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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

Love

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Lambert/Aiden

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: No request this time, just wanted to write something soft.

thanks to @sometimesiwrite for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, softer than a freshly washed puppy, ~yearning~

Ciri asks about love.

“Hey, Uncle Eskel?”

Ciri’s voice, smooth and level with her age, rings over the ramparts from which Eskel currently hangs. Vesemir has given them all a chore for the afternoon, and Eskel is finishing closing a gaping maw in the structure of the inner wall of the keep. He is just barely perched on a scaffold, reaching to place the last stone in a spot that’s *just* outside of his reach.

Eskel turns to look down at Ciri, her ashen hair shining bright in the waning sun. He huffs as the breeze catches his dark hair and flops it down into his eyes. Ciri giggles, a sweet sound that she has yet to grow out of. Gods, I hope she never does, Eskel thinks.

“Yes, Swallow?” Eskel is pretty proud that of all the dumb things Lambert and Geralt tried to nickname Ciri, his was the one that stuck.

Ciri crosses her arms over her chest, looking all the world like Geralt whenever he has his mind set on something that is almost certainly an inconvenience for Eskel. “After supper, I would appreciate your insight on some personal matters.” Ciri winks, her proper tone eclipsed by a chuckle just under her breath.

Eskel grins a bit, thinking back on their previous discussions. She’s grown up quite a bit, still on the earlier side of twenty, but her mind is sharp as a blade, and her tongue even sharper. “Of course, it would be an honor.” Eskel bows where he hangs, making his position even more precarious. He hears the quick intake of breath from Ciri and sits back up, smiling wide even as his scar pulls at his lip.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Eskel says, switching the stone to his other hand before leaning back to the hole. “You’ll not get rid of me that easily.”

Shortly after, Eskel and Ciri get to the supper table just as Lambert is serving. He’s on cooking duty all week, which works out well for everyone. He’s got the most agreeable palette, and he uses it well. However, next in the rotation is Geralt. He has the most sensitive nose out of all of them so he doesn’t season, and can’t cook a bird for shit. Eskel plans on appreciating his younger brother’s cooking as much as he can before the next week of bland meat and undercooked bread.

“Eat up, fuckers.” Lambert sets a large dish on the table, a hearty roast full of venison and root vegetables that had been stored away before the frost set in. A layer of lightly spiced shortcrust covers the top, and is served alongside tankards of ale and a hunk of dark bread.

“Smells delicious, Lambert,” Ciri calls after his retreating form. Eskel sees how the tips of his ears blush as he pours some of his “vodka” (which is really just shitty leftover potion water) into his tankard, but Eskel only smiles down into his plate. Vesemir joins them too, and the four of them tuck into the generous offering.

Their peace is short-lived though, cut off by the abrupt clang of the great doors flying open. Geralt stomps into the common area where they all sit, and Eskel wrinkles his nose. Geralt is soaked head to toe, and he smells like a mix between a decaying fish and a little bit of vomit after too much spicy food.

Lambert clearly picks up on it too, offering Geralt a sip of his drink. “Drowner duty?”

Geralt grunts as he sits across from Ciri, bumping Eskel’s shoulder as he helps himself to the dinner. Geralt moans a bit as he takes the first bite, and Eskel shudders at the sound. He’s always been weak for Geralt’s voice, especially with how rarely he actually uses it.

They eat quickly now, forced to scarf it down in an effort to escape the devastating scent that Geralt brought to the table. Eskel drains the last of his ale and grabs an apple, slicing it in half and handing some to Ciri. She whips out her own dagger and cuts away the core before portioning it neatly into several smaller mouthfuls.

Geralt sighs before pushing himself to stand, a whole new waft of nauseating aroma settling with the sudden movement. “I’m going to wash.”

“Thank Melitele’s sweet tits, I thought you were just gonna make that part of your ~look~ now, pretty boy.” Lambert leans back with his boots kicked up on the table, carving a crude drawing into a pear from the table. Geralt walks quietly away from the table before turning abruptly and swinging his leg wide, catching Lambert’s chair and yanking it out from under him. He flails wildly before his ass hits the ground and he turns to grab at Geralt’s ankle. But he has already torn off towards the baths, and Lambert huffs before scrabbling to his feet and chasing after him, his pear long forgotten.

Vesemir sighs in the now much quieter room, also standing and picking up his plate. “Well done on that wall today Eskel. Looks much better.”

“Thanks, wasn’t anything too difficult.”

“Maybe so, but I still appreciate it.” Eskel smiles as Vesemir walks away, letting himself revel in the praise for a moment.

Ciri clears her throat, bringing Eskel back to the matter at hand. “Library?” She asks, and Eskel nods. He takes Ciri’s plate and sets them into the washbasin for a later time. They trek up the stairs and push open the heavy wooden door. Eskel lights the fire with a flick of his fingers and the room instantly warms, the air light and swirling around them.

Eskel watches as Ciri plops down onto the dense fur in front of the fire, warming her hands as the orange light dances over her face. He walks over to his trusty copy of the Beastiary, only to pick it up and find it much lighter than he would expect. He opens it, and instead of his glass bottle of White Gull, there is a note in the hollowed-out hole.

‘Maybe pick a less obvious hiding place, douche-canoe.’

The handwriting is scrappy and small, just like the younger witcher that wrote it. Eskel sighs before turning to another bookcase, finding a heavy tome that Jaskier had left for him a few years prior. He flips this one open and finds two small flasks of Toussaint wine, which is certainly better than nothing.

Eskel walks silently over to Ciri and hands her one of the glasses before sprawling out beside her. They sit in silence for a while, as has become tradition while Ciri gathers her thoughts. They both sip at the wine, and Eskel needs to remember to write a letter to Jaskier at Oxenfurt for saving his ass tonight.

“I have to warn you Eskel,” Ciri murmurs, and Eskel looks over to her with a crook of his brow. “This isn’t going to be an easy one.”

Eskel hums, taking another sip of wine. “Never is, kid.”

Ciri takes in a deep breath, steeling herself with a long chug of the alcohol in her grasp. “How do you know if you’re in love with someone?”

Eskel’s eyes widen imperceptibly, and he can feel how his heart skips a beat. “Damn Ciri,” he chuckles, “you weren’t kidding when you said this wouldn’t be easy.”

Ciri only shrugs with a smirk. Eskel shifts a bit, partially to get himself more comfortable, and partially to give himself more time to think. He can only wiggle around for so long before it gets weird for everyone though, so he just ends up tucking his legs underneath him and taking another long drink of wine.

“Well, I-”

“Have you ever been in love, Eskel?” Ciri turns to him, her bright gaze shocking on even the best days. Now they bore straight through Eskel, and he feels like she is peeling away the layers of mortar he has so carefully laid around his heart for the past, oh, century or so. Eskel thinks back, trying to remember the moment that he knew what love was.

And then he tries to figure out how to tell Ciri that he knows what love is like because of her father. Geralt showed him what it was like to feel out of breath whenever they were more than a hairs’ breadth apart. And then the all-encompassing relief that sang through his bones whenever they reunited. They showed each other how to accept this part of their lives that had been so desperately ignored, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But that’s a lot. Geralt is terrible with words and feelings, and Eskel is not much better. Ciri looks at him expectantly, with all of the air of royalty running low on patience. Ciri is eternally patient though, especially with all of the practice she has had with Geralt.

Eskel is just about to open his mouth when he hears stomping down the hallway, and he waits until Lambert pushes open the old door with enough force to send the snow into an avalanche over the mountains. He, now, is soaking wet, though instead of drowner guts he only smells of the clean mineral water that flows into the springs beneath the keep. Eskel smirks up at him as he traipses over to where the two of them sit, dropping himself unceremoniously into one of the soft chairs that rests not far from the fire. “Geralt throw you in?”

Lambert hums in the affirmative, seemingly harboring no further ill-will towards him. “What are you two chucklefucks talking about?”

Ciri pipes up, seemingly (for whatever reason) interested in Lambert’s opinion. “I asked Eskel what it feels like to be in love.”

