were written in someone else’s prime neat handwriting. “I uh don’t know what any of this is…,” he confessed.

Morgan took the paper carefully between her fingers, trying not to let her discomfort at how damp and sweaty it was show too much. It didn’t take much to figure out she was looking at an herbalist mixture for anxiety and sleeplessness. She looked up and the boy, and down to the list again. “We’ve got everything you need over here,” she said. She lead the boy over to the bulk aisle where the dried herbs and bottled oils were kept and alphabetized. “Did you want these bagged separate or together? Or--you probably don’t know how these work huh? We’ll do separate, so you can use any excess as you wish. But fair warning, we have a purchase minimum of one ounce for each item.” She put a small paper bag on the shelf in the middle of the display and started shovelling the herbs in. As she worked, she glanded sidelong at the kid and the dog that had decided to become instantly fond of him. Someone cared about them, to throw together this recipe, and he looked embarrassed enough for a kid his age to seem like he needed help. Would it be wrong to squeeze a few more dollars out of him if it so happened to brighten his day or give him some direction? Sure, he was scruffy, but not so much as to be desperate. He could afford a few extra bucks, right?

“Hey, you okay there?” Morgan asked him. “You seem a little lost. I’m getting some ‘needs direction’ vibes from you.” She gestured vaguely. “If you’re looking for Niko Niko’s, it’s just further down the street. You’re not supposed to leave your car here while you go over there, but I won’t tell. And if you need something a little less literal, I might be able to help you with that.” She nodded toward the oracle room at the back of the shop, with its hand painted sign hanging crooked from a nail and entryway draped with lavender beads. “I do have sliding scale rates, if it helps you make up your mind.”

The great black dog continued to watch Luis in silent stillness, the Barghest’s posture poised as if waiting for something.

“No offense ma’am but I don’t believe in…,” the teenager half-turned but caught sight of the enormous stray waiting for him in the darkening sunset. Those pupiless red eyes immediately filled Luis with a nameless dread. Cold sweat stained the back of his T-shirt as Luis’ skin went clammy despite the Texan heat. Luis couldn’t process why some random big-ass dog would wig him out so much. He wasn’t even afraid of it biting him or even the dog itself.

So why was his heart pounding in his temples?

“Yeah uh..s-seperate would be great,” Luis reaffirmed to Morgan needlessly. The labels on the tinctures and herbal selections blurred in his vision as Luis tried to get a handle on his thoughts. “Direction like, oh you mean to the interstate,” Luis replied in a misinterpretation of Morgan’s broader meaning. “I’m alright thanks, yeah merging on that triple hairpin by Foster is a pain in the ass but it's chill.”

Luis looked over to the oracle room with the dubiety of someone for whom the occult was just a vague ‘other’ mentioned at Mass or when abuela suggested a Sonora Market cure for whatever new cold was going around. He seemed about to decline again until the creeping skin-crawl of Barghest’s glare boring into his back made Luis amenable to any distraction.

“Yeah uh sure,” he said, taking a step towards the beaded shroud. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Morgan followed the boy’s eyes to the dog. He was looking pretty well fed for a stray, and his eyes--red, alert, sharp with an uncommon intelligence--made her shiver. Definitely supernatural. She didn’t know, how, or what, but it didn’t look good. “And I mean--” How to put this in just the right way? Or at least the more convincing way? “I mean your spirit, your chakras. Believe in your connection to the universe or not, but are you really going to say to my face that you know how you’re going to make your life worthwhile to yourself? That you know how to reach your greatest good?” No one did. Heck, she was a devout wiccan most days out of the year and even she didn’t know what her highest, greatest good looked like. “And if you’ve got the cash, I’ll throw in a cleansing, something to make--” she gestured at him vaguely, “Whatever negative heavy energy this is that’s stuck to you. Seriously, do you ever feel tired out of nowhere?” It was summer and the sun was exhausting; everyone got tired out of nowhere.

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but Morgan was tired of ordering off the dollar menu for dinner and she felt like she was taking her life into her own hands when she conjured money from school pens and laundry lint cotton. This kid’s money might get her a pot pie that didn’t come from the freezer, or enough tacos to last her a week, or maybe she’d blow it all on seafood, or a dress that hadn’t been worn by someone else. “I’ll ring you up first, and then we’ll see about getting the rest of you squared away.” Morgan did, and when that part of the transaction was over, she lead him into the oracle room.

In truth, the oracle room was an old storage closet with the door taken out. Morgan breezed through them and went to the antique flea market find armoire, where all the necessary items were kept. Morgan took out a small tray of tarot decks and took the one she liked best, a well loved Raider-Waite with stars on the backs and gold-gilt edges. “I’ll shuffle them myself, but you should tell me when to cut and start again and when to stop. When I’m done, you’ll spread them. You’re the one who needs to connect with the deck, after all.”

Rafael Martininez had given his son that smirking half-smile while Malia had given Luis the pale blue eyes watching Morgan shuffle cards. Sweaty light brown hair clung to his forehead beneath the Dallas Burn hat, stray strands dangling back his eyes. The lanky teenager sat awkwardly across from the cartomancer, doubting not only her veracity but that a term like destiny could even apply to someone like him.

Like many children who’re so profoundly blessed to grow up in a home of unconditional love, Luis had no idea that Rafael and Malia given him a protection rarer than talismans, weirds, or wards. Rafael had come to this country for a better life, and Malia had wanted a home that was safer then the hell she’d left. Together they’d given both dreams to their children, so Luis and his siblings would never have to go through what they had.

The freckled face that lifted to Morgan’s was innocent of hate, abuse, or fear of abandonment. Even in following a strange woman into a shrouded back room, it’d never occurred to Luis to worry about anything more sinister than carnival charlantry.

“So uh...like this ma’am,” Luis asked as he placed some cards face down on the table.

It was this very innocence in Louis that dulled the edge off Morgan’s guilt. It was wrong (if wrong was a real concept) to spoil something pure, but if she was really the worst thing that was going to happen to this kid in his teenage years, he was pretty darn lucky. At least he was getting some introspection out of the deal. Could he have gotten a tarot deck from the discount bookstore two blocks over for a quarter of what she was going to charge him, or thought everything out on his own for free? Yes. But he was also some bushy tailed high school kid; could happen wasn’t the same thing as would happen.

She’d had more instructions to give, some arbitrary waving of hands and maybe some visualization in what one of her co-workers called her ‘yoga voice’, but Louis, in his eagerness, had taken more than the requisite three cards she had planned on, wich just meant she had a ready-made excuse for the forty dollars she was going to take from him. “My, my, aren’t we eager?” She said. “What’s interesting to me already is that you have intuitively drawn out one of the more complex and energy taxing card spreads. Imperfectly, but--” She straightened them out at random until they made more of a geometric pattern. “See? I barely did anything at all. These cards must really like you. I don’t normally do something this involved, but it looks like there’s something here that wants to come out, and I’m not in the business of stifling anyone’s growth or energy.”

Morgan flipped the first card over to reveal The Fool and managed to keep her laughter light and soft. “Well, even if I hadn’t been doing this for so long, this is you, where you are right now. Don’t take the title personally, these are antiquated terms. He’s just young, and at the start of a great journey, not even begun, just on the precipice. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and the sun, see? It’s shining on him to show that the universe is aligned with his desires. The world wants you to support you, wants to see you succeed.”

The second card. The Tower. Morgan’s eyes widened. Not really vibing with the story she’d been telling, but maybe the one after… Eight of Cups. Morgan flipped over the last ones. Death and The Moon. “Hmm...Fascinating...” Morgan said, stalling for a way to spin this. “The thing about the major arcana is the magnitude of forces. Forces like destiny and fate and the collective consciousness. These forces are bigger than a ten minute fight with your friends or what you want to do after graduation, these are ‘beyond your control’. And you have four. The universe really does have plans for you, that’s kind of exciting, right?” She smiled, hoping to get some confirmation from him, or at least some more of his trust. “What does your intuition tell you about this journey, honey?”

Morgan’s performative coaxing elicited a dubious look, but the striking illustrations of the Tarot drew Luis’ attention regardless. The fool was poised with one foot over the cliff, smiling blissfully as the sun warmed his back. The tower’s blackened crenellations tumbled down the cliffside as the once indomitable edifice was battered into ruins by a storm. A haggard traveler slumped down in relief on a river bank as eight golden chalice stood resplendent over the churning rapids. Death rode on its pale horse, a scythe clutched in one skeletal hand while offering an exquisitely detailed rose. The Moon slept in the sky above a verdant shore. Wolves howled in its light while pelagic creatures breached on the lunar tide.

“Woah that art on these is something else,” admitted Luis as he squinted at the intricate illuminations, clearly sensitive to aesthetics but not the higher esoteric meaning.

Unfortunately intuition is only as good as the experiences which inform it and Luis Martinez had been sheltered from the world’s cruelty. It was a blessing to be sure, but it also made Luis unable to imagine that evil doesn’t need consent to claim you.

“My intuition is uh,” floundered the young man who had about as much affinity for divination as the average block of cedar. “The ranch’ll catch on fire, maybe a relative will die, but we’ll find like eight things that’ll make it better before the next full moon,” Luis posited.

Morgan’s stomach rumbled as the boy ogled the artwork on the cards. She was tempted to commend the kid on his ‘uncanny insight’ into the realm of the divine and take her money and run down the street for a hot stack of tacos. But the kid was so bright eyed and easily awed. She felt like she owed him at least some of her knowledge, even if she thought the tarot was psychological self-talk at best.

“Fortunately for your relatives, nothing here is quite that literal,” she said, laughing warmly. “But this journey you’re on, both within and without, is going to be perilous.” Perilous to the point of being seriously dangerous and traumatic, if this really was his subconscious sensing something on the horizon. But that wasn’t something she was going to say to his face. She wanted money without having to lie to her mother about where it came from later. “Even though your desires are upheld by the earth and stars, there will come a time when it feels as though you’ve been cast out and lost everything. But the key to staying your course is to…” What was a precious uplift-y way to spin this? “Hold fast to your sense of self. Remember the core of who you are and what you want. Because, if you do, then you will survive the upheavals, and you will be able to choose wisely what to keep, what to leave behind, and end up so strong, it’ll feel like you’ve been resurrected and leveled up into a new, better, cooler version of yourself!” She had no idea how to make sense of the moon card in a positive five star customer service rating sort of way, so she moved it underneath the spread, smiling like this had been her master plan all along.

“This card with the moon and the wolves isn’t your endgame, it’s an indicator of the vehicle, the thing that encompases the whole. All this massive change ahead of you isn’t necessarily going to be visible to everyone. It comes from within, sometimes hidden, like how you can only see the stars when it’s dark out and most of the world is asleep, and wolves howl when the world is in shadows. It’s like that. And it’s going to be amazing.”

Morgan checked her watch and slumped back in her chair as if she were exhausted. Not a hard thing to do when it was this hot out. “So, that’s gonna be forty dollars for the energy and the insight. Technically, with how many cards you pulled, it should be a little more, but I can tell you’re taking a risk on something new here and I want to honor that. But we can keep going if you have any more questions!”

“Vehicle huh...not sure dad’s gonna let me spraypaint moons and wolves on the truck,” Luis mused, perhaps taking the ‘vehicle’ thing a bit too literally or not wanting to think too hard about the possibility of his life changing.

Luis looked over the intricately illustrated cards, eyebrows wrinkling as he tried to parse through the profound chicanery Morgan had spouted. A bite of the lower lip hinted that Luis had never really encountered those who could appear to say everything while stating nothing particularly specific.

“Well shiiiii..,” the teenager breathed before glancing up at Morgan and catching himself with a small hssk of inhalation, as if some inner parental voice had scolded him about cursing in front of a lady. “That was pretty cool,” he amended, clearly at a loss before everything he’d been told, too polite to claim he didn’t believe any of it, but also too much a child of modernity to heed the weird feeling in his gut that recognized something...hit different...about this chance prophecy.

Luis grinned bashfully and unknowingly let fate’s final warning pass him by.

“Forty bucks huh, I’ll havta explain that somehow,” the young man noted with the mild consternation of someone blessed enough to just worry about a family member who’d be more peeved about gas money going to “fortuneteller” then the actual cash itself.

The bills slid across the table after some awkward wallet-riffling. “Thank you ma’am.”

Morgan snatched up the bills and shoved them down her shirt before the kid could change his mind. Whatever ominous feelings his subconscious were trying to air out was no concern for her. She had too many problems of her own to bother with anyone else’s. “It takes a long time to read the cards,” she drawled smugly. “And lots of energy, to open oneself and reach beyond the veil.” She waved her fingers as if to say tootles, and went back to fanning herself until he was gone.

She helped a lady find some yarrow and made up a policy about consultation fees to get another $10 in her pocket. She was using her agency to bridge the gap between minimum shop girl wage and living wage, working her will to get the right kind of energy flowing her way. Mostly, the energy of not-starving and not invoking the ire of darkness from using alchemy to get ahead. It didn’t line up with the rest of what she understood, neutral magic forces should be lining up to help her right her cosmic access and be less chronically miserable, but that was a problem to untangle another day.

At the end of her shift, Morgan shuffled the cards once again and lined them up on the cleansing plate the shopkeeper wanted the used decks put on. By chance, or so she told herself, she picked up the topmost card to see what was there for her. But it was just the death card, and Morgan knew the last thing that was gonna happen to her life was a hard reset. She stuck it back in the middle of the deck and slipped away into the long shadows that marked the summer evening.

#flashback friday #wr luis #wr chatzy #wr luis chatzy

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wherethewildjinsare · 7 years

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Raising Spirits

A BTS ghost AU one-shot. I wanted to have this done in time for Halloween, but life happened instead. So here it is now, nice and late! Enjoy! Word Count: 6,554

“Look, look, that one looks malleable!”

“Holy shit.”

“Don’t take the name of shit in vain, Yoongi,” Taehyung says.

“Shut up, don’t say the living look ‘malleable,’ it’s creepy enough what we’re doing right now.”

The seven boys walk down the early evening streets of Seoul, the night lights shining through and around them, making them, somehow, harder to see. If anyone could see them, that is.

“So don’t do it, just go home,” Tae rebutts.

“My need for alcohol outstrips my desire to not possess a human being. There are worse things.”

“You mean like being dead?” Jin pipes in from the front, where he has charged forward. It had been long enough and he figures he should be used to it by now, as they all should.

“Let’s just do it, the party starts in two hours and we haven’t even started pre-gaming y--” Taehyung is interrupted by Jungkook and Hobi, both of whom have rushed forward with a deafening battle cry. The other boys follow, Namjoon and Jimin the only two walking while the rest sprint to join the other two.

They all stop abruptly, surrounding you as you walk apprehensively, clutching your bag tightly, made uneasy by the late hour as you makes your way home. They circle you, inspecting as you walk..