Lambert’s face looks as though he was just violently slapped with a fish, glancing over to Eskel who only offers a shrug in return. Eskel is expecting a long-winded rant about how ‘Witchers don’t love, it makes you soft, and a soft Witcher is a dead Witcher…’ blah blah blah, but that’s not what he gets. Instead, Lambert kind of sinks further into his seat and his eyes turn tender, and Eskel realizes that he’s getting a glimpse into the Lambert that the world so rarely sees.

“Wanna know what I think about love, little beetle butt?”

Ciri nods, turning more fully towards Lambert. Eskel does the same, curious to see what his youngest brother has to say. Eskel holds out his half-empty flask, handing it to Lambert in a silent offer of support. Lambert drains the remainder of the wine in one gulp, the bastard, before he smiles a bit as he loses himself in his thoughts.

“I think that love is-” Lambert sighs, searching for the right words, “love is indescribable. You don’t know what it is until you have it, and then you never want to let it go.”

Eskel nods at Lambert’s words, letting them resonate in his mind. He never quite feels right anymore without Geralt at his side, his body and soul yearning for their other half in a way that cannot be depicted with mere words.

“Ciri, I haven’t got a clue about whatever you’ve got going on,” Lambert wags his finger in the air, and Eskel can see just how influenced the youngest of them was by Vesemir. “But life, especially human life, is too short to dwell on shit that will fester and bubble under your skin if you don’t let it out.”

“But how do I know?” Ciri whispers, and Eskel’s heart breaks for her. Gods, he has spent decades asking himself that exact same question, and he still doesn’t really have an answer.

“You’ll know when it’s not a question anymore.” Lambert stares off into the fire, watching the flames lick up into the air, chasing the wayward embers into the dark of the ceiling. Eskel is kind of stuck, Lambert’s words ringing through his head. When it’s not a question anymore. Fuck, when did the little prick actually get smart?

Ciri rolls over, pressing a gentle kiss to Eskel’s cheek, right over the angriest of his scars. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel. And you, Uncle Lambert,” she gives him a kiss on the cheek as well, and leaves them alone to their thoughts.

Eskel looks over at Lambert, seeing in bright relief the decades that have worn this man raw, and wonders just how he can still have room for love in his heart. “Who is it?”

Lambert sighs, hanging his head a bit. “I met him on the Path. We’ve been...traveling together now for a couple of years. He’s uh-he’s the best man I’ve ever met.”

Eskel smiles wide once more, scooching closer to where Lambert sits. “I’m happy for you, Wolf. Why haven’t you told us?”

“He’s another Witcher, and a Cat no less.” Eskel blinks at this, but the way that Lambert looks at him, vulnerable and exposed, shuts up any errant thoughts he may have had. “Besides, like you have room to talk. You’ve been pining after Geralt for how long? A century? Two?”

Eskel throws his shoe at Lambert, catching him on the shoulder. Fuck, I need to work on my aim. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”

Lambert scoffs as he stands up, chucking Eskel’s boot back over his shoulder. “Right, well. Once you figure it out, let me know. By that point, I’ll be retired on the coast with a whorehouse next door. You’ll know where to find me.”

Lambert is almost to the door when Eskel’s arms wrap around him, strong enough to bruise a rib if he wasn’t a Witcher. “Shit, Eskel! Let go of me, you great oaf!”

Eskel gives one last squeeze before he relents, grabbing Lambert by the arm before he can take off running. “Thank you, Lambert, and I promise. I won’t tell anyone before you’re ready.”

Lambert glances down to the ground with a great breath in, his golden eyes catching Eskel’s when they return. “Thanks, brother.”

“Of course, Wolf.”

#uncle!eskel #eskel & ciri #gereskel #aiden x lambert #the pining is real with this one

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lamesiscanon · 5 years ago

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lily + james if there wasn’t a war? (if you like

YES. Seren I’d literally do anything for you ((Though I am a fool, I thought I posted this a week ago and logged into my computer today to find it waiting so please forgive the tardiness))

At the beginning of the summer holidays, Petunia had reluctantly approached Lily with the invitation to spend the rest of the warmest months with Vernon and their parents on a trip to Spain with Vernon’s family. It was some dumb plan of Petunia’s to get the families closer together, before the wedding next year that would most likely result in some bullshit conversations that would be too safe and not at all interesting. Or worse, she knew she’d have to keep up some lie about her “private boarding school for troubled youth”. And so no matter the amount of begging her parents had resorted themselves to, to get her to come along, Lily’s response was an easy Hell No.

Consequently, her parents were never going to let her stay home alone for two and a half months, so she was arranged to stay with the Lupins. It was the best thing to ever happen to her, until James Potter found out.

The mind of James Potter was able to come up with many excuses as to why he was constantly visiting the Lupin cottage, and increasingly become more and more ridiculous.

“Remus! I need that book you promised to let me borrow.”

“Remus, I am here to plan a prank against Peter. He sent me explosive confetti in the mail.”

“Remus, I need the stitching repair charm. Padfoot chewed up all of mum’s pillows.”

“Remus, I need your help with this job application, I’m having a hard time understanding what they’re asking for here.”

“Remus, I need you to help me shop for an outfit to Alice’s wedding.”

Each time James popped in through the floo, or crash landed in Hope’s tomatoes, Remus invited him to stay and go to town with them, or hang by the pond. Lily tried her best to not act annoyed.

It was obvious James was coming just to see her, no matter how brief. And it was obvious how he was much less subtle about his liking her, after finding her notebook in potions at the end of term and seeing that her last page included his name along with various attributes she and her friends “liked” about him. Yes, it was childish. Yes, it was the most embarrassing moment of her life when he returned her notebook.

Lily only had her Head Girl badge to blame, since it matched along with James’ Head Boy one and they had been forced to spend more time together during their last year at Hogwarts. It made her notice that he wasn’t just some immature boy. He was a kind, cute, and talented young man, and Merlin, Lily hated to admit it.

Now, however, as she read her book and listened to the storm, Lily had to strongly disagree with Mary and how she wrote “fashionable” when asked to describe James Potter. Her opinions were backed up by the bag of pink shirts he had slung over his arm as he walked in through the front door. The bag of horrid pink most likely had to do with his daily excuse to see Lily.

“Remus! I found some of your things in my trunk!”

Lily set down in her book, and looked at James with mild annoyance.

“Do you ever knock?”

“I don’t need to. Hope and Lyall have made it known their house is open to all.” Though, his clothes were soaking from flying, and he dripped water all over the cottage.

“Well, I can’t believe graduation was three weeks ago and you waited until now to unpack your trunk.” Lily cringed on the inside, knowing at this point she was trying too hard to be annoyed and disinterested.

“I didn’t wait three weeks, I unpacked two weeks ago but just now remembered to return these. I just barely gave Sirius his Robert Plant posters back.” James said, taking off his shoes and flying gloves, before carrying his bag onto the lounge chair across from Lily.

“Robert Plant? Are these posters for Sirius’ hair aspiration, or fantasy boyfriend material?”

“It’s most likely an equal mix of both.”

Remus came into the room then, asking about the stuff he left in James’ trunk, until he saw the bag of pink.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Your Madam Pudifoot’s merchandise!” James pulled out a shirt with the words “Love is the way” printed on the back.

“I don’t own any merch. This is all your-”

“Now, Remus, there’s no need to be embarrassed about your interests.” James looked at him pointedly, and Remus sighed in defeat.

“The things I do for you.” Remus muttered, as he shook his head. James mouthed a ‘thank you’ in return, before turning back to the bag.

“AHA! And here’s your hat!” James draped the shirt over Remus’ shoulder and put the pink bucket hat on his head. Remus looked close to punching him.

Lily couldn’t help but laugh loudly, and the look Remus gave her only made her laugh harder. Poor Remus, he needed to be put out of his misery.

Lily got up from her spot on the couch and walked over the bag herself. Inside, she found many fabrics of pink and purple, and even some with feathers. The first thing she pulled out was a shirt with a much brighter, atrocious shade of pink than the last, with hearts and the Madam Puddifoot logo.

“No, I think Remus is right. I was working the day James bought this. Though, I never would have thought he’d be buying it for himself.” Lily turned to face the two boys, grinning wildly and holding the shirt up against her. “Besides, Remus’ merch of choice is Celestina Warbeck pajamas.”

If Lily had a camera, she’d take a picture of both their blushes and keep it in her room forever. There was no greater feeling, Lily decided, than the feeling of knowing she caught James in his act.

“Yet, I have to admit. This is an excellent choice of pink, Potter. I can see it really clashes with the hair.” She held the shirt out in front of him, faux contemplation all over her face. She was really enjoying this.

“Oh, do you mean the hair that ‘looks so soft you could run your fingers through it’? Or did you write the part about how good it looks during quidditch?”

Now it was Lily’s turn to blush, knowing he was referring to the things written in Lily’s notebook. Seeing how the tables had turned, James was back to all confidence and esteem, as if he hadn’t just been exposed and embarrassed.

“Your clearly imagining things, the only thing I wrote about you was how difficult it must be for you to get through doorways with that incredibly big head of yours!” Lily was a great liar, but she knew already. She knew James read everything on that page.

“Oh, that’s right! Now I remember! Just below that bit was the part about how hot the ‘post-sex’ nature of my hair is.” James stepped closer to her, pink t-shirts and Remus forgotten. “In your same handwriting.”

“The only reason my handwriting is so recognizable to you is because you spent weeks in third year copying it and writing love letters to yourself, pretending they were from me.”

James’ grin fell, and he took a step back before turning an accusing glare at Remus.

“I wonder how you found out about that.”

Remus did his best to shrug innocently, barely controlling his laughter as he made his escape out of the room and up the stairs. They listened together as the muffled guffaws of laughter leaked through the ceiling’s boards.

“Well,” James began, trying to break the silence “I think my head just got deflated quite a bit.” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, and he avoided eye contact by staring at his shoes.

“It’s a good thing to have your ego taken back down every now and then.” Lily agreed.

“Although it sucks to happen,” James admitted “I guess we’ve both done some... very embarrassing things in the past.”

They could still hear Remus laughing upstairs.

“I think...” Lily drifted off, swallowing hard and begging herself to gather up the courage. “I think a deflated head is all it would take for me to say ‘yes’ to a date with you. You know, if you’d ever ask.”

James snapped his head up, and it made Lily wish he hadn’t. His eyes were too intense, and she blushed remembering she wrote something about how she could stare at them all day. She wanted to drown knowing James also read this.

“You r- you wha- Really?”

Lily shrugged, still holding the pink shirt as she turned to sit back down on the couch.

“Well then, please excuse me for a minute.”

Lily’s brows furrowed in confusion as James rushed out of the room and into the kitchen. After a couple minutes of drawers opening and closing, she heard his footsteps on the stairs, then heard James talking to Remus, and finally, his footsteps came back down the stairs and he was in the room again. Though, this time he had flowers in one hand, and chocolate in the other. The flowers were dripping water on the floor, like his clothes had earlier and it made Lily laugh.

“Did you seriously take those out of Mrs. Lupin’s vase? And did you take Remus’ chocolate?” She was laughing again, clutching her stomach as James stood in front of her, confident and embarrassed at the same time.

“I’ll put these back! And Remus said it was fine.”

Lily laughed harder, watching water droplets glide down the stems and hit the wood.

“Would you just... just let me ask you already?” James sounded exasperated, but his smile and shaking shoulders betrayed how funny he found her laugh. It made her insides warm.

“Okay, okay. I’m listening. Go ahead.”

“Lily Evans...” He managed to begin, before she was laughing hysterically again.

“Oh, come on.” James gave up, throwing the chocolate in her lap and falling onto the couch next to her.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, please continue.”

“Mmmm, now I don’t think I can go out with someone who laughs as bad as a hydrangea.”

“You mean a hyena?” James was never good at knowing “muggle” animals.

James turned his face to look at her, ignoring the correction and moving the flowers so they were closer to her.

“Lily. I’d like to take you on a date some time, if you’ll let me.”

Lily enjoyed how quickly he could go from joking and playful to sincere and serious. She smiled, and took the flowers. Then she vanished them back into the vase in the kitchen before she slid closer to him.

“I haven’t spent years embarrassing myself in front of you to say no.”

James smiled and leaned in to kiss her.

After what felt like hours of fireworks and electricity running through her body, she broke away to give another tiny laugh. “Too bad you can’t fly home in this storm, you’ll have to stay here for the night.”

“My, my, Evans. Making the moves already?”

She huffed, and hit him on the shoulder.

“Git. What I’m saying is, the only other clothes big enough to fit you in this house are the Madam Puddifoots t-shirts, and I’m so looking forward to seeing you in neon pink.”

The look on Jame’s face was priceless.

BONUS:

The next morning found Remus at the kitchen table peacefully drinking tea and reading the paper. He read about Celestina Warbeck’s recently announced tour, and took a sip of tea only to promptly spit it out as Lily walked into the kitchen in the over-sized pink t-shirt. James followed with a bright smile and real post-sex hair.

“It’s... about time?” Remus offered.

Lily just smiled. Yeah, it was about time. But now they had all the time in the world.

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tineechi · 4 years ago

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Kono Oto Tomare Chapter 93 English Summary

https://raw.senmanga.com/Kono-Oto-Tomare!/093

Sooo... Sorry for the delay. The Japanese raw chapter was released a few days before in Baidu but I was so busy and lazy at the same time. T_T

Standard non-native Japanese speaker disclaimers apply.

The chapter is entitled 'Anxious/worried child' and starts off with Keishi cooking in the Doujima house's kitchen. He tastes his dish, declares it delicious and calls for Akira and their grandmother.

On the table, Akira says that the miso soup is delicious. Keishi happily tells them that he tried changing the dashi stock and checks with Akira if she likes this taste. Akira says "Yes. I like it." He asks "Grandma?" and Grandma seriously answers with "A little bit dark..." (I think she meant the color of the soup. Miso soup is usually clear but I think Keishi's dish may be more opaque than usual. Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Akira changes the topic and asks how Sakai-kun is doing. He tells her that he is doing good and trying his best. Keishi also says that Mittsu can now concentrate better than when her mother was not yet discharged from the hospital (She's still in rehabilitation though).

The scene shows their past practice where Keishi points out that Mittsu needs more volume on a specific part and Mittsu says that Akira-sensei has also pointed that out. He then continues on to say that his fingers (not having enough strength) is why he still couldn't play it.

Keishi tries to assure him by saying that he firmly has the basics in him but Mittsu is still a little unsure. Keishi sits beside him and "borrows" his hand. Keishi tries to show Mittsu how to do it by placing his hand over Mittsu's and showing him the movements. He explains that "You might get it if you experience it once". Keishi holds Mittsu's finger and shows him the direction to pluck the strings while saying "My way of playing it..."

Mittsu is surprised and enlightened. Mittsu says "Oh. It is like this?" Keishi clarifies that their posture is a bit different (because Keishi is sitting beside Mittsu and not sitting like he is actually playing the Koto) but the direction is kind of like that. Mittsu is astounded and says "Amazing!"

Mittsu continues to be super happy and amazed. He says that a wonderful sound came out and that he's using the same koto and nails as before but with this motion, the sound came out beautifully. Mittsu also says that he wouldn't forget the feeling just now and tries to copy the motion again and again. Keishi looks touched by Mittsu's genuine happiness.

Keishi finishes recounting that experience to Akira while saying "I was about to cry that time." Akira smiles and says that Sakai-kun's sound has really been improving lately. Keishi energetically agrees with her like a proud brother. HAHAHAHA. Akira tells Keishi that "After all, I am very glad that I asked older brother for this." Keishi is surprised and drops bits of rice from his chopsticks. Tears just falling from his eyes like a waterfall. XD

Keishi asks "Can I squeeze/hug you?" and Akira says "No!" :D

Grandma stubbornly makes a sound like "Hmph!" and stands up after eating her meal. Keishi asks if she is already done and Grandma says that she did not return to this house to hear them talk like that/talk about those things. Grandma tells Akira that she returned because she was worried when Akira said that she wants to rebuild the Tsubaki group. She asks them "What are you two doing? Taking care/looking after such amateurs (Tokise kids)?"