“I don’t know, she might not actually be possessable, now that I see her up close,” Jin says, getting close to your face and walking backwards.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Tae quips. “As far as I know, anyway.”

“We could just not do this,” Namjoon says.

“Yeah, it’s not right to violate another human being like that,” Jimin agrees. “I don’t think we sh--”

Taehyung smiles before Jimin can finish, a sure sign of what’s to come. He reaches forward, about to put his hand on -- or through -- you when you shriek, causing all of them to jump back.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Holy…” Tae yelps. His face is aghast, possibly more horrified than your own face as you shiver in their midst.

“Don’t...d-don’t touch me,” you repeat, less confident now but your brows quivering with resolution.

“Alright, don’t worry, we won’t,” Namjoon says softly, approaching you now with his hands up. Jimin smiles gently behind him, the other boys stepping back to make room for the two peacemakers. He stops within a few feet as you begin to backup.

“You can see us?” he asks.

You nod.

“Why’d you pretend you couldn’t see us then,” Tae says, accusingly. “It’s kinda rude not to respond when people call to you.”

“Yeah, we just want to possess you, that’s not rude at all,” Yoongi mutters to himself. Tae definitely hears but ignores him.

“But really, how can you see us?” Jin brings it back to focus.

“I can...see ghosts,” you say, still hiding behind your bag. “I ignored you because I don’t like to acknowledge the dead. Dead people are needy and I’m one person. It’s dangerous for the living, even when they can’t see ghosts. If you know I can see and hear you, you just take advantage.”

“Well that’s not very fair, you don’t even know us!” J-Hope may be offended. It’s hard to tell.

You're still shivering, partly because of the chill and partly because, well,you’re surrounded by seven ghosts. Not an especially comforting event when you’re trying to get home from work.

“Leave me alone,” you say, louder and stronger. “Now.”

“But don’t you see?” Tae’s smile erupts on his face. “This is perfect! We don’t have to possess anyone, she can just help us. That’ll satisfy even you Namjoon.”

“It’s true, it’s a win-win,” Yoongi nods, eyeing the flickering lights of a noodle shop nearby.

“N-no, you’re wrong,” you interrupt. “It’s a l-lose for me, I want to go home by myself and watch TV and go to sleep in peace.”

“That’s hardly living,” J-Hope laughs. “Believe me, we would know.”

“Leave me alone.” You start to walk away.

“Look, you help us and we’ll be out of your hair in 15 minutes,” Yoongi reasons. “Plus, if you don’t help us, we’ll just possess someone. You’re just gonna let us walk around doing that?”

You stop, hug your bag tighter as you think. And you sigh.

“Alright,” you groan. “Come on, I...I know a good place.”

You walk to the left, and the boys practically skip after you. Tae is almost floating. In fact, for a few seconds, he does float.

“Good place?” he quizzes. “Like really good alcohol?”

You hesitate and nod, but you don’t pause or slow your pace.

“Oooh yess,” he rubs his hands together.

The boys jump around you as you trudge through the narrow roadways. You turn left, right, right, straight for aways, then left and, finally, you stop right in front of a low-set, one-story building between a liquor store and a deli.

A wooden wind chime clanks against the yellow bricks of the wall, and you open the peeling black painted door, which jingles lightly. You close the door behind you, right in Jin’s face.

“Rude,” he says.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at him and goes through the door, the others following suit. On the other side, their ghostly senses are struck with the smell of something burning.

“Ugh, that smells awful,” Jungkook covers his nose.

“Incense,” Namjoon mutters. He looks around, takes in the red walls, the emblems and charms on the walls, the black curtains over the window which is just barely cracked open. THe incense is overpowering.

“What’s the matter?” you ask. “The alcohol is right through here.” You gesture toward a long black curtain covering a doorway on the far end of the room.

“It’s the incense,” Tae coughs.

“It smells good to me,” you shrug.

The curtain flutters and shifts. A footstep sounds.

“Guys, run,” Namjoon says, his voice deep and trembling. “Now!”

The curtain flies back as the boys respond to their leader. A young woman in satin white with large, ornate hair flies into the room, the sound of the bells on her belt accompanying her entrance.

“Holy shit, a shaman!” Tae screams, running at the door. But instead of going through it, he hits it with a resounding bang and falls back.

“What the hell!” J-Hope shrieks. He claws at the door, Jungkook and a recovered Tae joining him. Jimin grabs Tae by the shoulder and points to a card on the wall decorated in foreign symbols painted in red ink.

“No use,” he says, shaking his head.

“The window, c’mon,” Namjoon yells, and the boys follow him, becoming wisps and flying through the cracked open window.

The shaman starts.

“Dammit, are they gone?” I can feel it, they’re gone, right? The whole lot of em?”

You nod, relaxing your shoulders and letting your bag down gently to the floor at your feet.

“It’s okay Jacinda, thanks for scaring them off.”

“Damn, seven at once would have made me famous, man.” Jacinda flings her arms backwards, whooshing her long oversized sleeves out of the way, and plops down on a floor pillow at the low table in the middle of the room.

“Want some tea, y/n?” It’s really more of a statement than a question. You nod, again, and ease yourself to the pillow across from Jacinda, letting out a weak sigh as the weight of the day sinks into the plush of the cushion.

“You’ve got to learn to be more forceful with loser ghosts,” Jacinda lectures. “I thought you were ignoring them?”

“I was,” you say. “But it’s...hard sometimes.”

“Then you gotta get more assertive.”

“They were going to possess me, or someone else if not me.”

Jacinda blinks.

“Seriously?” She stands forcefully, all thoughts of tea forgotten. “You should have told me earlier, son of a bitch.”

“Can we just…”

“No!” Jacinda wheels on you. “Now they’re free to go off and possess someone else! Some ignorant sap who doesn’t know what’s about to happen to them. I’ve gotta get those punks under control, exorcise them or whatever. Come, or don’t.” She grabs a paper fan from the shelf on the wall and runs out the door, her bells the last thing you hear before the door slams shut.

You groan. All you wanted to do was go home and relax in bed. Afterall, tomorrow you’d be on edge once the sun goes down, either waiting for the next trick-or-treater from the building to knock on your door or for some drunken ghosts to bother you. Or worse, a non-drunk ghost who just wants to cause you trouble. Most night of the year it’s bearable, but on Halloween the dead get especially lively, sometimes coming to your room at night. Last year, the man without a face…

You shake your head, getting the image out of your head. You stand, grab your back, and leave.

There is no sign of Jacinda outside, neither by sight nor sound (no bells tinkling or battle cry shrieks). Might as well go home, you think, pretending you’re not tickled pink by this idea.

But just as you’re about to take a step, something stops you.

“That was a dirty trick,” a voice from somewhere above sounds. You look up and groan for the hundredth time that night upon sighting the seven heads peeping down at you from the building’s roof.

“Just leave me alone,” you say, remembering Jacinda’s words. “And don’t possess anyone, don’t even try or...or I’ll...or else.”

“We have a deal,” Suga states.

“We do? Really? You’ll leave me alone?” You can’t believe that worked.

“Yeah...wait, no, we made a deal earlier, you said you would help us and we said, after that, we’d leave you alone.”

“Yeah, do you not like us or something?” Jin speaks now. “I mean, I know at least one of us is gorgeous, the others aren’t bad to look at, so what’s the problem.”

“The problem is, I want to go home, and you’re dead.”

Silence comes from the roof, and you have the sneaking suspicion you hit a nerve.

“Wow, no need to get so personal, we know we’re dead,” J-Hope says.

“Truth is,” Namjoon says, floating down from the roof to meet you on the ground, “sometimes it’s, pardon the phrase, hard to live with the fact that we’re dead. You can see the world of warmth you used to be a part of but you’re separate from it. Parties like the one tonight, they help us forget. It’s less about the liquor and more about, I don’t know, trying to feel alive again, warm, purposeful, not hopeless. Like we are dead for something, not just eternal separation. And please don’t feel bad or anything, it’s just the way it is. It’s not your fault. We’re sorry, we’ll leave you alone if you really want, we just thought you really could help us find what we’re looking for.”

The other six boys float down to join Namjoon on the sidewalk. Tae and Jungkook do their best impression of a wounded puppy while Jimin looks on apologetically and J-Hope smiles hopefully.

Your gaze softens.

“Fine, let’s go, for real this time.”

“Yes!” Tae’s sad looks immediately go away as he bounces around you, and J-Hope goes to hug you before remembering he can’t, so instead he joins Tae in jumping around.

“Let’s go, before I lose my entire evening,” you mutter.

You’re about to set off when Jimin halts everyone.

“Wait,” he whispers, sending shivers up and down your spine. He points to the alley a few yards away, between the building housing the shaman’s office and the one next to it. THis alley is not is not like the others. This alley emanates thick, still darkness. Like the alley has simply never been there, or anything else. Just a black space where an alley should have been.

“What is…” you breathe. But then you see him, there in the darker than dark. The man without a face. Your throat seizes and you clutch your bag as you back up slowly, passing right through Jin’s chest until you’re on the other side of him.

“Woah, what…” he begins. He looks where you’re staring. “Oh this guy. What a killjoy.”

“Some people can’t take a hint,” Yoongi says to the group. He turns and walks past you and down the street, not looking back at the shadow man. You turn and flow Yoongi with short, quick steps straight away, the others following soon after.

“He’ll come after us, won’t he?” You bite your lip, looking at Yoongi nervously.

“He’s been following us for a while,” he says. “Since last year, I think.”

“What does he want,” you ask, thinking of your encounter last year. All night, in the darkest shadows of the far corner of the bedroom by the door.

He shrugs. “We just don’t go in the shadows. And we avoid the dark parts, even when we don’t see him, just in case.”

You stop asking questions but turn around to look. THe deep dark slowly fades as you walk away, turning to the normal shadow of an alley as you turn the corner.

“Now don’t talk to me for a bit,” you say. “We’re getting into an area with people.”

“We’re not idiots,” Tae says.

“Not always,” Jin adds.

They do, in fact, shut up when the people come into view in the more populated downtown area. It isn’t too crowded for a Halloween eve night, but soon you begin to notice people who are a bit off amongst the regular residents. They are the ones who look at you, walk a little slower against the flow in either direction.

They’re out full force tonight, you think. You try to keep you gaze on the ground as you walk, tripping over your feet and almost bumping into someone.

“Sorry,” you mutter, but as you look up at them, you catch their eye. It’s not a living person.

Shit, you think. You rip your eyes away, casting them back onto the ground but it’s too late. You hear a raspy breath as the dead draws nearer.

“You can see me. You can hear me,” she says. “Tell my son he needs to get married, please, to make me happy. I’m so worried about him. Can you please just do this one thing, please. And my daughter, please. In America. Please, the phone number.”

You walk faster, biting your lip.

“Please, I died, there was so much blood, look.”

You breathe heavily as sweat prickles at your neck and temples. You don’t want to look. You don’t want to see.

“Beat it, would you? We’re busy.”

A deep voice, Yoongi’s, breaks through the agony.

“So many party poopers out tonight,” Jin says from next to you. He has come up beside you, between you and the woman.

“But please…”

“Go bother someone else, seriously, she doesn’t want to hear it,” J-Hope offers now, on her other side. Jungkook is now in front of you, walking just ahead. The rest of the boys form up behind you, effectively blocking the woman, and any other ghosts for that matter, from getting too close.

The boys whoop and yell, making jokes and laughing. They are breaking their promise of silence but they are also keeping all the other ghosts from bothering you. Your heart feels light, a nice change, but you refuse to let the smile tempting your mouth to break free. They’re still a nuisance, being ghosts themselves. Despite that, it seems like just seconds before you reach your destination: the liquor store.

It has the best selection in the area, or that’s been your experience anyway. You open the door and walk into the large store. The wine is on one side and the spirits and beers are on the other.

“So...what exactly am I looking for?” you whisper, not willing to look crazy in front of the people milling about.

“Take out your cell phone and pretend you’re talking to someone,” Namjoon says. “You won’t have to worry about talking to us that way.”

You follow his instructions, removing the phone from your back pocket and putting it up to your ear as you wander further inside, the boys following closely.

“What do you want?”

“See, we don’t want any regular alcohol,” Tae says. “The very best, our absolute favorite…”

“Your absolute favorite,” Jimin corrects.

“Our absolute favorite, Pincer Vodka.”

“Pincer Vodka,” you say, your jaw dropping. “That’s like 88 percent alcohol!”

“Exactly,” Tae says. “When you’re alive, it gets you drunk, gives you a hangover, all that stuff, and it’s so bad for your liver...kidneys...liver?”

“Both, continue,” Yoongi offers.

“Yeah, but when you’re dead, you just get to enjoy the burn, like your breathing fire air, it’s awesome. No consequences.”

You try to forget that Pincer Vodka was the same vodka that you got horribly sick on once and never touched vodka again after that. You even threw up in a cup to keep from getting it on the floor. Someone at the party called it the classiest thing they’d ever seen. That made you feel better at the time, though you’re now not sure if it should have.

“Okay, I guess we’re looking for Pincer Vodka,” you wince.

The boys scatter in all directions. Taehyung looks over a woman’s shoulder and reads the label of the wine bottle she’s holding. Jin sticks his head through the fridge door. Yoongi and Jungkook emerge from the back room empty handed, and Jimin, J-Hope and Namjoon search the shelves themselves. You decide to do the only thing they can’t and approach the bearded man at the register.

“Excuse me,” you say quietly. He doesn’t notice you. “Excuse me,” you say louder.

He looks up from his phone.

“Oh, sorry,” he mutters, not really very sorry about anything in particular. “Can I help you?”

“Do you have, uh, the Pincer Vodka?”

“Pincer?” He repeats. “Pincer, that name. Heard that a lot tonight. Is there some crazy party going on I don’t know about? What?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, so you settle for a shrug.

“We don’t have it,” he finally says. “Been sold out since yesterday.”

“Oh.” Well that figures. “Do you know anywhere that might have it?”

“If everyone else is looking for it, then no one in this town is going to have Pincer Vodka. Crazy. You know that stuff is 88 percent alcohol? You’re not that big of a person, I hope you’re not planning on drinking that alone.”

“Oh, no no, it’s not…”

Taehyung breathes on your neck at that moment. You squeak.

“You alright?” the man at the register asks, looking at you suspiciously.

“Yes, sorry, thank you.”

You wheel around and skitter out of the liquor store.

“Taehyung,” you say. It was originally meant to be a yell but you couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice that high. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He has, of course, floated through the doors after you, along with Namjoon, Jimin and Jin.

“Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. “What’d he say?”

“He says they’re out. And he says that most places here will probably be out. You’re not the only ones trying to get it, I guess.”