Akira and Keishi look at each other and Keishi jokingly says "Grandma also...would you like to come and teach?" Grandma shows an angry and scary face and Keishi takes it back immediately and apologizes.

Grandma resignedly says "Jeez...from a long time ago, you two..." She turns her back on them, and says "If you can afford to teach other people, why not try playing a song at a concert?" and leaves the room.

Keishi asks "Just now... was that referring to me?" Akira answers with "It's only about big brother, right?" (Because Keishi's the only one who stopped performing with the Koto. Hahaha)

Akira laughs and says that Grandma really isn't honest. She says that it looks like somehow big brother got involved in the Koto again and that makes her happy. Keishi smiles at her and jokes about the miso soup.

Keishi becomes serious for a moment, asks about the club and if it’s going smoothly. Akira tries to explain that it is a challenging song and that they're really having a bit of a difficult time. Keishi agrees but tries to say "but other than that..." but Akira interrupts by saying that there's still a bit of anxiousness and worry (As far as I understand, she mentions that there is still an anxious child. But I might be wrong. It might be an idiom or a common expression but I just assume that some club members are still unsure how to play their parts. Please correct me Native speaker-san.)

The scene changes to Momoya and Atsumu in the classroom. Atsumu is super excited in telling Momoya about what Kudou-senpai has said. Momoya looks a little bored listening but Atsumu continues with "And then... after that...". Momoya interrupts and tries to say "Yoshinaga...you don't need to report everything to me." Atsumu is shocked, feels a bit embarrassed and looks down while saying "Ahhh... I..It was annoying huh?" Momoya looks a bit guilty and tries to rein it in by saying something along the lines of "It's hard to do that, right?" (Meaning it might be hard for Atsumu to do that for him.)

Atsumu becomes excited again and says "Not at all!/It's defintely okay!" HAHAHAHA. (The interaction between these two will kill me. XD) Atsumu continues by showing Momoya a notebook that he writes on about what happens in the club and what every one has been talking about. (Talk about diligence and passion. Sheeesh this Atsumu boy! :D) Momoya reacts with "Uwa!"

Atsumu says that if Momoya wants to ask anything about the club, he can ask him. Momoya says "Well... Thanks..." then thinks to himself that Atsumu has bad handwriting. LOL

Momoya is a bit astonished because there was an entry written in the notebook about Momoya saying that they need to play more in the classic style. Atsumu writes in the first person perspective and notes that only his sound is 'floating'. Also, Momoya saying that playing according to the musical score is the start line (meaning... every one needs to know how to play the correct way as a basic skill. Then they have to improve their playing from that point on.)

Atsumu says that he didn't think before that music can be that deep but he thinks that Momoya is great because he knew about that. Momoya tries to disagree and says that he does not know about it that much. Atsumu insists otherwise and says that he was listening to music everyday and then it was like he suddenly understood (I think he meant about how Chika had an epiphany and explained how to play music from the last chapter. Atsumu uses a phrase I'm not sure about. 目からウロコ - I think it's scales from the eyes falling suddenly or kind of like genuinely understanding/seeing something. Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Momoya thinks for a few seconds and asks "You listen to music every day?". Atsumu smiles and says that "Yes, I do." and that he likes his grandfather's music very much. He also listens to anime songs, special effect songs and character songs too. Momoya says "Character songs..." and Atsumu embarrassingly says "Umm.. right... Momoya-kun doesn't listen to those kind of songs..." Momoya answers with "Well... I don't know much about it..."

Then Momoya says "If you have any performances/songs that you recommend, send the titles to me through LINE." Atsumu is surprised and clarifies "My recommendations?" and Momoya answers with "Who else's?"

Atsumu looks super happy, pulls out his phone and says "I'll send them. I'll send them right away." Hahaha. Momoya tries to say "It's okay if you don't send it right away."

While typing, Atsumu's hands are shaking and he keeps thinking that it's the first time that he's sending recommendations to Momoya. He is a bit teary-eyed and he says that "Looks like a friend." (Feels like a conversation between friends) out loud. Momoya is a little shocked and Atsumu covers his mouth, thinking "Oh no! I said that out loud/my voice came out." Atsumu tries to say sorry in a very panicked way and thinks to himself that Momoya definitely thinks that what he said was annoying.

They are interrupted because the class is about to start and Momoya turns to face the blackboard (with his back to Atsumu). Atsumu is still a bit troubled by the situation and Momoya is thinking to himself that this is a bit troublesome. He is thinking that it's not just about making it sound classical when they play. He thinks that when they play as an ensemble, Yoshinaga's sound is usually 'floating' and no one tells him that it is that way. Because no one calls him out for it, it becomes normal and he keeps playing the same way.

Momoya pulls out his phone and reads the Line message from Atsumu saying that he'll send the recommended titles.

Momoya continues to think that he can't say anything even if he notices. It is probably a sound quality issue and maybe Atsumu (he refers to him as Yoshinaga here) is not skilled/dexterous enough to make changes to his sound even if he informs him.

The scene changes to the practice and the four of them are playing as an ensemble. Momoya hears Atsumu's sound and notices the difference immediately. They finish the parts and Kota is happily asking Atsumu if he felt that it was good that time. Atsumu also happily says that he feels the same way.

Chika doesn't really look happy and says that it was "their best so far but..."

Kota asks "But?..." and Chika says that it's like it's not refreshing enough. It feels like it's not good enough.

Seriously, Momoya says "Mizuhara-senpai and Yoshinaga are still cheating a bit." Both of them react with "Eh?!" Kota says "I'm not cheating though." Atsumu also say "I also am not doing something like that."

Momoya, with a funny face, says that that means more problem for him.

Kota asks about the part that he did wrong and Momoya answers with "Well.. No.. it's not like it's a mistake specifically."

The he tries to explain something along the lines of "the best place for the pauses/places without the sounds". (Hihihi, it's very technical so I'm not too sure but I think he is referring to the way you put the pauses when you play the song. It has to have meaning to make it more evocative. Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Momoya continues on to explain that Mizuhara-senpai is probably listening to the other’s sounds too much. Because of that, his timing is delayed. On the other hand, Yoshinaga's issue is his basic impatience. He is usually staying ahead/ in front in terms of timing.

They're all surprised and Kota is panicking a bit. Hihihi. Chika asks if that is all. Momoya asks "Eh?" and Chika tries to explain that "Well.. No.. I can't say it properly... but the atmosphere/mood of the sound, is jerky/bouncy/shaky...It is not just about the timing gaps/differences only." Momoya is surprised and Chika looks at him seriously and asks "You understand what I'm saying, right?" Momoya thinks about it, then peeks at Atsumu for a bit (Atsumu notices this. I think he understands that the issue is with his playing.) and Momoya thinks "This is bad..." to himself.

Atsumu asks him directly "Is it me?" and Momoya tries to say no but he remembers Kota saying that it is okay to not hesitate and tell them things honestly. Atsumu seriously tells him "Say it." Momoya is shocked and Atsumu continues to say "If there is anything, say it/tell me." Momoya tells him "Yoshinaga's sound is floating. The sound quality doesn't match the surroundings/other sounds. It's probably the reason why the atmosphere/mood of the sound is jerky/shaky." (referring to how Chika described it before.)

Kota asks how exactly can you match sound quality and Momoya answers that it is not really simple/easy to match sound quality that's why he didn't want to say something. If it was a strength or technical problem, you could do something about it. But, sound quality is more fundamental.

Chika asks "Why is Yoshinaga the only one with a different sound quality? What if he changes/replaces his Koto?" Chika and Kota continue on talking about this matter but as they are discussing, Atsumu is not really listening. In his mind, he is thinking "Why is that? Why am I the only one different from the others?" He looks at his hand wearing the rounded nails. He remembers Takezou-senpai saying "We are from the Ikuta style. We use this kind of square nails." Then he remembers his Grandpa's smiling face and him saying his name "Atsumu!"

Atsumu looks really sad after that. The closing remarks are "The only bond with my late grandfather..."

So basically, Atsumu's style of playing and sound is a bit different from everyone else's. But he loves his grandpa and his music so it'll be hard to make changes to that. I say that they should ask Suzuka and Akira-sensei about this. I'm not really musically talented so I don't know how to fix it (even Momoya doesn't know and he's super talented) but I doubt that Suzuka-sensei will ask Atsumu to change his playing style. He probably knows a thing or two about incorporating different styles to make it better.

Shout out to our boy Momoya for being honest this time (though he needed a lot of convincing. His hesitation comes from a place of caring. T_T)

No romantic moments for the main couples this chapter. Boohooo! (Oh! Well... There was a lot from Momoya and Atsumu! ^_^)

Onto the next chapter... Thanks.

#Kono Oto Tomare!#KOT #Kono Oto Tomare #Kono Oto Tomare Summary #この音とまれ #この音とまれ！

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eldri-sv · 4 years ago

Text

6 - Aizawa

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people's minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa's TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country... AU, OC x Aizawa

Trigger warnings: mentions of murder

(possibly incomplete, if you’d like something added, please let me know)

Though I know it must be the killing time

(Echo & the Bunnymen - The Killing Moon)

Shouta Aizawa was waiting for Kaori Shinsou in front of her house. He was early to pick her up, so he wasn't too bothered to be waiting for a little while. He was leaning against his car, enjoying the sun. It had finally stopped raining and the sun thankfully wasn't too strong yet, so it was just right to be outside.

He eyed up the pack of cigarettes that were on top of the dashboard. Aizawa used to smoke quite a lot, but had slowly gotten used to smoking less and less. These days he would only have a cigarette when he felt extraordinarily nervous. And right now, he wasn't outright nervous, but he felt uneasy. There really was no reason for that and that's what worried him. If he had learned one thing while he was working as a profiler, it was that he should be trusting his gut feeling.

Something about the whole day seemed off and he couldn't put his finger on what it was. There was nothing wrong. It was a calm day, except for quite a few incidents around town that needed to get resolved today. None of them really concerned him in any way, though. Maybe it had to do with the lockdown yesterday.

The press had managed to get onto the campus somehow and it had taken hours to take down all their details and send them off. There would be some hefty fines for trespassing coming to them soon, but thankfully nothing serious happened. Except for people being able to get through the tight security at U.A.

It was Yagi's fault, really. Shouta Aizawa would never understand why some people working on the more difficult and high profile cases were so happy to be talking to the press and to be on talk shows, give interviews and whatnot. To him, it was dumb. They were all already putting their lives on the line, working on these cases. Why would anyone try and draw even more attention to themselves? To make it easier for the bad guys? To cause a fuss wherever they went? It was dumb.

"And do the fucking dishes this time, Toshi, I'm not going to do your chores ever again, so you won't get into trouble!" Aizawa heard someone shouting from the house. He looked up, glad to have a distraction from the cigarettes.

Kaori Shinsou was slamming the door shut and walked up to him, shaking her head. She hadn't seen him yet, she probably wasn't aware that he was there. She was wearing a pair of black chinos and a dark red turtleneck. Her hair was tied up into a tight bun, but Aizawa knew it would fall apart within an hour.

"Morning, Shinsou." he said to her, as she was climbing over the gate leading up to her home. She looked up and immediately blushed a little. Aizawa knew that she was fully aware of it, but she did her best to play it off. She finished climbing over the gate (because opening it would have been too easy?) and gave him a smug smile, while her cheeks were slowly turning back to her usual skin colour.

"Good morning, Mr. Aizawa. Sorry, I had to talk about something with my brother before I left the house, he can be really lazy sometimes. I hope I'm not late..." she replied. Aizawa was impressed by her not being flustered at all.

"It's fine. You're early. Let's go." he said to her and walked around the car to get into the driver's seat. He really didn't know why he offered to give her a lift to the Rescue Training Facility. He hated having other people as passengers, mostly because he didn't like entertaining others. He always felt uncomfortable being around most people, because he just didn't know what the hell to do with them.

Kaori Shinsou quickly got into her seat, closed the door and put on her seatbelt without much of a fuss. She held up some papers that were on her seat. Aizawa had almost forgotten about them, but he couldn't really do anything about it now. Anyway, there were some papers for Shinsou in there.

"Sir, what do you want me to do with that?" Shinsou asked.

"Just put them on the backseat or something... Actually, you can look through them, the forms for your TA application are in there somewhere. You can get them and fill them out while we get to the facility, just put the rest on the backseat." he replied and fully focussed on the road again.

Or he at least tried to. He really shouldn't have left all those files on the seat. There was some sensitive information in there. The only reason he let Shinsou look through it freely was because he trusted her not to do anything stupid with what she found. He knew he really shouldn't be trusting anyone, but Shinsou... she was brilliant. Just a few days ago he had almost considered showing her those files anyway.

She was still looking through the files gathering up the papers that she needed. Aizawa mentally scolded himself for getting all of that mixed up. She really shouldn't be seeing that other stuff, especially since her eyes seemed to linger on the pages for longer than he would have liked.

"I... I think I have them all." she finally said and gathered up the other files she wasn't supposed to see. She leaned back and carefully placed them on the backseat, the empty side up, so no one looking in could see anything. So she really did know how confidential and important those were. Good girl.

When she turned back, her hand brushed against Aizawa's shoulder. She smelled like she had been bathing in coffee. He wasn't surprised. Not with how tired she always looked. Sometimes Aizawa wondered if she ever got any sleep at all. She wasn't collapsing, so she had to get some sleep, but it was definitely not much.

Aizawa wanted to focus on the road, he really did, but he ended up watching her take a pen out of her bag and starting to fill out the papers quickly in neat and small letters. Shinsou's handwriting looked as if it was printed, always neat and orderly. He had never seen any of her work look sloppy.

"Okay... I think that's all. Will I put those papers on the back seat, too?" she asked after a while. They had almost arrived at the facility. Aizawa nodded.

"Sure. Go ahead, that way they won't get lost at least." he replied. She nodded in agreement and placed them on the backseat on top of his work files. She looked at them for a little longer than he would have liked.

"Sir, those other files... I wasn't supposed to see them, right?" she asked as she turned back to the front. Aizawa gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"No, that was my mistake. I shouldn't have had them here in the first place. I fully trust that you'll treat whatever you saw as strictly confidential. If anything gets out to anyone, you're going to be my prime suspect." he explained.

"I understand. May... may I ask something, though?"

"You're going to ask anyway, aren't you?"

"Those were letters from Stain, right? And there was one new one that hasn't been published in the news yet. I know there was one that I hadn't seen yet and I follow the case closely. And I know you're working on it."

Aizawa didn't say anything. He really couldn't. Not only because Shinsou should never, ever and under no circumstances have seen that sort of inside information, but also because he still didn't know. At the moment he could neither deny nor confirm whether that new Stain letter was authentic. And as much as he would have liked Kaori Shinsou's input on the issue, it simply wouldn't fly.

Maybe he'd let her have a look at them if he got really desperate, but right now he was still waiting on an analysis from the graphology department. That would hopefully give him a clear answer on whether that new letter was Stain's doing or not. There had been a lot of letters that were simply copy cat letters, since Stain had started involving the press. Some were faked really well.

"Sir? I know you probably aren't allowed to tell me, but... that letter looked pretty real. It seemed to be the same type of pen as the other letters. Same colour, too. Same weird capitalizations..."

Aizawa stopped the car and looked at Shinsou. She had this intense glow in her eyes. It was the same glow he had when Aizawa was presenting the class with a made-up case where they had to profile the perpetrator. This girl had a passion for murder. For getting into the minds of people.

"I can't tell you anything. I'm sorry." he said. And he was. He was genuinely sorry. He would have liked to hear her thoughts, but those files? They were confidential for a reason and they should stay that way.

"I understand. Uhm... why did you stop the car?" she asked.

"We're here."