“Told you we should have gotten some like a week ago!” Tae yells at Jungkook, who joined them at some point. He shrugs. Yoongi and J-Hope wander out a second later.

“We might as well try a few more places,” Namjoon says. “No harm in trying. Worse comes to worse, we go without. Come on.”

Tae and J-Hope moan but follow the leader as they turn down the street.

The evening has become a blur of tired eyes and sore feet for you. Seven visits to seven liquor stores and even a corner deli have proven fruitless. The Pincer seems out of reach.

“Can’t you drink something else?” you moan finally, sinking down onto a deserted step on the stoop of an old apartment building.

“No!” Tae cries. Half the group moans. “There’s no point if it’s not Pincer.”

“Look, just because you never got to have it when you were alive…” Yoongi starts.

“You’re wrong!”

Everyone looks at him.

“I did drink it when I was alive,” he starts. The youthful optimism he’s shown all night is gone, replaced by anger. “It was the last thing I ever drank. Pincer killed me.”

“Damnit, that’s the stupidest thing I ever…” Yoongi is cut off by J-Hope.

“Oh shit, I remember now,” he says. “Damnit, Tae! We all had Pincer that night. It wasn’t just you!”

“But you weren’t the one driving the car!” He’s crying now. “It’s my fault we’re like this!”

You feel like you’re listening to something you shouldn’t be hearing and didn’t want to hear.

Namjoon approaches Tae. “You’ve felt like this all this time?”

He nods, wiping his eye with his sleeve.

“Tae, we all drank that night, we were all being irresponsible. We were distracting you when you were already trying to drive like that. And you weren’t even going to drink. You were pressured into it. It’s all of our faults, and we all share the blame, even if some of us forgot…”

“I didn’t remember at first, but I remembered with the anniversary.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jin added.

“It’s the past,” Namjoon says. “It was stupid, and it cost us, but we’re together, even if it’s like this. We take responsibility, and we hope others learn.”

“But my mom, my dad,” Tae whimpers.

“They have to move on too. Just like us.”

Suddenly, this mission makes more sense to you.

“So,” you breathe, feeling awkward about interrupting the scene. “The Pincer isn’t just about drinking Pincer, right? It’s about facing the thing that you associate with...well...you know.”

Tae nods again, and Tae pats his shoulder.

“Alright,” you say, standing and dusting off your knees. “Let’s go. There’s one more place we can try.”

“Alright!” J-Hope croons. He runs up and grabs Taehyung around the neck. Tae is soon in much better spirits, and the group follows you as you lead them to a dingy corner store about six blocks away. As you approach, you’re dismayed to see the “closed” sign in the window with “permanently” written sloppily in black sharpie underneath.

“I’m, uh, sorry guys, it looks like…”

“Closed!” Tae runs to the store’s gritty window. Jungkook does one better and passes right through the door.

“I’ll help him look,” Jin offers, rushing off after him.

“I doubt they’ll find anything in there,” you say, pressing your face against the window.. “I’m not sure how long they’ve been closed, but unless they left everything in the back rooms, there’s nothing left, looks like.”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon says. “We appreciate the effort.”

You smile, and he smiles back.

“You guys aren’t so bad, I guess,” you say quietly.

“Ha!” J-Hope yells. “You heard that, boys. We’re not so bad.”

“We already knew that,” Yoongi deadpans, though Tae seems just as thrilled as J-Hope. The two clap their arms over each other’s shoulders and swing around.

“So what now?” you ask. You feel a little sadness make its way into the pit of your stomach.

Jungkook and Jin re-emerge empty-handed.

“Well, we…”

Namjoon is cut off abruptly by a shrill battle cry as Jacinda, eyes on fire and white dress slightly dirty, hurls herself out of the adjacent alleyway at the group.

“I know they’re here!” she cries. “Just try to get away now.”

“Don’t mind if we do,” J-Hope says, propelling his body down the street, back where they’d come. But he doesn’t move. “Wait, what?”

He pulls against his feet, but they’re rooted to the spot. The other boys are equally unsuccessful in their attempts to move from where they stand.

“What gives!” Jungkook cries, wrapping his hands around his right ankle and pulling.

Jacinda holds up a regular-looking playing card. Except this one has a poorly formed circle with three lines through it drawn in red paint, possibly marker.

“I’m always prepared,” she drawls.

“Except for the last time,” you mutter. Jacinda takes off her house slipper and throws it at you. It lands harmlessly by your leg.

“Now, all I have to do is…”

“It’s okay, Jacinda, I overreacted, we’re fine,” you say. “Thank you, but it’s okay, we’re just…”

“They possessed you didn’t they?” she gasps. “No Y/N! I’ll avenge you! Get out of her body!”

Jacinda opens the fan she took from her office earlier and opens it. It looks harmless to you, but Namjoon curses under his breath.

“That’s right, this fan will blow you all to the four corners of the earth. Ghosts without roots...aka all ghosts...float far with the wind!” Jacinda is about to take a step forward when a darkness takes over the area. You didn’t notice before, but you think it must have been creeping into the area this whole time, and now it has suddenly overtaken the deserted and narrow street.

“Oh, shit, now?” J-Hope moans.

“He has the worst timing,” Namjoon says. “Leave us alone, come on.”

You realize immediately who, or what, they mean. Sure enough, the man without a face creeps out of the alley that Jacinda just attacked them from. He looms over Jacinda, who is frozen in horror as she looks up at the empty space where his face should be. Faceless lifts his arm, and the fan goes flying. Jacinda lets loose a scream and runs for her life, down the street and out of sight.

You can't move. The man with no face is here. You'd dreaded the night because of him, and now here he is once again. And you can't move. He doesn't take notice of you as he floats toward Jungkook, the closest of the boys. For the first time that evening, your companions look scared.

In that moment, your fear turns to anger. You’re tired. So tired you can’t stand it. Physically, yes, of course you’re tired, but this is different. You’re tired in your mind, tired of feeling pushed around by beings that can’t even touch you. Tired of being scared. Tired of feeling at odds with the world just because you can see more of it than other people. Tired of feeling separate. So tired and sick of it that you find yourself standing up, picking up the shoe Jacinda had thrown at you and lobbing it as hard as you can in the general direction of the man without a face with a loud “hey!” The shoe goes right through his dark space for a face.

“Leave us alone!” you cry. The man stops his advance toward Jungkook and turns in your direction. You pay no attention to the stab of fear that digs into the back of your mind.

“And don’t bother me tomorrow, you hear? I don’t need a weirdo without a face hanging out in my room, scaring me half to death and keeping me from sleep. You jerks, you’re all the same. Just because you’re having a bad time doesn’t mean you can make my life hard, I’m a person! I deserve peace and privacy. Just because I can see you doesn’t mean I want to be your friend and doesn’t mean I have to help any dead person with a sob story or any living person with a guilty conscience! And that goes for you guys too!” You turn on the boys who do their best attempt at innocent expressions. “So from now on, give me some space, let me breathe! I’m tired of being used by everyone, alive or not!”

You’re done, you think. You sit back down and breathe heavily. Wow, when was the last time you yelled like that? Your throat kind of hurts a little, but you feel good, like a huge weight has been lifted, at least momentarily.

The man without a face steps forward, bringing your attention back to the stab of fear in the back of your brain, and you stiffen along with your companions. The man reaches up, and you brace for the worst. Instead of doing...whatever it is you thought he was going to do...he pulls down a dark scarf that had been covering his face underneath the hat on his head. Under the scarf is a round face with close-set eyes. A completely harmless looking person...albeit a dead one.

“I know I’m a little awkward, but weirdo is a little harsh,” he says sadly. “And I can’t feel anything but I still have feelings, the shoe was unnecessary.”

You blink. The boys blink. “W-what?” you mumble.

“I just...want someone to hang out with,” he says. “You guys have a great group thing going on,” he adds, gesturing to the boys, who still can’t move. “I’ve never seen that in ghosts before and you seem halfway happy. So cool. I wanted to be a part of that.”

“Dude, why the shadow act,” Jungkook says from his spot.

He shrugs. “Shy, I guess.” He turns to you again. “Sorry for last Halloween, I was feeling bad and was drawn to your apartment. Just lonely, sorry.”

You shrug and walk behind him, picking up Jacinda’s shoe and putting it in your pocket.

“Oh.” He reaches under his dark coat and brings out two bottles of something clear. “I’ve been wanting to you. I got them earlier this year and I heard you were looking for it. I was hoping you’d let me hang out with you if I brought them but...here.” He holds out one of the bottles to no one in particular. Tae tries to move forward but is rooted to the spot. So you take the bottle of Pincer vodka from him instead.

“Thank you,” Tae says, clearly touched. “What’s your name?”

“Bang Si-hyuk. Sorry about the face thing, I’m just always cold.”

At that moment, you spot the charm Jacinda had flashed at them earlier on the ground. You walk over and pick it up, turning the card around between your fingers before you tear it right in two. You let the pieces fall back to the ground, and the boys all groan and stretch. J-Hope jogs in a circle.

“So good to move again!” he shouts on the third lap.

Tae is busy trying to get the bottle of vodka open.

“How are you picking that up, by the way,” you ask.

“We can hold stuff, it’s just selective, takes concentration,” Namjoon says, approaching Tae to help. He waves the leader off and goes back to his attempts. Finally, he unscrews the top and holds it up to his nostrils.

“Wow, it’s so strong I can smell it with my afterlife nostrils,” he breathes. You wrinkles your nose at the phrase “afterlife nostrils” but watch as he takes a sip.

“Ah, that’s...that’s amazing,” he says. “It’s like, wow. I can’t describe it.”

He passes it around to everyone, including Si-hyuk. To your surprise, Tae brings it to you last of all.

“Oh no, that’s okay.”

“Please? You helped us so much tonight and we really had so much fun with you. You’re one of us.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you sigh. You don’t know how tonight would qualify as fun, but you take the bottle and bring it to your mouth, letting the liquid fire coat your throat and make its way down. You cough, handing the bottle back to Tae, who’s got the widest, rectangle smile on his face.

“That’s the first vodka I’ve had in a long time,” you splutter.

“Yeah? Good, eh?” Jin laughs. “You like it, I can tell.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” You pull a bottle of water out of your backpack and take three large mouthfuls while the boys continue to chug the vodka like its soda.

“Y/N, you have to come with us,” Tae says.

“Where?”

“To the party!” The other boys agree, murmuring their approval. Si-hyuk agrees too before he remembers he’s not officially a part of the group.

“You too,” Jimin says, smiling at the newcomer. Yoongi rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree.

“But I…” you start to protest. Their eager faces sway you. “Fine, just for a minute, but then I’m going home.”

“Deal!” Tae yells, practically dancing as he leads the way.

Your group pauses outside a closed mall. It’s scheduled for demolition next week, according to the large construction sign on the gate around the abandoned parking lot. The fence itself the boys completely ignore as they pass through it. Tae and Namjoon double back and focus their joint efforts on the gate. They manage to get the lock off together, though you’re not entirely sure how. You enter through the newly made opening. The door to the mall itself is already standing open, inviting you into the large, dark atrium. The lights to the Forever21 sign across the way from the entrance are the only ones on, guiding you to what you’re sure is the weirdest Halloween party you’ll ever attend. The boys run ahead with whoops and yells. Si-hyuk tries to blend in, running after them. But he gets winded halfway there and settles for walking and pumping his fist in the air. Tae and Jungkook come back and walk him to the door, their arms around his shoulder.

You’re the last to enter the Forever21. “Wow,” you say to yourself as you survey the area. The store is humming with conversation from all corners of the two-story space. Floating blue lights line the balcony separating the first floor from the second, and a few ghostly groups are floating as well, having discussions in the air. It’s just common sense, considering the floor space itself is so crowded. It’s the liveliest bunch of dead people you’ve ever seen. You spot the two empty bottles of Pincer in the trashcan near the door. Their previous owners are running around the room, followed by Si-hyuk, who keeps passing through other ghosts and apologizing for his rudeness as he struggles to keep up.

Up on the second floor you hear a bumping bass, and you realize there’s a concert going on up there. There are musicians in the afterlife? The boys are making their way up the stairs, and you figure they’ll be occupied with whatever group is playing for a good while. This is your chance to make your escape, and you take it. As you pass through the chain-link fence, you look back at the mall and feel a pang of something. Maybe you’ll miss them a little.

At long last, you climb the last stair to your apartment door and press the door-code. The lock beeps happily and you gratefully find yourself through the door and in your tiny entryway.

“Jacinda, I’m home,” you call out, sliding off your shoes and setting your bag down by the small hall table by the bathroom.

“Ugh, what a night, I’m so angry,” Jacinda moans, coming out from the back hall where the bedrooms are. “Those punks. And that guy! Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, walking up toward the couch and plopping yourself down. You sink into the cushions and sigh contentedly. “You could see him?”

“I just saw a bunch of darkness and a figure, but not the details,” she said. “He didn’t...follow you here did he?”

“Nope, he ended up being okay.”

“Good, cuz I definitely would have struck the fear of me in him if he had just tried to do it,” she said.

“Nice recovery. I’m sure you would.”

“Don’t mock me. I’m going in my room and I’m not coming out unless there’s a fire. I have some shows to catch up on.”

“Oh,” you say, reaching into your jacket pocket. “Here.”

“My shoe! Bless your soul, oh, I missed you.” Jacinda sweeps up the slipper in her hands and tenderly coddles it as she walks back to her bedroom, muttering encouragements to the footwear the whole way.

You hear the door shut and sigh again. She was right about one thing. It had been quite a night. You feel sad in a way that it’s over. You felt more comfortable than you remember feeling in a long time with them. They were so carefree for ghosts, not always complaining, not making you feel bad for being alive. In fact, there were times you forgot they were dead themselves. You chuckle and turn on the TV, but before you know it, you’ve drifted off in a light sleep.

“Ouch, idiot.”

“How can you feel pain, you’re a freaking ghost.”

“Doesn’t matter, I can tell that would’ve hurt, jerk.”

Yoongi? Tae? You open your eyes to a dark room, the TV still on, but the sound muted. As your eyes adjust, you see a group of people in the entryway of your home. Seven people.

“What the…” You sit upright, rubbing the drool from your chin.

“Don’t worry, it’s just us,” Jin says.

“Don’t worry, but...what are you guys doing here?”

“We missed you,” Tae said, bounding over to you on the couch and sitting down next to you.

“Missed me, I don’t...what happened to the party?” “It was, oh man, it was awesome,” Tae leans back and opens his arms wide, collapsing against the couch and letting his arms swing down onto the back of it. You wonder if he’s really sitting on the couch or is floating just above it. Can ghosts sit?

“Yeah, it was sweet, Jimin and I got our dance on for the first time in forever,” J-Hope says, demonstrating his moves on your living room carpet. Jimin laughs in embarrassment and covers his face.