"Oh. Right." she said and unfastened her seat belt. She got out of the car and stood outside waiting for Aizawa. She looked nervous. Aizawa sighed and rubbed his temples. He still felt uneasy about the whole day. What the hell.

With a sigh he got out of the car and locked the doors. Shinsou was waiting for him, blinking against the sun that was shining in her eyes. She seemed to be a little insecure about the prospect of having to interact with first years. Aizawa felt much the same half the time. At least he had the advantage of his position as a professor.

Aizawa glanced over at the facility entrance. Most of his students seemed to have already made it. He checked his watch quickly and realized that they were just on time. He sighed. Might as well use the time and introduce Shinsou to the class.

"Come on. I think most of them are here already." he said. Shinsou nodded and followed him without a word. Aizawa noticed that she moved extremely quietly. She barely made a sound when she was walking over the gravel.

"Oh look, it's Mr. Aizawa!" one girl with short, pastel pink hair exclaimed and the rest of the students turned around, some of them waving at us. Aizawa was pretty sure that the girl's name was Ashido, but he hadn't been responsible for this class for long enough to be absolutely sure.

"Good morning, everyone. Anyone missing?" he asked them.

"I think Kaminari and Mineta are running late." a boy called Midoriya said. He had dark, fluffy hair that was long enough to start curling.

"Alright. I'll just go ahead and hope they'll arrive in time. As I've already told you, you'll have three instructors for today - me, Toshinori Yagi and our traumatology expert on campus. We'll also have my third year student with us. Her name is Kaori Shinsou and she'll be my TA from next term on so she'll have a chance to see what she's dealing with at that time. She'll be here today just to observe. Any questions?" Aizawa said. He saw how Shinsou was nervously playing with her sleeves. She didn't seem to like to have so much attention on her all at once.

"Alright, fine, seems there are no questions, let's head inside." Aizawa told them, just as he saw two figures approaching. One was tall and had blond hair, the other one was considerably smaller.

"Kaminari, Mineta, you two better hurry up or we'll lock you out and you'll have to repeat this thing next year. If you'll even make it to next year." he shouted at them and they started jogging faster to catch up with the group. Aizawa waited with Shinsou until all of them were inside and then closed the doors behind them. He walked up to the front of the class, Shinsou following with a bit of distance.

"Morning, Anakuro. Class is all yours." he mumbled and leaned against one of the walls. Something still felt off and Aizawa didn't like it one bit. His eyes carefully wandered over the facility.

"Hello, everyone. I've been waiting for you!" Anakuro Hirooki said to the class, expertly ignoring Aizawa's indifference to what she was saying to his class. The kids seemed to be happy enough looking at all of the stuff that was around. There were a lot of different environments simulated in this facility - shipwrecks, landslides, fires, storms - whatever one could think of.

"We're here today to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters and difficult terrains. I'm really excited to do this training with you today!" Anakuro announced with a big smile on her face. Aizawa noticed something else that bugged him. He walked away from his wall and went up to Anakuro.

"Hey, shouldn't Yagi be here already? Let me guess, he went to an interview instead." he said to her. Anakuro's smile faded and she came up closer to him.

"Actually, it's something else."

"Huh?"

"Apparently, he got caught up in some incident at work this morning and can't make it anymore. I think he's still busy either at the scene or with paperwork. He said he'll try to make it before the session ends." Anakuro explained. Aizawa rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration.

"That man is the height of irresponsibility." he commented, consciously ignoring the fact that he had just left extremely confidential files in his car where anyone smart enough to break a window could steal them. And a lot of people were smart enough to break the window of a car.

Well, we should be fine with just the two of us. If we need any extra help, I guess Shinsou can help out. He looked at the students. They all probably had been looking forward to working with the famous Toshinori Yagi. Well, too bad.

"The clock's ticking. We should get started." Aizawa said and went back to his wall, still trying to figure out why the hell he was feeling so uneasy all day.

"Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing. Well, maybe two things, possibly three, four, five..."

"We get it!" one guy in the group said. Judging from the voice Aizawa guessed it was Bakugou. The kid could be a right pain, but he knew from the start he wanted to become a specialist for the bomb squad and if anyone was suitable, it was him.

"Listen carefully! I'm sure you're all excited to get out there and start the training. You should have learned a lot of basics in your classes, when it comes to first aid, securing certain areas and so on. You also all had lots of fitness tests and should know your own limits. Whatever you do today, make sure you do it safely and you don't overexert yourselves. You won't be much use helping other people if you're the ones needing help. Always keep that in mind. That's all I wanted to say. Thank you so much for listening." Anakuro finished with a bow. The students all looked really excited and clapped.

"Right. Now that that's over, form groups of three or four and head into one of the zones each. I'm not going to tell you where to go, you're adults and you can figure this out by yourselves." Aizawa said. Something still felt off. He had noticed some lights flickering earlier and he had seen some of the volunteers who were here to act as victims and one or two seemed strangely familiar.

Something was going on and it made Aizawa even more nervous that he didn't know what it was. He should have had that cigarette earlier.

#inside your mind #aizawa #aizawa fanfiction #fanfiction #aizawa x oc #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #quirklessau #mentions of murder

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byuneebuns · 5 years ago

Text

Calluna

Minhyuk x Reader Supernatural AU

Tags: Fluff, Oneshot, Witch AU, Supernatural AU

Author’s Note: I wrote this in July of 2018, right before I saw Monsta X in SF, and it has been sitting in my drafts since then. I just re-worked it a little and I think it’s finally ready to let it see the light of day. I hope someone out there enjoys it. ♡

A large plume of dense magenta smoke was billowing from your cauldron, smelling strongly of pine needles. You fanned at it eagerly, trying to ignore the dread creeping into the pit of your stomach as you recoiled from the pungent odor.

‘Pine needles? Isn’t it supposed to smell like flowers....?’ You thought to yourself as you glanced at the open spellbook by your side for confirmation.

The jewel-tone clouds finally started to dissipate and you chewed on your lower lip as you peered nervously into the depths of your cauldron, silently praying your hard work hadn’t been been for naught.

In the bottom of the large metal bowl was a substance reminiscent of tar in both consistency and color, bubbling ominously.

“No, no. This isn’t right at all.” You muttered darkly to yourself, your fingernails digging grooves into your palms from how tightly your fists were clenched with frustration.

This was your third attempt at a particularly complex potion to mimic feelings of love and you were at your wit’s end trying to figure out what exactly you were doing wrong.

This wasn’t a love potion in the sense that it made someone else fall in love with you: It was a potion that made you feel all of the warmth, the fullness, the contentedness of loving and being loved in return. It was happiness in a bottle, so to speak, and much like the feeling was difficult to describe so was it to replicate.

You squinted at the narrow, cramped cursive text that covered the pages of your spellbook, wishing for the thousandth time that your late Aunt hadn’t been so hasty when recording her creations. Her handwriting was illegible at best, and most of her homegrown spell instructions were riddled with scribbles and footnotes that contradicted each other.

“It must be nice to be a genius.” You sighed to yourself, closing the textbook and staring wistfully at the ceiling. A small wreath, only about three inches in diameter, of smooth wood and white heather swayed from a long string attached to the low ceiling beams of your small cabin, almost playfully teasing you. It was her last parting gift to you before she left you alone in the world. It had been a year since she passed away but the heather had never yet wilted, something you were certain she’d accomplished with her powerful magic. You’d never gotten to ask the meaning behind the wreath but you could sense that it was important in some way you’d yet to comprehend.

Your parents had died from illness when you were too young to know them, leaving you alone with your mother’s much, much older sister. She’d raised you as her own and although you knew she was no spring chicken you were still extremely unprepared when she told you that the end was coming. She went peacefully in her sleep but it never felt like she’d truly left you, so you managed to avoid feeling too lonely.

“Auntie, couldn’t you have bought a typewriter? I can’t read this, and what I can read doesn’t make sense. Now I have to go out again.” You whined at the charm, receiving only taunting silence in reply.

You groaned again, pulling on your boots and cloak and trudging out of the cabin with a final sigh.