“But we got tired of that place and wanted somewhere else to go and couldn’t find you, so we just kept talking about you and then decided to try and find you,” Tae continued.

“How’d you find me? And where’s Si-hyuk?”

“Oh he’s fine, he had such a good time. He found a group to hang with,” Namjoon offers. “Jeong Wook, Min-Suk, other people I can’t remember the names of. More his age, frankly. We’ll see him around, I’m sure.”

“Found you pretty easily. You give off a feel,” Yoongi says.

You know.

“If we didn’t know who you were we might not have been able to find you, but we spent enough time with you to kinda get a sense for where the source of that vibe was, if that makes sense,” Namjoon adds.

“I guess.” You lean back in the couch. “So what now, you’re just going to haunt me for the rest of my life?”

“No, of course not,” Jin says.

“That’d be pretty rude,” Jimin adds.

“We just wanted to...I don’t know...hang out every now and again?” Tae goes awkward for the first time that night. “Maybe crash here tonight or a few days or…We’d leave whenever you want, we just…”

“We missed you,” Jungkook offers, helping him finish.

“Yeah,” Tae shouts brightly. “So how ‘bout it?”

You look from face to face, and you smile. It wouldn’t be so bad for a little bit.

“Sure,” you say. “Just try not to get in my roommate’s way.”

Hey look, you got to the end! Thanks for that. Hope you enjoyed this super fluffy piece about death. Slightly experimental for me. Let me know what you thought in the comments or shoot me a message! I like hearing from you guys.

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johnboothus · 4 years

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VinePair Happy Hour: What Are You Drinking on Thanksgiving and Where Will You Buy It?

Thanksgiving 2020 will certainly be different than years prior. Many of us won’t be going home for the holidays, while others will be lining up for Covid-19 tests . A few of us may be celebrating “friendsgiving” with our pods, and the bravest among us will go virtual this year.

But no matter where we are or who we’re with — whether we’re eating Mom’s roast turkey or turkey sandwiches from the corner deli — great drinks are sure to be part of the festivities, especially for the VinePair team.

From family favorites to special-occasion bottles, here’s what the VinePair team will be sipping on Turkey Day.

“When it comes to Thanksgiving, I really love Gamay, that grape made famous by Beaujolais. You may have had it before in Beaujolais Nouveau (the fresh, first pressing of newly harvested Gamay that’s become sort of a gimmick during this holiday), but that is not what I am advocating bringing to the Thanksgiving table. I’m talking about bringing Cru Beaujolais, the complex, interesting wine made from the grape that pairs perfectly with Thanksgiving fare and won’t break the bank. And because it’s an American holiday, I’m not just going to bring a bottle of French Cru Beaujolais, but an American version of the wine as well, because I find it’s always fun to compare wines at a dinner like this. For the Cru Bojo, I love Chignard Juliénas ‘Beauvernay’ 2017. It’s a great example of Cru Beaujolais at only about $25 a bottle. I’ll grab a couple of bottles of it from Astor Wines; a few I’ll open and a few I’ll save for later. Cru Bojo ages really nicely if you’re into that sort of thing. Normally I’d buy the American version I plan to bring, Evening Land ‘Seven Springs Vineyard’ Gamay Noir 2018, from Astor, too, but it’s currently sold out. So I’ll place that order through Wine.com. Evening Lands is a project of celebrity somm Rajat Parr and winemaker Sashi Moorman, and this Gamay they make in Oregon is absolutely delicious, crushable, and perfect for the holiday.” —Adam Teeter, co-founder and CEO

“This Thanksgiving, I plan on drinking a 2010 Monteviejo Lindaflor La Violeta Malbec. It’s a bottle I’ve been holding onto for a special occasion for a few reasons: I first became interested in wine when I was living in Argentina, and I received this as a gift a few years ago just after I moved to New York. Now feels like the perfect time to open it — and Malbec is so food-friendly, it promises to pair well with all the flavors on the Thanksgiving table.” —Tim McKirdy, staff writer

“On Thanksgiving, I usually bust out a few special bottles … of beer, of course! Although I’m not sure they’ll make it out of my apartment this year, I have two picked out: For dinner, I’m looking at a 2019 bottle of 3 Fonteinen Oude Kriek, an extremely special sour cherry lambic from Belgium (from a town called Beersel; can’t make this stuff up). For dessert, I have a Goose Island Bourbon County Stout from 2019, Cafe de Olla. It’s aged in bourbon barrels with cold-brew coffee, cassia bark (cinnamon), and orange peel. The base beer is rich and chocolatey, and it’s almost 14 percent ABV. At first, I figured it’d be my best bet for warming up while standing six feet away from my parents’ house, but if Covid foils our plans, it’ll pair really well with watching my husband play the new ‘Assassin’s Creed,’ too. And oddly enough, we bought both bottles at Wegmans!” —Cat Wolinski, associate editor

“I don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving, but I finally got to celebrate with my friends last year. Whenever I think of Thanksgiving, I always picture wine. It just feels right, and how I always imagine what an American Thanksgiving looks like. This year, I’ll be bringing the Catena Zapata Malbec Argentino 2017 from the Catena Zapata winery. I’ve been holding on to this for a special occasion, and I think Thanksgiving would be the perfect occasion for this wine.” —Gerry Selian, junior designer

“I’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving with my brother and his fiancée this year, so I have a feeling we’ll be drinking Pinot Noir from their favorite vineyard, Gundlach Bundschu in Sonoma.” —Katie Brown, editorial associate

“Being Canadian, I celebrated Thanksgiving last month and drank a Syrah from the southern part of the Okanagan Valley. This one from C.C. Jentsch was incredibly versatile with brambly blueberry, dark cherry, and plum flavors. The richness and complexity was perfectly comforting in these strange times.” —Nicole McKay, editorial intern

“My family and I go through a lot of wine during holidays, so my approach is always versatile wines that are crowd-pleasers and reasonably priced enough to buy a few bottles. This Antonio E Raimondo Barbera is my top wine of the year — it’s an absolute banger at $12, and will be poured en masse at Thanksgiving. It’s vibrant and refreshing with a slight chill, but fantastic and juicy at room temp when space in the refrigerator is nonexistent. I get it locally from Wi(not) in Brooklyn.” —Jeff Licciardello, director of marketing

“This Thanksgiving, we’ll kick things off with French 75s made with Tanqueray 10 to get us in the festive mood. When the food is ready, we’ll be opening The Discussion from Duckhorn to accompany the conversation around the table. We’ll wrap things up with a glass of our favorite dessert wine, Royal Tokaji. It reminds us of spending New Years in Hungary … you know, back when traveling was a thing.” —Jason Russell, senior director of brand partnerships

“My family treats Thanksgiving as an ‘open-that-bottle’ type of night (the bottles you are ‘saving’ for a special occasion but haven’t gotten around to enjoying yet). This year, I’ll be contributing with this bottle of Xinomavro from Naoussa, Greece. It will be a unique add to the table for my family, and the notes and aromas are sure to be a real treat!” —Jenny Riddell, director of brand partnerships & events

“On Thanksgiving, I’m going to drink this Syrah from Frenchtown Farms. Awesome organic producer, and I love a bold red unfiltered/unfined. Picking it up from Starr Wines.” —Emma Cranston, editorial intern

“It’s just a few of us gathering, so we’re opening bottles from a trip to Napa and Sonoma we took together and to celebrate a time when we could travel. In the spirit of the holiday, we will specifically be giving thanks to all of the firefighters and first responders in the region for their bravery and keeping these national treasures safe. We’ll be drinking what we picked up directly from the vineyards: a Blanc de Blancs from J Vineyards and a 2015 Clos du Val Estate Pinot Noir from Carneros, Napa Valley.” —Liz Cronin, VP of brand partnerships

“My family has this really weird tradition of making Piña Coladas on Thanksgiving. I grew up with huge gatherings, so obviously this year will be a bit different, and we won’t need to break out a punch bowl. I’ll likely end up buying a pre-made Piña Colada mix at the supermarket, but for the liquor — probably Cruzan Aged Light Rum.” —Danielle Grinberg, art director

The article VinePair Happy Hour: What Are You Drinking on Thanksgiving and Where Will You Buy It? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-happy-hour-thanksgiving-drinks/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/vinepair-happy-hour-what-are-you-drinking-on-thanksgiving-and-where-will-you-buy-it

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

Text

VinePair Happy Hour: What Are You Drinking on Thanksgiving and Where Will You Buy It?

From family favorites to special-occasion bottles, here’s what the VinePair team will be sipping on Turkey Day.

The article VinePair Happy Hour: What Are You Drinking on Thanksgiving and Where Will You Buy It? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-happy-hour-thanksgiving-drinks/

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 7 years

Text

A Wondrous Adventure (2/4)

OUaT/Captain Swan

S6 canon divergence

6000 words

Swearing and implied sex

AO3 / Ch 1 on Tumblr

Author’s Note: This is my attempt to make 6b what I wanted it to be – a celebration of my favorite in-show couple. The divergence began in “Murder Most Foul”. This chapter continues to follow Emma and Killian, who reach Agrabah and continue trying to get home.

Props to @ripplestitchskein for zippy beta-reading. :)

Aladdin and Jasmine stared at each other, then at the golden cuffs on the floor.

“What just happened?” he said.

“I kissed you. And....”

“And the curse broke. I’m not a genie anymore.”

“Looks like true love.” Not normally one to get misty-eyed, Emma couldn’t help sneaking a smile at Killian. “Well done. Now that Agrabah’s back, though, can I ask where it is?” She looked around the house.

“Not far from here,” Ariel assured her, the other two being far too wrapped up in one another’s eyes to answer. “A day’s swim, maybe.”

“At mermaid speed?” Killian frowned. “It may take us somewhat longer. And we have yet to repair the Nautilus.”

“This is taking so long.” Emma sighed and looked at the ceiling. More of Ariel’s collected objects hung from the rafters, along with fishing nets, baskets of fruit, and jugs of wine. “I just wish we had some way to get in touch with them.” She realized what she had said and gave Aladdin a nervous look, but he appeared to be truly de-genified. Jasmine said something to him about her father that made him laugh.

“Really?” Ariel brightened and started going through her shelves. “I might have something that will work. Killian, do you still have that seashell?”

“One of them. The other got broken. Very usefully, mind,” he added.

“That should do fine. I’m not sure if this will work across realms, though. It’s worth a try.” She rummaged for a few more minutes and came up with a shell strung on a cord. She handed it to Emma.

“A magic seashell? Like the one you gave Belle?” Emma looked from mermaid to pirate. “If it needs another piece to talk to, where’s the other half of yours?”

“In my chest at home.”

“Oh.” Emma deflated. “Doesn’t seem likely that anyone will hear it in there, even if it does work.”

“Maybe not, but there’s nothing lost in making the attempt.” Killian squeezed her hand.

“True. At this point, I’d take a carrier pigeon.” She lifted the shell to her mouth and thought hard about her family. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? It’s Emma. Hello?” No response. “Damn.” She missed their house, missed her son, and her heart ached at the thought of what they must all be going through, not knowing anything other than that she and Killian had vanished without a trace. Her parents would still be trading days and nights, always alone, taking care of Neal, trying not to give up hope. She would have to do the same. “I guess we can keep trying at different times of day, and stuff. Or check the mirror and see if anyone is around there ever.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ariel patted her on the shoulder. “Keep the shell.”

“I just want them to know we’re okay.”

“Then we’d best be getting back to the Nautilus,” Killian said. “The sooner we get to Agrabah, the sooner we all get home.”

“Yes, let’s. Everyone in the city must be very confused,” Jasmine said. “My poor father, it’s been so long.” Her voice faltered; Aladdin squeezed her hand.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for supper?” Eric invited. “I’m quite a good cook with fish these days, and there’s plenty of fruit.”

“Love to, but we have a submarine to catch. Thank you for the shell,” Emma said. “And keep an eye on Jafar, I guess. And maybe these, while you’re at it.” She picked up the golden cuffs and handed them to Ariel.

“Oooh, they’re pretty.” She gave them a speculative look but didn’t actually put one on . “I don’t think I would like being a genie, though. My collections wouldn’t fit inside a lamp. And don’t worry, we’ll make sure Jafar doesn’t go anywhere,” Ariel added. “He can sit in that bottle and stew for a century or so if he wants to.” She placed the bottle back on its shelf among a dozen similar containers, differing mainly in their degree of corrosion after being plucked from the ocean floor. “Perfect! It really makes the group, doesn’t it? Although perhaps just one or two more…. For balance? What do you think?” she asked Eric.

“Thanks for the shell. We’ll try to visit again,” Emma said, and put on the shell-necklace. The four of them headed back to the shore where the Nautilus waited.

To pass the hours of the journey, Emma borrowed paper and pens from their long-suffering host and set to making notes. It was an unfamiliar business, and slow. She might receive or create a file of information on a target or lately some minor crime, but she seldom had to put it all together from raw facts. Killian had offered once to be of assistance, which she refused. Since then he had occupied the organ bench, picking out sparse melodies while Emma muttered and scribbled. After a half hour, she had not made much progress.

Rumple > Dark Curse > Final Battle?

Merlin (was he a Savior?) > Author > pen?

Emotion = magic; love?

Why only some magic?

Saviors > villains > saviors > villains (storybooks?)

The last was underlined three times and circled. It refused to tell her anything new no matter how long she stared at it.

“Dammit!” Emma wiped her hand across the table; papers whirled to the floor. Killian looked up but didn’t comment. Emma sighed and started picking them up again as Aladdin came in.

“Uh… hi,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting. This is probably a waste of time.”

“What is all this?” He bent down to help her pick up the rest of the notes.

“What we know about Saviors. Except I think it’s turned into ‘everything we know about magic,’ which is turns out is fuck all.” She waved a scrap of paper with a scribbled genealogy of Enchanted Forest royalty. “This realm is lousy at history.”

“Don’t think I can be much help with that, sorry.” From the direction of his glance, Emma thought that perhaps he had been hoping to talk to Killian.

“This isn’t getting me anywhere anyway. But you and I ought to talk some time. You’re the only other Savior I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, um. About that? I don’t even understand why that trick with the ring worked. Of course, I didn’t understand why it worked before the Shears, so nothing lost really.”

“I think it has something to do with destiny. Or maybe fate.” Emma frowned.

“Same thing, surely.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She wrote that down, too.

“Fate acts upon us,” Killian said, playing a few random notes. “Destiny is the end toward which it moves us.”

“Very gnomic. Bravo. The hell does that mean?” Aladdin asked.

“It means that we cannot refuse Fate,” he said, “but it is not Fate alone, but also our own actions that bring us to, or away from, Destiny.”

“Very neat,” Emma said. “So using the shears is the ultimate act of refusal. But it doesn’t end our ability to act.”

“I guess.” Aladdin shrugged. “What is it you’re trying to do with all of this, then?”

“Figure out how saviors work. If I’m going to get back home just to walk into some kind of ‘final battle,’ whether that’s with Gideon -- again -- or whoever, I want to know why. Never liked the thought of being toyed with by universal forces.”

Aladdin shrugged. “Jafar was still defeated, even though it wasn’t by me. And you’ve faced a fair number of villains by now? I’m not sure this is a situation with rules, so to speak.”

“Maybe not.” Emma chewed on the end of her pen. “Gold made it sound like I was a Savior because of the curse. But we’ve had curses since then with no saviors. In the Wish World, that version of him said that saviors show up because villains exist, but Jafar had been around for a long while before you became a Savior. Regina was Evil Queening it for years before I was even born. Plenty of people never got saved there.”

Killian closed up the organ and turned around. “This might be a stretch, love, but is it possible that the Dark One was not entirely truthful? Nor might Jafar have been with our friend.”

“You think?” Emma sighed. “Good point. I give up. Maybe we’re not supposed to understand it.”

“If we are, then I’m certain you will in time,” Kilian said.

“I’ll leave you two to talk. I’m going back to our room, gonna try the shell one more time before we make land.”

“Hello, this is Emma,” she said for the dozenth time that day. Their tiny cabin was already more familiar than she wanted it to be, and she paced to the extent that she could. She had the message down by heart, having repeated it every two hours since they left Ariel. “I don’t know if anyone can hear me, but we’re trying to get home, and--”

“Mom?!” The voice came very faint and muffled. Metal clacked, and the chest’s hinges creaked. “Mom?”

“Henry! Henry, where are you?” Emma brought the shell closer to her ear, hoping to hear more. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I came home to get some clothes, and I heard a voice and thought someone broke in or something. Mom, is that really you?”

“Yes, kid, it’s me.”

“Prove it. Back in New York, what was my favorite deli?”

“Smart.” Caught between laughter and tears, Emma recited the address. “It’s so good to hear you.”

“Yeah. Where are you? What happened? You guys just disappeared, your dad thought Nemo kidnapped you or something.”

“Long story, we’re in the Enchanted Forest -- ocean -- Gideon sent us all here -- but we’re getting back just as fast as we can. Is everybody okay? What’s going on at home?”

“Things are okay here. Mom and the Evil Queen came to an understanding.”

“They… what the hell does that mean?”

“Mom, language. They had a fight a couple days ago, and then Regina used the Shears of Destiny so they’re not bound together any more, and then they made up, and the Evil Queen went to the Wish World to get a new beginning. And Mom’s still trying to find a way to break the sleeping curse.”

“To the wish world? What?” Emma sat down at the little folding desk. “If they’re friends now, why didn’t Regina just ask her how to break it?” She did not ask, so is one of them still good and the other evil now, or are they both half and half, or what? And how much do I have to worry about her, or them, when I’m worlds away and can’t do anything about it?

“She said she doesn’t know. It’s a curse, it’s not supposed to be broken. But she’s doing her best. Uh, everything else is quiet? Whatever Gideon’s up to, he’s not doing it very fast. And Mr Gold is too worried about what he’s up to, to make any other trouble for the town.”

“Glad to hear it. Look, we’re on our way to Agrabah right now, with any luck we’ll be back in a few days. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Will do. Everybody’s going to be so relieved to know you’re okay.”

Emma bit her lip. “Wait -- you can tell your grandparents and Regina about this, but that’s it, okay? If Gideon’s been slacking off because he thinks we’re out of the picture for good, there’s no reason to let slip to him that we’re heading home. He might do something drastic.”

“Oh. Good point. Should I even tell them, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, kid, you gotta. It’s not fair to keep them in the dark when they have so much else to deal with. But don’t tell Leroy, or anybody who might talk to Gideon. Not even Belle. Okay?”

“Okay. Say hi to Killian, and to Liam and the crew for me.”

“I’ll do that. Love you.”

“I love you, mom.”

The Nautilus docked at the tiny coastal town that served as the port for the kingdom of Agrabah. Once they were convinced that the vessel was not a sea monster, the dwellers proved quite talkative. Half the them tried to tell the newcomers that the city was gone, that the road they meant to take led nowhere but a featureless stretch of hills and a tiny spring; the other half cheerfully tried to sell them supplies for a much longer journey than they expected. As for Jasmine’s claimed identity, the princess had been missing nearly as long as the city, and the Savior was a rumor unseen in a generation.

“This is not the welcome I was hoping for,” Jasmine confessed. “They don’t even know that it was my fault the city vanished to begin with!”

“Not yours, Jafar’s. And at least they’re not trying to stop us.” Emma shrugged and checked the supplies.

“They’re not even sure you’re real!” She appealed to Aladdin. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Always wanted to be a legend.” He grinned. “And I suspect they haven’t been paying any taxes these past thirty years. Perhaps we should not be surprised by the reaction.”

They readied themselves for the overland journey to the capital. Nemo left Liam in command, and came along to oversee the purchase of the needed materials to repair his ship.

“Any other mission I would entrust to him,” Nemo said, almost seeming apologetic as they set out. “But no one knows this vessel better than I do, and her needs are exacting.”

“I’m sure my father will be delighted to see you,” Jasmine said. “His best artisans will be at your command.”

“And they will receive fair payment for their work.”

“It would be an honor, for all that you’ve done for our realm.”

Emma adjusted her new hat against the sun, which was already oppressive, and tried not to sigh at this well-mannered one-upsmanship. She glanced back at Killian, who had shed his black leather coat as his only concession to the climate. He smiled at her, but looked deep in thought, so she applied her attention to the trail ahead. Though it had not been used in many years, the route was still well-marked, rutted by wagons and pack animals of centuries.

“It is beautiful,” Emma had to admit when the lights of Agrabah came into view. “But I think I was expecting something bigger.” The sultan’s palace didn’t dominate the skyline; it was the only thing visible on it. The entire “city” was smaller than Storybrooke, a walled, tree-rich garden tucked at the base of a range of dry hills.

“My father’s wealth is unparalleled,” Jasmine said. “Agrabah is a city of artisans, jewelers, and poets.”

“And thieves,” Aladdin said amiably.

“You’re not a thief anymore.”

Aladdin slipped his arm around her waist. “Perhaps this is all but an elaborate plot to make off with the crown jewels?”

“A successful one, if so, and the thief should be congratulated.”

Emma glanced at Killian and murmured, “I don’t think we’re this cute. Are we?”

“Better to ask an outside opinion, I suspect.” He grinned.

“Absolutely not.” She looked at Nemo, some ways ahead of them. “Been a little while since we got a royal reception anywhere.”

“Unexpected though it may be, this voyage is not without its recompenses.”

“Just like old times? This land does look a bit like where we found the beanstalk.” Her Enchanted Forest geography remained hazy, and she had no idea how far they actually were from that land, from Aurora’s kingdom or her parents’.

“I hope you’ll find no reason to knock me unconscious. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She wiped the oncoming melancholy away.

“Swan….”

“Just I found myself thinking about all of the empty houses here. All of the places people used to live. Anton’s family are gone. My parents’ kingdom is gone. I guess no one in Storybrooke wants to come back here, now, not like they used to right after the first curse. Maybe somebody else has moved in. They would have a lot of work to do, the place was a wreck when I saw it.”

“I can’t see you coveting a castle, love.”

“Ugh, I don’t. We already have more bedrooms than we need. It’s just being here makes me think about how much has been lost. I’ll never see it the way it should have been, only now that it’s all ruined. I don’t know.” She looked at him. “Are you happy in Storybrooke?”

“I’m happy anywhere you are.”

She pulled a face. “You’re a hopeless romantic. If we could go anywhere in all the worlds, as a family, where would you want to go?”

He looked nonplussed, a rare event. “I’ve never been tied to any particular place, never gave any thought to settling down until quite recently. The Jolly Roger has always been my fixed point, if you will. But if you insist,” he added, “I’ll consider it.”

Their reception at the city was quite different from that in the port. As far as those within the capital were concerned, the time under Jafar’s spell had passed in an eyeblink. There had been witnesses outside Agrabrah, however, herders with flocks in the hills who had witnessed their return. Word had quickly spread within the city that they had been catapulted into the future. The city guards welcomed Jasmine with relieved affection and Aladdin with surprise.

“Your Highness, what happened?” the boldest of them asked. “Was it Jafar? Are we under attack?”

“I can’t explain now,” Jasmine said, “but we’re quite safe from him. I’m sure my father will send out word at once regarding what has happened, once I’ve spoken with him. Please, I need to see him quickly.”

The new arrivals made haste to the palace with an escort of guards clearing the way. They found the court buzzing with confused activity, most of it martial in nature as the Sultan’s elite guard prepared to defend the city against whatever threat might appear. They whisked the five new arrivals into the palace interior, a graceful and pleasant series of rooms. Artful arrangements of corridors, greenery, and fountains created cooling breezes, perfumed by the flowers that grew in profusion throughout the city and the palace grounds. Emma could pick out Jasmine’s namesake and cedar, and found herself wishing she knew the names of more of them, that she could bring a bit of this with her. She didn’t know the first thing about plants, but she had a yard now, and roots of her own.

Jasmine’s father was a plump man with a brilliant smile, dressed all in white. He and his councilors took the matter of having been frozen in time inside a diamond for a few decades in surprising stride, but they had a great many questions about Jafar -- and while they were all more than pleased to have their Savior back, Emma thought there was a whiff of paternal dismay in the air at Aladdin’s abrupt-to-them rise in Jasmine’s estimation.

“I guess it really is a matter of what you’re used to,” Emma said. She felt extraneous to the conversation, and had withdrawn to the background while Nemo and the Sultan got into yet another mutual appreciation contest.

“Absolutely. Much like electricity that way.” Killian leaned in close to her and added, “I fear that more than one of these fellows trading fine compliments with the captain would mount an expedition to retrieve Jafar’s bottle this very night, if they knew where it resided.”

“I think it’s pretty safe where it is. Eric’s got a navy, which I suspect Agrabah does not. And I doubt anyone wants to piss off Ariel’s people.”

“Mermaid wars are ugly, true. What’s the word, Your Highness?” he asked as Jasmine and Nemo rejoined them.

“Messengers are going out now to find what you will require to return to Storybrooke. At least for tonight, my father hopes that you will accept our hospitality.”

“Naturally, I would be honored.” Nemo gave her a slight bow.

“Of course we will,” Emma said. “It will be nice to sleep in a real bed again.”

Killian, bless him, kept a straight face.

One of Jasmine’s ladies-in-waiting showed Emma to her room. It was spacious and cool, and the painted tiles and silken hangings were red and gold. Doves cooed outside in the evening air.

“I hope this is satisfactory, Your Highness? One of the servants will be right outside if you need anything.”

“You really don’t need to--” Uppermost in Emma’s mind was that fact that she and no one else was clearly intended to occupy the room, and Killian’s was two doors down. She probably ought to have expected it in this realm, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

“Oh, but I must! We so seldom have foreign guests.” The woman’s eyes crinkled with her smile. “And you’ve had a long journey, as I hear. Was it very hazardous?”

Emma had to stop and think about that. “About average for this realm, I’d say. Hungry krakens, evil genies, friendly mermaids. Just let me brush some of the dust off.”

That minor annoyance aside, Emma did feel better after a chance to clean up, and she found herself enjoying the evening when they all met again. The sultan and his court knew how to entertain guests on short notice; soft music played, and the food was sublime. If most of the conversation was about local politics and also thirty years out of date, at least she didn’t have to worry about making a contribution and could just enjoy the chance to relax.

“Happier now?” Killian asked over the iced fruits at the end of the meal. The tide of conversation had turned toward Captain Nemo at the far side of the vast table.

“Yeah. Just thinking how weird it is that I’m the only one in the room who’s never been stuck in time. But this is nice.” Emma glanced around the hall. One of the servants caught her eye and started forward, and she had to shake her head to forestall them. “I mean, I’ll probably never get used to all of the fuss, but it’s okay once in a while.”

“Some fuss is be expected when a stray princess arrives at one’s door.”

“Just for being born. It’s not like I had anything to do with it really.”

“Perhaps, but even if you weren’t, you’ve surely earned accolades commensurate with the attention.” Killian gave her a look that warmed her like sunlight. “You’re a duly elected authority in your own world. Dragon-slayer, curse-breaker, defeater of giants, swordswoman, and a sorceress of unmatched puissance. What else?” He touched his lip with his tongue as he thought, which Emma considered unfair. “Outwitted Peter Pan, escaped the dungeons of the Evil Queen, fought the minions of the Wicked Witch.”

“Are you writing my resume? You should get some honors, too, Captain. Pretty sure most of that stuff was a team effort.” She very much wanted to play with his hair, that bit of curl at the nape of his neck, and get back at him for the lip thing, but they were sort of in public; she settled for leaning closer. “Speaking of which, don’t we have a tradition of dancing whenever we visit this realm? I suppose there won’t be any tonight. They did put all of this together on short notice.”

“That they did.” He dropped his voice lower, so even she could barely hear him. “Perhaps we could arrange for some later, to make up for the lack.”

Separate rooms be damned. “You’re on. See you at midnight?”

“I’ll leave a lamp burning.”

Emma had just settled down to a very impatient two hours of waiting when when a quiet knock sounded on her door. She found Jasmine and the promised servant in the hall.

“What is it? Trouble?” Emma scanned the shadows for any hint of a threat.

“No, no, I just… I needed someone to talk to. May I come in?” Jasmine had changed out of her Storybrooke clothes for dinner and back into what must be her own usual dress, beautiful blue and gold. Her hair was unbound, so she must have been abound to retire for the night. Emma had stuck with her own clothes rather than try climbing over balconies in a silk nightshirt.

“Sure.” Emma stood aside. “What’s up?”

“I feel terribly awkward asking you about this.” Jasmine paced from the door to the balcony and back again. “I’ve been away so long, living among strangers. For all my friends and ladies here, it has only been a few hours. It’s all familiar and so terribly alien. I suppose I should have expected that.”

“Sometimes coming home is the hardest thing imaginable,” Emma said.

“It is. But there’s something else. Um. Aladdin.” Jasmine sat down.

“Oh? I thought you two were getting along.” Emma dragged a second chair around to face Jasmine’s.

“Oh, we are! It’s amazing.” She smiled, but then sat forward with an earnest frown. “It’s just, well. True love? Really? I never really thought about it.”

“Feels like a lot of pressure to live up to?”

“Yes.”

Emma grimaced. “You really want my mom for this conversation. I’m not exactly an expert at love.”

“You certainly could have fooled me. And a few other people.”

Emma gave her a blank look.

“You have no idea how much you’re spoken of in Storybrooke, do you.” Jasmine raised a fine eyebrow. “Both of you.”