Your feet carried you towards the tree line of the forest you called home. Your cabin sat in a wide field that was dotted with wildflowers and surrounded by trees that seemed tall enough to touch the clouds in the bright blue sky above them. Your Auntie had always told you that a witch belonged in nature, but that it should be revered and respected. Nothing more than was needed should be taken, partly because wastefulness is considered evil, but mostly for fear of angering the protective spirits of the wood. They never showed themselves to others but you could feel their presence all around you, watching your every move from somewhere just out of sight, as soon as you stepped in their territory.

Your caretaker had been much more well-acquainted with the wood than you were. You had spent plenty of time playing there as a child, but she often ventured into them alone when you were young, leaving for hours at a time without explanation. You suspected that she was practicing advanced magic in private that she didn’t want you trying to copy. You never dared to follow her, knowing that she would catch you immediately and not wanting to suffer the consequences of your curiosity, but you’d always hoped that someday she would deem you worthy to accompany her. She’d kept so many secrets from you until her last breath, which you routinely tried not to let eat a hole in your heart. She had her reasons and they were her’s alone.

Your feet slowly made their way along the soft, mossy earth, your arms swinging freely at your sides, a small smile playing on your full lips. You felt so blessed to get to live somewhere so breathtakingly beautiful. The trees were so thick that only small, green-tinged rays of the sun were freckling the forest floor. You were so relaxed in the silent woods that you failed to notice the pair of eyes following you closely as you journeyed on.

You finally reached your destination, a tiny clearing in the woods with herbs and berries of differing varieties as far as the eye could see. You’d been fortunate enough to locate the little sanctuary not long after your Aunt passed and it had since become a beloved destination for you to find peace in solitude, ingredients for meals, and supplies for spells. It was, needless to say, an important place for you both in terms of your survival but also your spirit.

You knelt down, carefully picking stalks of herbs and collecting berries in your basket. You left a small cloth bundle, tied tight with a ribbon, on the ground nearby. This was almost certainly a garden being cultivated with the magic of forest spirits, so it was only polite to leave an offering as payment.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” A disparaging voice suddenly called over your shoulder.

You spun around and stumbled backwards in shock, tripping over an exposed root and crawling backwards on your hands, ignoring the stinging pain in your ankle.

A tall, thin man towered over you, watching you with thinly veiled amusement. He took a step towards you and you gasped, scrambling backwards into a bush as you desperately tried to put more distance between the two of you.

The stranger bent down on one knee and plucked your offering from the ground, untying the ribbon with nimble fingers, and pulled a sour face at the contents.

“It always has cucumber, why can’t they just be normal?” He grumbled, pinching the tiny sandwich between his forefinger and his thumb, a pout blooming spectacularly on his mouth and marring his elegant features.

Now that his attention was directed elsewhere you were able to get a proper look at him. He looked to be about your age, maybe a few years older, had a thin frame with broad shoulders and otherwise even proportions and was deceptively muscular. He had delicate cat-like features with high cheekbones, his face promising mischief. Straight brows hovered over almond-shaped eyes with glittering black irises, and a small, straight nose with thin lips and a sharp jaw. His hair was the color of fresh snow, messy and sticking up oddly in places, and upon closer inspection seemed to have some small leaves and twigs tangled in it.

In fact, the closer you looked at him the more wild he appeared. There were smears of dirt on his arms and face and his shirt was torn in strange places, like he’d fist fought with a thorn bush and lost badly. His pants were worn and had large grass stains at the knees. He looked like he hadn’t seen a proper bed or bath in ages.

Despite his forlorn appearance, he was truly stunning.

He turned to you with a scowl.

“Don’t you know how to make anything else?”

Your initial shock having subsided, you felt yourself practically swelling with indignation.

“I can, thank you very much. And those aren’t for you anyways, they’re an offering for the forest spirits.” You huffed, crawling forward gingerly on scuffed hands and knees to snatch the container from his ungrateful hands.

He looked at you incredulously before tipping his head back and laughing, earning another look of apprehension from you.

“Well the forest rejects your offering. Come back with something tastier.” He said, taking your basket from your unsuspecting grip.

“H-hey!”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief as you watched the man replacing everything you’d carefully collected in its original place.

A lunatic.

There was no other explanation. He was a lunatic.

“Excuse me, but what gives you the right to decide my offering isn’t good enough?” You spat, trying and failing to get past him to retrieve your belongings.

“No one needs to give me the right to decide what I will and won’t accept.” He replied haughtily, tossing your now-empty basket in your lap.

You glowered at each other for a few terse moments before you burst into hollow laughter.

“What is so funny?” The man’s arms were folded across his chest now, his pout returning in full force.

You stopped laughing when you saw how serious your companion was.

“Are you really trying to tell me that you’re some kind of forest spirit?” You said, your voice deadpan to emphasize your disbelief.

“I prefer nymph since I have a physical form, and my name is Minhyuk.” He said matter-of-factly, watching you with tense, wary eyes.

You blinked once, twice, three times before speaking.

“You’re really...a nymph?” You asked, feeling every bit as stupid as you doubtlessly sounded.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m an elk.”

Your cheeks colored with humorless embarrassment. You’d always imagined forest nymphs to be more...fairly-like? Small and playful, happy creatures, perhaps with little translucent wings. Not like this...sassy man that was eating the berries you’d planned on taking with you, his expression surly.

“So...you really won’t let me take anything unless I bring you something else?” You asked, your disbelief evident in your tone.

“Oh, you’re still here? I hadn’t noticed. A blueberry pie sounds nice. The old lady used to bring them every so often, so I’m sure that you have a recipe somewhere.” He said in between mouthfuls, ignoring your visible annoyance.

“Until then I guess you’ll have to find somewhere else to forage seeing as this is my house you’re in.”

“Wait, what about an old lady?” You asked, brow furrowing with confusion.

“Don’t you have a pie to bake?” Minhyuk stood, clearly signaling that your conversation was over.

“I’m not making you a pie, you brat!”

“Then I guess you won’t be making much else, either.”

The sight of his parting smirk would haunt you for days to come.

***

“Stupid nymph.” You hissed before you stuck your thumb in your mouth to nurse the bead of your cherry-red blood that was forming on the fingertip. You glared at the bush you’d been foraging through, unsure if your irritation was from your finger being pricked or from your lack of success.

You’d been desperately trying to find high quality ingredients elsewhere for nearly a week but suddenly it was as if they were scarce, or worse, ceased to exist. The tiny garden, however, remained a treasure trove of wildlife, mocking you and your inability to access it without being accosted by an overly large child. You had no trouble finding an abundance of blueberries wherever you looked, though.

You had every reason to suspect that this was Minhyuk’s doing. Of course you couldn’t really confirm it was anything more than bad luck but you could have sworn that you heard him snickering each time you found nothing and grew more frustrated.

“I’m losing my mind.” You sighed, tugging your hair at the root.

“You’ll go bald if that’s how you cope with stress.” A smug voice from over your shoulder commented.

“You-” You spun around, tripping over your feet in your haste. You tottered forward, swinging your arms to try and break your fall. Minhyuk’s surprised face was the last thing you saw before you fell into something solid, something that was very obviously not dirt.

Minhyuk’s firm hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back into a standing position an arm’s length away, his dirty cheeks flushed a dusty rose.

“Ugh, its you. Why am I always falling when you’re around?” You grumbled, your former ire returning after the shock of his sudden appearance faded.

“I can’t help it if you’re falling for me.” He replied with a self-assured smirk and a shrug.

“Would literally rather dive naked into a pit of poison ivy.”

“That can be arranged. Why are you wasting time here anyway? Shouldn’t you be baking?”

“I already told you, I’m not making anything for a brat like you.” You snapped, crossing your arms with finality.

“Guess you’ll have to give up whatever experiment you’re working on then. You won’t harvest anything here without my blessing.”

So he was behind this after all. True to his word, you hadn’t been able to forage anything at all since your last meeting.

You fumed, turning over your options in your head. As much as you couldn’t stand Minhyuk it surely would be less effort to bake for him than it would be to try and find a new place to gather, wouldn’t it? Every fiber of your being was revolting against you as you considered this, screaming that it was the principle of the matter and you shouldn’t submit to such an arbitrary demand, but logic slowly won out.