“I… guess I do not.” She found the idea more than a little unnerving. “But if you’re here for relationship advice, the point is that I am like way, way out of my depth.” She sat down with a sigh. “I mean, I can tell you that it doesn’t make things easy? You’ll still be the same people, still be scared or angry. I love Killian, and I know he loves me, but that doesn’t change that we’re here right now because we had a big fight the other day.” Jasmine looked shocked; Emma shrugged. “The thing is, you can’t spend your whole life with the dial turned up to eleven all the time? Even with love. Can’t be dying for each other every day. Life settles back. What makes it real is working through the day to day stuff.” She cast around for a way to explain as Jasmine looked dubious. “It’s like my dad says. He’s always talking about how important the little ordinary moments are, and -- hell, he and my mom argue all the time, shared heart or not. Usually, anyway, when they’re not cursed. But they love each other, so they sit down and work it out later. Does that make sense?”

“I suppose so.”

“Look, you loved him before, right? And he loved you. So what’s different now? Other than that you know how he kisses.”

“I’m not sure. I did love him, before, but I was so afraid for so long. It’s hard to set that aside, and yet -- it’s as if my perspective changed, in that moment. When we kissed. I know I’m the same, that he’s the same, but… I see him differently, now.”

“Yeah.” Emma smiled at her own memories. “That probably won’t be the last time it happens.”

“Oh, it already hasn’t been.” Jasmine leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Perspective?”

“No.” She laughed. “Kissing. And, well, other things.”

“Oh?” Emma must have looked surprised; Jasmine blushed.

“In previous years, I’ve had neither time nor interest in dalliance with any of the court here,” she explained. “And in the Land of Untold Stories there are no new beginnings. So I find myself with little guidance in these matters.”

“Got it.” Emma smiled. “Now here, I can probably be a lot more helpful than my mother would be. Bring on the questions.”

Jasmine left looking a good deal more thoughtful than she had upon arrival. Emma wished her luck, and went out to her balcony. The courtyard below lay in alternating blocks of moonlight and shadows. A few torches moved where guards patrolled the iron gates. Most of the palace windows went dark as she waited. The sound of drums and flutes drifted up from the city, where the last of the revelers were determined to last out the night, celebrating release from their strange prison. Agrabah’s rulers were evidently of a more sober cast than her people.

At last, a bell far off in the palace tolled midnight. Emma stretched and looked to her right. In between her room and Killian’s, Aladdin’s lamps had gone out some time ago. She considered using magic to get over there for half an instant, then decided that it would be cheating. It wasn’t that far from one pierced stone railing to the next, and the stone walls with their profusion of decorative carving offered plenty of handholds.

Emma swung a leg over the railing before she could have any second thoughts and started working her way across the gap. She had done a lot more risky things than this, she reminded herself, and for less reason. It was actually kind of fun. She made it to Aladdin’s balcony and stopped to catch her breath. No one stirred beyond the balcony curtains; he must already be asleep. She crept across the polished stone and repeated her maneuver on the other side, then peeked through the curtains to make sure that she did have the right room.

Inside, a lamp was still burning as promised. Killian lay stretched out in a chair near it, paging through a book. He had his sleeves rolled up, hook set aside for the night, a languid shadow all in black. He glanced up and smiled as Emma came in.

“I hoped that was you.” He started to get up, but she shook her head and joined him on the chaise, her gaze locked to his. Perspective shifts; light changes. Under a cold blue New York sky (maybe I do trust him), his eyes had been too honest for her to bear them for long. They were a little wide now, questioning her silence or her expression.

“Just enjoying the moment,” Emma said. “And the view.” On a gray morning in Neverland (maybe I do want him), she had wondered what else a mouth might do that kissed like that. She bent her head to his now; anticipatory warmth unfurled within her. She traced his lips with her finger and laughed when he captured her. A conversation in kisses followed. They wandered often -- she nibbled on his lower lip and felt his pulse quicken; he explored every sensitized inch of her neck until her breath came shallow -- and then returned to where they had begun, a gentle question and reply.

Other lights and other skies meant other changes, meant a candlelit ballroom (maybe I do love him) and firelight and unaccustomed comfort grief. He moved his hand to cradle the back of Emma’s head. She melted down against him, rested her forehead against his and reached out to snuff the lamp.

“Leave it,” Killian said. “I thought you said something about bed.”

“We’ll get to the bed, promise.” She slid her hands under his shirt. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad.

In the morning they went out into the city. It would be two days before the artisans there could craft the parts Nemo required. Nemo himself would be supervising the work, and politely hinted that the others would only be in the way. Jasmine and Aladdin were meeting with her father and his advisors, trying to figure out how to reestablish the city’s authority after decades of absence.

“I don’t think we have much to add to that,” she said to Killian after breakfast in one of the palace’s tiny graceful salons. Fresh fruit, nuts, and some kind of honey pastry had left her feeling optimistic about the day. “I’m going to go stir crazy if we stay in here, unless maybe that’s the coffee talking, this stuff is incredible. It’s pretty, but I’ve had more than enough of being cooped up on the way here.”

“Alas, it does seem that we have little to offer Jasmine’s family. What have you in mind? The gardens are famous, I understand.” Killian gestured toward the nearest window, a tiny china cup almost invisible in his hand. Brightly colored birds flitted through the trees.

“Then we’ll do that. And we should take a look around the city, since we have some time to kill. Buy some souvenirs. Catch a play, or something. I mean, I know this isn’t New York, but it’s the capital. Must be something to do.”

“I’m happy to see you put aside worry for a time. This is a fine land in which to seek distraction.”

The square beyond the palace gates was already crowded. They walked from there to the city gates, where a thin stream of new arrivals made their way past the resolute guards. The ancient road had a destination again, and word was spreading quickly. Young folk stared in wonder at a city that to them was a legend come to life, and their parents were little less amazed to see the capital and its people unchanged despite the years that had passed in the outside world. Two foreigners passed without any notice whatsoever.

In between pauses to watch the street performers and admire the city’s gardens (which she had to agree were of surpassing beauty), Emma watched Killian and wondered what was going on. He seemed to be looking for something, and twice wandered off out of sight while she considered some vendor’s wares.

“Is there anyone you know in this town?” she asked eventually, having found a scarf that her mother would like.

“I doubt it.” He quirked an eyebrow. “If I do, it’s probably no one I want to see.”

“It’s just that you seem to be looking into every door we pass since we got to the market.”

“Ah. Sorry. There was a shop I quite liked, somewhere in this quarter of the city.” He waved. “I forget exactly where. Probably long gone.”

“What do you want to buy?” That made sense, particular as she knew him to be about his clothes and gear.

“Stone is loose in one of these rings. It’s not terribly important.”

Emma suspected that was not the entire truth, but he wore a hint of a smile that reassured her; she let it drop and settled for enjoying the morning.

As mid-day approached and the heat grew intense, the crowds dwindled away. The two of them following the general migration indoors, and found one of the many low, white-walled refuges that lined the side streets around the market square. They shared some dried fruit and the sturdy local beer and speculated on events at home.

“Two more days, and then however long it takes to actually fix things.” Emma sighed. “I would have liked this visit if it was a real vacation.”

“Aye. But we’re doing all we can.”

She reached out and took his hand, and a comfortable silence fell. After a while Killian shifted to lean closer to her, though he kept his hand loose in hers. She heard him take a breath that sounded like a decision.

“This might not be the best time, but I’d like to ask you something,” he said.

Emma braced herself. “Go ahead.”

“What was it like, when you became the Dark One.”

She blinked, trying to read his expression; he didn’t look upset, just thoughtful, so she tried not to get defensive. “Terrifying.” He nodded. She sought more words, though they were slow in coming. “I was utterly alone. I didn’t know where I was, what I was, how long it would last -- it felt like hours. I guess it’s what being born would be like, if you knew it was happening. Um.”

“Hm. I wonder if it’s different every time. If it knew that loneliness was a way in.”

“Probably.” She took a fortifying breath. “So… it wasn’t like that for you, then, was it.”

“Not exactly like, no.” He was quiet for so long that Emma wondered if he regretted broaching the subject. “The Darkness was new to you, and so it took some time for it to find a crack into which it might force a lever. With me, well. I was an old companion. Every moment of fury or despair was easily found to be relived there in that vault.”

“Re… lived?” He was always precise with his words.

“Aye.”

“Oh.” Her voice shrank. “Milah?”

“And my brother, and others.” He shrugged. “I’ve lived with the memories for centuries, they have little power to wound these days -- individually. All together turned out to be a different matter.”

“I think I understand. I--”

“This isn’t an effort to make you feel guilty, Emma. I just wanted to explain why I… succumbed, the other day. And I’m doing that because, well, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, and I thought--”

Henry’s voice came from the shell Emma wore on a cord around her neck. “Mom? Mom, are you there?”

“Yeah kid, what is it?” She gave Killian a helpless look; his expression sharpened into concern, and Emma could see him shift into guard mode, watching the rest of the room to ensure they hadn’t attracted undue attention. She lowered her voice and spoke into the shell. “We’re kind of in public right now.”

“You gotta get home right away.”

“We’re getting there as fast as we can, but--”

“It’s your parents. Something’s happened.”

End of Chapter 2

#cs ff #ouat ff #captain swan #b writes fic sometimes #the thing continues

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chichichobits · 7 years

Text

All tea B.A.P in NYC

Hey I’m going to try to make this as short as possible and will omit real names for privacy purposes. Myself I will call Twix and my sister Skittles. Friday after work and school we decided to meet up to line up early for a spot for B.A.P since we had P 1 tickets. We were ready to go and packed a suitcase, snacks, and a tent while we headed to the venue Terminal 5. I had scouted a day before and knew we would be near the water so wanted to be prepared for the chilly winds. Most people on Facebook said they would start lining up around 12-1 in the morning so we took an Uber and got there around 11:20pm. We were so shocked when we saw that a line had already formed. Some people that were P 2 and P 3 had got there early Friday morning—talk about dedication. We were still in pretty good standing since there were about 14 people in line. We decided to set up shop and put up the tent, but the thing was we had never set up one before. Luckily there was a former Girl Scout in the group ahead of us that started to help. As we were clearly struggling trying to put up the tent, Almond Joy comes out of nowhere, and sets up the tent with us. Low key I just thought she wanted in on the tent because it was so cold; but, after we invited her in she politely declined and went back to laying under her blankets. There was an event going on at the venue and around midnight security comes out to tell us to disperse and we can’t stay there. They give us red tickets and tell us to come back in the morning. People converse for a little bit and post on the B.A.P NYC facebook for people not to line up until 9:30 am because of the special tickets.

After a few hours of sleep we decide to head back to terminal 5 dressed to the nines with our sleeping bags and blankets. Almond Joy arrives at the same time and we go find our spots next to the other red ticket holders. Everyone starts to make small talk about biases, dramas, and the big 3 while trying to keep warm but it’s so brick outside. My sister finds a kindred spirit in a baby we will call Jolly Ranchers and they are so cute with each other. Next to us is another duo with a crazy girl with a big personality named Sweet Tarts, and her bubbly bestie Twizzlers. Near the front of the line by the entrance this petite girl starts screaming “ Stop It Just Stop It”. It was loud and she starts spazzing out saying people are skipping the line. She argues that it’s not fair because she has been there all morning lined up since 3:00 am and how people have been freezing in the cold and it’s not fair about the red tickets. She is pissed and storms off to join the line with her banners. At about 9:30 am security comes out and moves the line closer to the venue and separates the red tickets holders from the regular ticket holders and directs us to the other side of Terminal 5 where we wait behind barriers. We take turns going to the bathroom and some people go to change or pick up some food---those chicken nuggets though delish! Another member of our crew Kit Kat bust out the card games which include the classic Uno and Cards against Humanity which is so hilarious. During this time the event staff were checking the lines and handing out wristbands for hi touch . We were later joined by my sisters friend named ChocoPie who actually came with plenty of snacks including Poki Sticks with ChocoPies and put the rest of our stuff in her car for storage.

We go off to the nearest deli to charge up all our devices and come back just in time to get our photo op packages and wristbands. The packages are totally random and I ask people what they got and most got Daehyun. I look at mine and initially I thought I received a signed album from Jongup but the group ahead of us told me it was Yongguk. I didn’t even have a chance because Skittles pounced on me lol. I traded her signed album for Daehyun and my Zelo cards I traded with someone else. Closer to the time of the concert people started getting hyped up and there’s press going around asking questions about the group and the fandom. You have people dancing, rapping, and singing. Our group the Velvet Rope (inside joke) is doing the most---you have Sweet Tarts and Chocopie busting out lyrics for Wake Me Up, Jolly Ranchers on the side with Kit Kat cracking up, Twizzlers is freaking us out with her trivia skills like how do you know what stuff animals everybody sleeps with lol all and all the interview was funny af. There’s these cute korean girls in front of us that start talking to ChocoPie that just so happen to know the same people. One of the girls actually has the same name as Jolly Ranchers so we’ll call her Juicy Fruit. Fast forward to it’s time to go into the venue and there’s this commotion near the front of the line. Apparently a lot of people in the front did not have the red tickets because security told them otherwise. Also there were not P 1 but were P 2 and P 3 anyway the guy in charge came and sorted everything out and they were allowed to stay on the line. Sweet tarts crazy self makes a last minute dash to a bathroom nearby and comes back right on time before we start heading in.

We make a mad dash to inside after getting our bags checked but barricade is gone ~ le sigh, but we still get pretty close. Our group is on the right side of the stage. The korean girls with ChocoPie are on my left and on my right is Kit Kat with the rest of the group. Everybody started coming in at once filling all the space around us in no time. The concert didn’t even start yet and on my back I could feel this girl super close and was laughing with her friend. I know that in the pit it gets crazy and packed. In my head I’m thinking to myself does she not feel my butt on her or does she not even care. So I’m listening to them and there’s three of them. One on my left had bright fire engine red hair, the one on my butt kind of reminds of Hyme from Rania, and there was another shorter girl to my right but behind Kit Kat. She tells the one in the middle I’m not staying here. Music comes and they start playing some old school 80′s or 90′s songs, like songs you would hear in karaoke. Everybody start singing Sweet Dreams by the Eurythimics. All of a sudden the lights dim, the countdown starts, and the babyz start chanting B.A.P. the dj comes out and starts mixing. As soon as they came out we started screaming and everybody went nuts! I have to say that our group well the whole section was lit! There was so much energy yo it was crazy and I really didn’t that would enjoy it like I did here! One thing was that the girls behind us kept pushing us non stop and I turned to see who it was and it was the girl from before that was spazzing out let’s call her blowpop because she was acting up lol. She pushed KitKat and elbowed me in the sides. Her friend pushed Juicy Fruit but she locked arms with me and told me not to let go of her hand it was real in the pit omg like so bad. After blowpop knew she couldn’t push past us she bumrushed Jolly Ranchers but it did not work. The whole concert blowpop was like a little angry dog with the pushing it was pretty brutal. After awhile eventually the red headed friend stopped but blowpop never did until the very end. I’m trying to upload videos to this but yeah it’s a no go I think my files are too big or something I don’t know. I can talk about the interactions that we had. I came for Daehyun he is my bias but the maknaes came for me at this concert. Jongup is so fine like I couldn’t stop looking at him like what where did you come from? When I tell you he’s a bias wrecker that’s an understatement. He was all over the place pop locking and grinding all in your face lmao and gets an automatic invite to the cookout. He was looking at Kit Kat and she has the receipts. Youngjae was caught staring at her too. Mmh okay. Jolly Ranchers told me that she was dancing and just happened to look up to see Jongup staring at her like what and talking to Yongguk about it O_O he was definitely feeling the black girls that night I’ll say that. Blowpop was such a hater. That girl is straight crazy. Jolly Ranchers was so surprised that he was looking at her because she was so quiet and Blow Pop was screaming her head off. She told me everytime he came over to our side she kept elbowing her and Blowpop would try to mess up her videos when Zelo was in front of her. Yo that is so not cool. Jolly Ranchers got so mad at her she knocked the phone out her hand. Zelo was another dark horse that I was not expecting to go all out for the concert. If Jongup is invited to the cookout he sure is bringing Zelo with him because that boy was not playing. He has such great stage presence and was so cute the whole night and was interacting with us the whole night I see you over there Zelo <3 It was so cute hearing him sing for his solo and I love his little dance he did with this giraffe headband on his head again I would upload the video but yeah. He fell down and was like I’m so tired of his dancing he was so cute. Coming for me?

I’m starting to get sleepy so I’m going to try to wrap this up real quick. Dae dae killed me with his vocals I was like liquid. In general all the songs were good but the songs that I could listen to were Fermata, I need You, Body & Soul I was done. Not to say that I didn’t like the upbeat songs like That’s My Jam, Bang x2, Spy, etc it’s just I love how they arranged those all together. Feel so good was great too. Youngjae solo was good too and I was surprised that he danced in the very beginning. Gukkie was a shy little turtle on our side and reminded me of a painting artist, or recluse and he was so happy I was just like awww. Skittles was losing her mind over how good he looked especially with the white shirt. Jongup solo was so damn sexy. The end. Himchan was so cool and I love how he interacted with people. Lisa the girl he picked was so cute and shy. I think when they did the love shot she just about died. He also got a real kick out of the pink sign someone made for him. I was so mad at him with that damn watergun. He would low key try to squirt you if you had your phone out. Skittles ducked out of the water and he laughed. He caught me I was too thru and ChocoPie started screaming at him playfully informally lol. Near the end of the concert people thought it was over but they came back out and people lost their minds again bad thing nobody wanted to leave because they thought it still wasn’t over lol. Hi touch was right after and the line was ridiculously long but what I didn’t like was how they was rushing people and screaming hurry up. KitKat told me that her, Jolly Ranchers, Sweet Tarts and Twizzlers had a plan.They rolled up to the table saying “ Ayeeee” with Youngjae and Zelo was like “ Ayeeeee”. There were some technical difficulties at the the table lol I’m not obligated to say what exactly lol but it gave Kit Kat a chance to have a moment with Youngae. For my high touch I made a mistake but it kind of helped me out a little bit in the end. I had my phone out in my hand not even paying attention really and I’m on my way walking to the table when the security screamed go back no phones no phones you will not be able to take a picture so I had to double back and put my phone in my pocket in the mean time two girls went in front of me flying by me. I almost missed Youngjae because he was the first one so I did a quick tap and hi with him and Zelo, but I had to slow down for Daehyun and held his hand told him I loved him all the while the lady is screaming at me to hurry up like excuse me lol and Jongup is laughing because I’m holding up the line XD no fucks were given I don’t remember Himchan too much after hi five because I was being rushed and Gukkie had the biggest smile on his face when I hi touched. I almost left by mistake because you had to make a left to go back into the main hall. They grouped you by 10 with me and Skittles being on the end. We got lucky because I was the only one that wanted to take a picture with Daehyun and Skittles wanted Yongguk. I didn’t go when I was suppose to because it was suppose to be 5 at a time and I was number 6 but I did the numbers in my head. I noticed that 5 would stand in front and the others would kneel. I didn’t want to be on my knees so I just kept walking and just in time because I guess the girls didn’t figure out what was happening. The other four weren’t walking up either. So I stood right in front of Daehyun turned around and he started smiling, I didn’t know what to do so I gave him another hi five and then I waved to Jongup and the rest. Then we took two quick pictures and I said bye to him my heart. I was so high after that. It was so good I didn’t even care about the picture honestly. truly. It was all about the interactions and talking to them. The night was filled with so much drama but would I do it again? Yes in a heartbeat.

#bap in nyc #blackgirls #party baby 2017 #fan account

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monaisme · 3 years

Text

One Week Later - Chapter 6

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

Tony’s POV

The elevator doors closed and the huge grin Tony was wearing in case Peter looked up fell from his face. He’d been worried that Peter would see his concern, but no. The boy had obviously been lost in thought and now that he was gone, Tony’s stomach dropped. Too late, he was realizing that maybe… just maybe he should have gone with him to the med bay.

Pepper, it seemed, was waiting for Peter’s departure, too, but for a completely different reason. She was gripping her phone in her white knuckled fingers, a sure sign that she was not feeling in control. As soon as she saw the elevator’s display showing its descent, she rushed to her husband and blurted out, “Tony, what are we going to do? We’re screwing this up so badly.” She was fighting back tears. “At this point, the only thing we could do worse is hook him up with a drug dealer and give him free reign of the liquor cabinet!”

Tony almost flinched at the uncalled for dig at his never forgotten past and fell back on his old Stark default mode. “Hey! C’mon, Pep,” He joked, “To be fair, there hasn’t been anything worth drinking in the cabinet since—“

“Tony,” Pepper rebuked. “Be serious.”

”I am being serious.” His entire demeanor shifted. “I know we’re not perfect, but we don’t exactly have a rulebook here, Pep.” He was trying to not feel attacked. “We’re doing our best considering everything we’re trying to balance.”

She couldn’t mask her upset as she waved her phone in the air, “I think you mean considering the fact that I’m fairly certain Peter thinks I’m having an affair?”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“He heard me talking to Morgan,” she announced.

Tony was confused. “Okay? That sucks—and it will definitely need to be addressed at lunch,” he conceded, “But how exactly does that equate with you having an affair?”

“I was promising her a ‘date’ while I was talking to her, and I didn’t hear him come into the room.” She groaned and covered her face as she remembered. “He has no context, Tony. Of course he’s going to think I’m cheating on you—and then I completely froze and he looked so...” She struggled to find the right words. “Lost? Confused? I don’t know, Tony. It was like he couldn’t figure out what was going on and then you came in and I didn’t get a chance to address anything!”

Tony knew that Peter had looked a little off when he’d come back up to the floor, but Tony had half expected it after the morning he’d had. He’d seem to warm up pretty quick though and Tony hoped that meant he was feeling okay. Peter had even said he was feeling better, hadn’t he? Tony tried to remember, then realized he’d never actually gotten a reply. “Damn it.” He turned to glance back at the elevator as he finally voiced his own worry. “I should have gone with him to see May.”

“I don’t know.” Pepper bemoaned, then uselessly scanned the room. “We were so eager to get back to normal, Tony. Maybe she’ll be the one to help him find some balance in all of this?” She didn’t sound convinced, but hopeful.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know about that, but then again, I’m not certain I know anything right now.” He ruminated on it for a second. “I was so sure we could take a page out of your playbook, babe. Just make a list of all the important stuff and follow the plan.” Tony chuckled low. “I thought it sounded too easy. I’ve known that kid for—“ Tony caught himself. “I knew the kid for more than a year and nothing about Peter ever screamed order.” Tony chuckled, almost sadly. “That kid is chaos wrapped in churros and salvaged DVD players. All he had to do was do things in order...” He smiled sadly at his wife. “First May, then MJ and Ned, next Morgan—“

A memory sparked for Pepper, and her eyes widened in horror as she gasped, “Oh!” then brought her hands to her mouth. “Oh, no, Tony!” She staggered over toward the couch and dropped gracelessly onto a cushion. “I didn’t even realize!”

Tony rushed to comfort her. “Realize what? Honey, whatever it is, it can’t have been that bad?”

Pepper nodded that it was, in fact, that bad. “He was talking about MJ, but it’s been so long since... and she’s been Michelle to me since she started interning...” Tears welled up in her eyes, “Tony, we were talking about art and getting to know each other and he was happy enough, I think. Then he asked about MJ and Ned and I never checked on Ned because Michelle did all of that with you and I didn’t know Peter then either and it didn’t even register... I left him to check and her name wasn’t there and—“ She knew she was a rambling mess, was trying to pull herself together. “I left him alone and I could have told him that she was safe and happy—“

Tony snorted.

“Shut up, Tony!” Pepper scolded, distracted from her inner torment. “She’s as happy as Michelle can be and you know it!” She swatted at his leg, “And he’s going to hate me! Now is not the time to be laughing at the situation.”

Tony did know that MJ was happy, though it had been a difficult first couple of years for one of Peter’s best friends—but MJ wasn’t the issue. “Pepper, Peter’s a good kid. That hasn’t changed. All we have to do is explain what happened and he’ll understand. We’ll have a nice chat at lunch and it’ll be alright.”

Pepper was sceptical. “He thinks I’m an adulterer and a liar, Tony.”

Tony reached out to squeeze her hand. “Just wait until lunch. We can clear this up and then you can start getting to know him better. I know you knew the kid before, but once you get to know the real him... not the ‘freaking out because he’s meeting THE Pepper Potts’ him, you’re gonna love him. Pep. I promise. The kid has a heart the size of New York. Once you guys are past this, you’ll be in for life.” He shot her a playful wink then kissed the back of her hand. “Like with me.”

Pepper calmed a little and stood back up, keeping hold of his hand. “Honey, I already care for him.” She assured him. “I saw how much you changed and matured when he came into your life... when he wiggled his way under your armour, both literally and figuratively.” Her eyes shone as she remembered. “And I saw how much you grieved when you lost him.” She faced her husband and brushed his cheek. “I simply don’t want to wreck my chance with him before we can become...”

Tony knew what she was thinking. He pulled her into his arms and held her as she melted into him. “This is going to be a tough road, Pepper, but I know that we can work our way through this. Once we do, we’re going to be okay, love. I promise.”

They stood there together for a few minutes, drawing strength from each other. Tony was sure he could stay there with her forever, but for the fact that the two of them had to make lunch for a teenage superhero. He gave her a last squeeze and pulled away. “As wonderful as this is, it’s time to be responsible grownups so I need to figure out what to feed the spider baby.” Tony said as he walked to the kitchen. He knew that it was stocked with the essentials so there were options, but who knew what Peter would be in the mood for? “Wanna help? I’m thinking soup and sandwiches can tide him over, just in case we need to keep things light for a while longer. Does that sound good to you?”

Pepper had followed behind him and got to work, pulling out a saucepan to reheat one of the containers of deli soup she knew was frozen in the freezer in case of a sick Morgan emergency. “It sounds perfect,” she replied and they worked in companionable silence.

It was a relief to take the time to do something so blissfully mundane, so neither of them rushed. Too soon, however, they were finishing up and placing the plate of finished sandwiches on the counter while the soup simmered on the stove. With nothing else to do, Tony checked his watch, growing anxious. “Not to keep harping on it, but I can’t stop thinking,” Tony started, then checked his watch again, “That I should have gone with Peter to see May, at least the first time.” He voiced his earlier concern.

“Was May not doing well when you went to see her?”

Tony shook his head in frustration. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. It’s May. After all these years, do you really think she’s going to complain even if she is? And it doesn’t matter anyways. I’d have never asked her to hold off on seeing Peter.” Tony thought back to his visit to the med bay. “I’m going to have to talk to that doctor of hers, though. I know he’s the best in his field, but now that Peter’s back, the idea that we not give him as much access as we can is just cruel.” His mind went back to Wakanda and the concerns with Peter’s shoulder and transformation, but now that his DNA had settled—“It was bad enough when we were worried about Peter and had to delay coming back, but now that he’s actually here?”

Tony’s thoughts shifted to how anxious they’d all been, and how worried he’d been that they’d be too late. His heart had dropped when Dr. Bonwick had mentioned the infection and he tried to shrug off the ‘what ifs’ but his spirit darkened. He pulled in a harsh breath and dragged his hand through his hair. “She waited five years for him to come home, Pepper.” He lamented. “I’m...” He seemed to lose his words for a few seconds, then found them. “I’m so damned angry with myself that I wasted all that time.” He shook his head in frustration, “I keep thinking that if I’d just gotten over myself sooner, Peter would have had more time with May and—”

Pepper cut him off in his tracks. “No, Tony. Stop it.” She sidled up to him and placed her arm around his waist. “Everyone was in a dark place after Thanos.” She tugged at him, brought him to face her so she could wrap both of her arms around him. “Everyone. Steve, Okoye, Nat—hell, Clint decided to become a vigilante for five years. Do you blame any of them for taking time to grieve?”

“No... but Pep— May—“

“No. You listen to me. First, you know that we have done everything we could for May and she knows it too, so you don’t get to pull that card. And second, you idiot man, I know you. You still think that you have to carry the weight of those years, but you don’t... and you never should have. This was Thanos’s fault, and I know that no one blames you for any of it except you.”

Tony closed his eyes as he breathed in the sincerity behind her words. It hadn’t been the first time she’d said those words to him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He chose, again, to ignore them but found solace in the realization that at least she truly believed them. He whispered a tender, “I love you, Pepper Stark,” and, “I don’t deserve you,” then touched his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss.

She pulled back, smiled with an affection reserved just for him. “No, you don't deserve me, but I'm still here and I'm going to love you even when you think you don’t deserve it."

“But I don’t” Tony replied.

It was her turn to shake her head. “Tony. Do you remember when you put me in charge of your company?”

“I do,” he agreed.

“Do you remember telling me that I was one of the smartest women you’d ever met?”

“I do,” he agreed again.

“Well then, Tony, stop arguing with me and just admit that I’m right.” She patted him on the cheek. “You do deserve me—even if you make me crazy. Besides, you know that I—“

"Emergency channel accessed." FRIDAY interrupted, "Incoming call from Lydie Calder- Head Nurse of Avengers Tower Med Bay, Boss."

Before Tony could step back from Pepper, the room filled with the voice of the woman who was currently overseeing the health needs of May Parker, whom Tony had left barely half an hour earlier.

“Mr. Stark? Are you there?”

"Lydie? What’s going on?" Tony called out as he turned to move to the elevator. "Is May alright? I can be there in one minute."

"What?” Tony could hear the panic in her voice, "No! It's Peter. I think he's left the building!"

Tony stopped in his tracks. He said nothing to Lydie, instead snapping out a tense, "FRIDAY, locate Peter now!"

FRIDAY responded immediately. "Mr. Parker exited the building one minute, forty-three seconds ago then proceeded to head south toward Grand Central Terminal. I am attempting to access CCTV and relevant security systems now."

Without a word, Pepper rushed into the kitchen to pull the soup from the stove element as Tony tried to rein in his freak out. Yes, those who’d been lost with Thanos’s snap had returned, but the city was in chaos, to say the least. He’d received the occasional report while he’d sat at Peter’s bedside, but it hadn’t been a priority. Peter had needed him, was going to keep on needing him, and he’d needed to be present for that. And now? "Lydie, tell me what happened?”

“Mr. Stark, it was a train wreck. I tried to stay close to help navigate any questions, but it was so tense…” She took an audible breath before continuing. “Peter was so nervous which made him cautious, and May was trying so hard to pretend like everything was okay, but then her fever spiked again and she was having issues with pain management. Mr. Stark, I couldn’t delay treatment-- not even for Peter.”

Tony growled. “That still doesn’t explain why Peter took off? What else?”

“May was quite upset. I made the decision to supplement her pain medication with a light anti-anxiety medication and she fell asleep. I was explaining this to Peter when a monitor disconnected and one of May’s alarms went off. I dealt with it right away, but with the tone of the visit by the end...well, it must have scared him because by the time I’d corrected the issue and come back to him, he’d fled the floor. I could see that the elevator was heading down, and with everything going on in the city, I thought it best to call you immediately.”

Tony thought she was done, and was opening his mouth to bark out another request to Friday when Lydie spoke again.

“Mr. Stark, he wasn’t in a great headspace the entire time they were together, no matter how much he tried to fool us. And I can only imagine what’s going through his head right now. I know you’re gonna start looking for him right away but… could you please be sure to tell him that May’s okay?”

Tony wanted to be mad at the woman but he knew Lydie, knew that this was not her fault. She was one of the best nurses on staff in the med bay. She was knowledgeable, she was fearless, and she had a soft spot for Peter and May Parker the size of the damned tower. “I will, Lydie,” he replied. “Go take care of your favourite patient, and we’ll update you when we find Peter.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” she answered, and FRIDAY disconnected the call with an update.

“Boss, it appears that several CCTV cameras in the area have been damaged in the last forty-eight hours due to rising incidents of vandalism and sporadic rioting. I have attempted to access private security footage with limited success. It seems that Mr. Parker was last seen on surveillance footage on East 42nd Street—“

Tony almost sighed in relief. “Okay, that’s not too far. FRI, get me a suit and—“

“A suit is en route, Boss. Please note that the surveillance footage showed Mr. Parker entering an unidentified vehicle which I am still attempting to track.” FRIDAY paused. “Still tracking.”

“An unknown—?“ He sputtered, “Hey, girl, do you think you might want to lead with that next time?” He paced as he clutched at his left arm. When had it started tingling? “Shit! Where’s that suit, FRIDAY?!”

“Tony?” Pepper approached him, noticing his distress. “I know you’re worried—I am, too! But you also know that he’s going to be fine. I mean, he’s Spider-Man plus he knows New York like the back of his hand, right?”

Tony shook his head, ignoring her concern for him as he got himself even more worked up. “He knows New York from five years ago, Pep—and the whole Spider-Man thing doesn’t mean anything if Peter is distracted. That kid can swing himself into a wall if he’s chewing the wrong flavoured bubble gum. I just need to find him then get him home so we can—“

“Tony. Try to calm yourself, honey, and then you can go and get our kid, okay?”

FRIDAY popped in, and for a second both Tony and Pepper thought that maybe there was an update. “Boss? Your vital signs are indicating extreme emotional distress. Would you like for me to initiate Meltdown Management Mode for you?”

He huffed a laugh at the suggestion, “Wow, that’s a protocol out of the archives...”

“Mr. Parker found it quite helpful earlier today while en route to the med bay.”

That last part caught Tony’s attention. “What? Peter needed the 3M Protocol?” The doors heading out to the landing pad opened up and one of his newer non-nanotech suits came rushing towards him. He stepped forward to meet the armour as it wrapped around him. “You know what? Never mind, FRI. Just transfer all information you have about the vehicle Peter got into to the suit.” His face plate snapped down and he marched with a determination toward the landing pad as the surveillance footage played. Tony watched the brief snippet. He watched Peter trying to hail a cab, and then being approached by the mystery vehicle before getting in. It was official. Peter was a bonafide idiot. “I’m going to get our kid.”

“Please be careful, Tony.” Pepper’s voice came through over the comms as he launched up and into the sky.

“Don’t worry, Pep. I didn’t figure out time travel just to lose this kid to a damned freelance cab driver. I’m gonna track him down, get him home, and then we’re gonna have a little chat. After that, we’re going to figure out where we go from here.”

Tony’s faux bravado was contagious. “That sounds great, love, but where exactly do we go from here?”

He didn’t say anything for a full half minute.

“Tony? Are you there? Did you cut out?”

“Sorry about that.” He responded. “And shame on you for thinking one of my masterpieces would just cut out, by the way. Geez. No, I was just trying to come up with an answer for you, Mrs. Impatient.”

“And?”

He chuckled low, “I’ll let you know when I figure it out, Pep. I’ll let you know.”

#fanfiction #IronDad and SpiderSon #Avengers: Endgame #non-compliant #ao3fic #AO3 fanfic #OBlossom

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biofunmy · 5 years

Text

Jewish Summer Camp With Campfires, Crafts and No Lights Out

As if on cue, the first camper I meet is a guy named Josh: a nice, 27-year-old Jewish boy with kind eyes, a subtle smile and the same name as my husband, another nice Jewish boy, back home.

“Do you know where Malbec is?” asks this Josh, Josh Blake, rolling his eyes, and then his suitcase, over a wide dirt path flanked by rickety cabins that have been renamed for the weekend. (Malbec and Cabernet, for the men; Pinot Grigio and Rosé for the women; Raisins for all.) “I don’t want to walk all the way over there, if it’s back there …” he says, sounding not unlike Woody Allen.

I don’t blame him. The camp is desert-hot and dusty. And he’s ultimately here, he later admits over bagels, because his parents paid the all-inclusive $525 for him to be. They met on this very land, albeit half a mile away. “Talk about pressure!” he says, laughing.

Ilana Rosenberg, 31, sitting nearby, agrees. “My mother said, ‘Have fun! Go meet your Jewish husband!’ My sister was like, ‘Mom, she could find a Jewish wife, too, you know’.”

American Jewish University owns these 2,800 acres in Southern California’s Simi Valley, which is home to rolling hills and herds of cows, the university’s Brandeis-Bardin Campus and Camp Alonim. Over the next three nights and four days, this 66-year-old summer camp for Jewish kids has been commandeered by a new kind of summer camp — Trybal Gatherings, for Jewish adults.

Trybal Gatherings was founded by Carine Warsawski, 34, a buoyant, Boston-bred M.B.A., with the goal of fostering lasting community among Jews in their 20s and 30s, and, ahem, a few in their 40s.

She held her first Gathering at Camp Eisner in the Berkshires in 2017, roping in mostly friends of friends. Over Labor Day weekend, it sold out, with 125 campers and a wait-list dozens’ deep. Last year, she added Wisconsin; next summer Atlanta, and has plans to expand from Seattle to Austin to Toronto.

Whereas traditions like Birthright Israel offer free trips to the homeland, Ms. Warsawski’s aim is to offer an immersive, low-commitment experience closer to home — one rooted not in Zionism or religious doctrine, but in the shared nostalgia of a Jewish-American rite of passage, complete with archery and horseback riding, and a roster that reads like it’s from the Old Testament. (At one point, I’d forgotten my name-necklace. “That’s O.K.!” someone joked. “It’s probably either Sarah or Rachel.”)

There are two main differences between Jewish kids’ camp and Jewish adults’ camp: No bedtime, and booze, lots of it. Kiddie-pools brimming with hard seltzer at Bubbe’s Beer Garden. Bottles of cheap wine at supper. Compostable flutes of bubbly at Arts & Crafts.

Also, adult campers have careers, though no one talks about them. Web developers and screenwriters, wedding planners and wardrobe stylists. And yes, a few doctors and lawyers. The majority came solo; others hand-in-hand and interfaith or happily married in matching outfits, like Emily and Rachel Leavitt — my Secret Santa, er, Mystery Moses.

It’s a mix of die-hard camp people reliving their glory days, once-homesick campers redoing their awkward years, and first-timers wondering what all the fuss is about. “My parents were immigrants from Iran! They didn’t know about camp!” says Baha Aghajani, 30. Neither did Saraf Shmutz, 39, who moved from Tel Aviv to San Diego. “My summers were ‘go play soccer and bug off.’”

As a writer who hasn’t been back to her camp, Young Judaea, in New Hampshire, in 25 years, I signed up to learn what’s moving Jews to opt for uncomfortable bunk beds and kosher-style mess halls, in lieu of a real vacation.

Trybal isn’t the only over-21 camp cropping up these days. Nor is it the only Jewish one. Camp Nai Nai Nai, which also operates on both coasts, and attracts a post-college, more conservative crowd. And “55+” Orthodox Jews have been davening at summer retreats for decades at places like Isabella Freedman where campers crochet kippahs and take day trips to Tanglewood, in the Berkshires.

Trybal is arguably the only camp, though, that starts the day with an “Abe Weissman Workout,” a calisthenics routine straight out of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” (Tomato juice refreshers included, but no rompers.)

It’s also, explains Ms. Warsawski, “a place for people who are more -ish than Jew.” Like Molly Shapiro, 28, of Berkeley. ““This is my jam!” she says. “Synagogues today aren’t really designed for us. We want something less traditional, more affordable, more fun. I mean, playing cornhole isn’t Jewish, but we’re playing cornhole together!”

Togetherness is what Trybal is all about. The schedule is packed from early morning to midnight with get-to-know-you-games and group activities like partner massage and mah-jongg, pickling and pool time.

The next morning, I pass up dreamcatcher-making for challah baking. “Oh yeah, this is what I’m here for,” says Abel Horwitz, a young Robert Downey Jr., kneading dough we’ll later braid and adorn with toppings beyond the traditional sesame. Rainbow sprinkles. Peaches. Jalapeños. “Will 20 loaves be enough for all 60 of us tonight,” some Jews worry.

Next, it’s a tossup between the relationship workshop and the ropes course. I decide I like humans more than heights and head over to hear what the visiting Rabbi Sherre Hirsch, has to say. She reads a passage from the 20th-century philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and tells us to partner up. A 26-year-old named Sam and I stare into each other’s faces for a full five minutes. “Sit with the discomfort,” the rabbi urges. Reluctantly, I do. I smile. He winks. I wiggle, examining his wrinkle-free forehead and bushy eyebrows bound to grow bushier in old age, until my awkwardness turns to calm. I’m overwhelmed by a deep feeling of curiosity and compassion for this man, for myself, for humanity.

“That was a good reminder,” Ms. Aghajani says afterward. “To give people more of a chance. To not swipe so fast.”

After a grilled cheese buffet, there’s solar art and yoga and Slip-n-Slide kickball. I head for the hammocks, where a guy with long red hair is lounging in a tie-dyed Helvetica T-shirt that reads “Falafel & Sabich & Hummus & Schwarma.” It’s his third Trybal. He is the camp guitarist, and a rocket scientist in real life.

“I come to be a kid again,” Jeremy Hollander, 34, says. He pauses. “And to, you know, be with my people.” In real life, he doesn’t bring up the fact he’s Jewish. “‘Hollander’ isn’t ‘Schwartzenbaum’. People see me and usually think I’m Scottish or something.” He feels safer that way. Especially today, he says, with rising anti-Semitism. “The flame is being fanned. You never know who has what opinions. Here, I can let my hair down.” (Although, technically, it’s in a ponytail.)

“The only one thing I have to worry about at camp,” he says, “is when am I going to squeeze in a shower?”

Still, before sundown, we all emerge from our bunks neat and clean and dressed in white. “Can you believe I got this for $2.99 at Saks Off Fifth!” exclaims Lauren Katz, a volunteer staffer wearing lace. (We can’t.)

Picture time. “Say Cheese!” the camp photographer instructs. “But we’re lactose intolerant!” someone cries from the crowd.

We gather in a stone-lined grove, to sing and sway and cheek-kiss “Shabbat Shalom,” before making our way to the dining hall for a sit-down dinner of roast chicken. And, of course, plenty of challah.

It’s all so familiar to me. The tunes are different, but the Hebrew words are the same. The trees are eucalyptus, not pine, and Mr. Hollander is not the longhaired, tie-dye-clad musician from my old camp, and yet — he could be.

I agree with what he said earlier. There is something easy and assuring about spending a summer weekend like I used to (albeit for eight whole weeks): with my people. Or, at least with people who remind me of my people. New friends bonded by old memories.

Trybal is like a modern millennial shtetl, where gesundheits fly. And “Hava Nagila” plays at a Hawaiian luau. And campfire stories include, “How I Became a ‘Nice Jewish Guys’ Calendar Model.”

It’s an alternate, insular world where I find myself running through a field, streaked in war paint, chanting: “We have spirit, because we’re Blues! We have spirit because we’re Jews!”

It’s a universe where conversation flows from the Netflix show “Shtisel” to the lack of Jews in Santa Barbara to the universal disdain for online dating (despite the fact that Trybal is sponsored by JSwipe), to whether Ms. Rosenberg indeed met her future husband.

“We’ll see,” she says, smiling. She did make-out at Arts & Crafts with the Trybal barista: a boy she barely remembers being at her bat mitzvah.

On the last night, I slip quietly out of the luau, where the D.J. is rocking “Lean On Me.” I leave the Leavitt ladies in their twin Hawaiian shirts and my Rosé bunkmates dancing the macarena. Mr. Shmutz and the Cabernets are making reunion plans. Mr. Blake is flirting with one of his crushes.

I have an early flight to catch. Back to my husband and kids and, in a way, the future. In the morning, I’ll miss the friendship bracelets and the compliment circle and, like a true last day of camp: tears. For a moment I have FOMO. And then I realize, it’s fine. Sometimes an Irish goodbye is just as good as a Jewish one.

Rachel Levin is a contributor to the Travel section and the author, with Wise Sons Deli, of “EAT SOMETHING,” to be published in March, by Chronicle Books.

52 PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Follow our 52 Places traveler, Sebastian Modak, on Instagram as he travels the world, and discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world.

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