“Fine. But you’re helping me.”

***

“I do hope that you’re better at magic than you are at baking.”

“I would be done already if you just let me use my magic to begin with!” You practically shouted. Your appearance mirrored your companion’s, your faces and clothing speckled with flour. Your hands were stained blue and your failed attempt at crafting a blueberry pie by hand sat ominously on the windowsill where it was cooling.

“It tastes funny if you don’t make it by hand. Nymphs can’t tell lies, you know, so trust me on this. It isn’t the same.” Minhyuk grumbled, his nose wrinkling with the depth of his pout.

“How many people are honestly bringing you pies for you to claim to know the difference?” You whined, but you were met with silence instead of the snarky reply you’d come to expect. You couldn’t help recalling having a similar argument with your Aunt in your youth. She, too, had always insisted that food tasted better when made with powers of the heart rather than with magic.

You turned your back on the oven and found Minhyuk eyeing your ceiling with a somber expression on his face.

“Um...are you okay?”

His snapped towards at an alarming rate, his features carefully rearranging into their default expression of haughtiness.

“I’m fine. Just wondering if you’re polite enough to make sure that thing isn’t poisonous before you try to feed it to me.”

You stuck your tongue out in response but your eyes wandered to where his had been fixed moments before, and you felt a curious sensation in the pit of your stomach when they found the white heather wreath swaying peacefully exactly where Minhyuk had been staring so intently.

“You were looking at that.” Your finger pointed at the wreath, your voice questioning even though you’d made a statement.

Minhyuk watched at you, momentarily stricken silent, his eyes searching yours for something unknown.

“So what if I was?” He challenged, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know something about it? Its a token my Aunt left me.” You asked tentatively, watching Minhyuk’s face closely.

“So what if I do?” He countered with a stony voice, his shoulders squared.

“Can you please tell me more about it?” You could feel your hands starting to shake with emotion.

“Do you know what white heather symbolizes?” He asked slowly, after some consideration.

You shook your head in reply.

“Protection and the granting of wishes. One of her final living acts was to make that for you. It takes an incredible amount of power to craft an undying flower for someone not innately attuned to nature. She was very talented. She loved you very much.” He explained, his voice soft, his eyes seeking out the wreath again rather than you.

“How do you know that?” You breathed, your voice quietly shaking from the tears you were trying to swallow.

“I helped her make it. Did you never wonder what she spent so much time doing alone in the woods? I met your Aunt when I was still small. I still remember the day that she brought you home. She was so enamored with you. She tried many times to get me to leave the forest and meet you, but I refused.”

You watched a small, sad smile curl Minhyuk’s lips upwards ever so slightly, bringing a pang to your heart as you quietly waited for him to continue.

“She still made time to visit me even though she was busy with you. It was hard at first and I was jealous, it gets lonely in the forest, but I managed. She would come and talk to me for hours, show me spells of her own design, bring me all kinds of food, ask me how the plants were doing, and I would show her some magic of my own. Nymphs are not very different from witches, you know. We both use magic, just of a different variety. We commune directly with the spirit of nature and create, where as you create based on things that we’ve already made. Yeah, your aunt didn’t much care for that observation either.” Minhyuk laughed loudly at your disgruntled expression, but his eyes were soft and kind as he reminisced on his past, making him even more beautiful to behold. His laughter slowly died out, giving way for the sadness to creep back into his eyes as he looked to the ceiling again.

“When she knew that she was dying...she came to me and asked how to create life. I refused at first, afraid that it was too ambitious for her frail form, afraid it would harm her, afraid of what she wanted to accomplish...but she was relentless. She came every single day and begged. When I finally asked her why, her answer was simple: for you. She wanted to show you that she was always with you. So I showed her, and of course she was eventually successful. She asked me to watch over you but...I still couldn’t bring myself to meet you. So instead I made that garden and I’ve been maintaining it ever since.”

Minhyuk ended his story with a deep sigh, sounding as if a great weight had been lifted from him, and finally returned his gaze to you. Your breath caught when he took a step forward and extended a hand towards you, using the tips of his fingers to brush away the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks unbeknownst to you.

“Why did you wait until now to reveal yourself to me? You’ve really been watching me all this time?” You whispered, your voice cracking.

“I had no choice when you started only leaving offerings with cucumber in them. I can’t eat cucumbers, they’re too disgusting. And because...because she always wanted me to be your friend. You such were an ugly, loud, mud-covered brat when you were young but you’re...different now. So I thought I should grant her wish after all.” A deep crimson blush, made even more vibrant in contrast to his snowy hair, blossomed across his cheeks. It must have been contagious, because you could feel heat rising on your face as well.

“W-what do you mean I was an ugly brat?! I was a normal child.” You blurted out with indignation.

“No, you were gross, just like that poor excuse for a pie.” He answered, his sassy attitude returning despite the lingering pink tinge of his cheeks.

You took the insult in stride, choosing to ignore it rather than start another battle of wits that you were sure to lose.

“You said that you were lonely. Where are the other nymphs?”

“They’re all spirits now. When a nymph comes of age they can choose to keep their corporeal form or they can become spirits. Most choose to become spirits because, I mean, you’re becoming one with nature and what more could you want than that? We aren’t born very often so it makes for a lonely childhood, which is another compelling argument for choosing a spirit form- you’re never technically alone again. I chose to stay in this body.” He finished matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“I loved the old lady. I didn’t want to leave her. She asked me to watch over you for her and I wouldn’t want to leave you either. Even if you were a snot-nosed brat.”

“Well, you know they say that the ugliest ducklings are destined to become the most beautiful swans, so I’ll thank you for thinking so highly of me.” You teased, tapping Minhyuk’s nose with your finger playfully.

To your general astonishment his saturated blush from before returned.

“I never called you beautiful.” He stammered, looking away from you.

“But, do you think I’m beautiful? Nymphs can’t lie, right?” You asked, smirking as you peered at him, trying to get a better look at his face.

“No, nymphs can’t lie. And yes, I do think you’re very, very beautiful.” He whispered, still refusing to meet your eyes.

It was your turn for your face to glow like a sunset. You’d asked, expecting a snarky answer, not fully believing what he’d said previously about nymphs being bound to their honesty. Your lips formed a small, wordless “oh” as you stared at him, awestruck.

“You’re still a terrible baker though, so don’t let it go to your head.”

***

You pulled the oven door open with apprehension, bracing yourself for another failure, and gasped loudly when instead your eyes fell on what appeared to be a flawless blueberry pie.

You bounced on the balls of your heels excitedly before carefully extracting the dessert from the oven and placing it on the windowsill to cool where you could admire it safely from afar.

“Ahh, I can’t wait to show Minhyuk!” You squealed, clapping your hands together.

“Can’t wait to show me what?”

You whirled around, more shocked than you perhaps should have been to find Minhyuk leaning against your doorframe.

In the weeks that had passed since he shared his stories about your Aunt with you he had been a near constant presence in your home, always making stupid excuses for why he’s there like “I’m just making sure you aren’t hiding any cucumber in my pie”. You had offered to let him stay over since you felt a little bad for him sleeping in the outdoors alone, but he always shyly declined.

“Come, look!” You were already dragging him by the hand to the window to show him your handiwork.

“Wow, that doesn’t look half bad.” He whistled, eyeing it with great interest, eyes sparkling. He took a step towards it, arm outstretched, earning a whack on the shoulder from you.

“It isn’t ready yet! It still has to cool or you’ll burn yourself.” You chastised, moving protectively in front of your masterpiece, hands on your hips.

“Okay, fine, fine.” Minhyuk said, massaging his shoulder with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other.

“Sleepy?”

He nodded, swallowing another yawn behind his large palm.

“Its getting harder to sleep outside at night these days. Getting cold. I heard that long ago, when humans were less prevalent on Earth, it was more common for nymphs to choose to keep their physical forms. I always wonder what they did to keep warm.”

“Why don’t you take a nap while the pie cools? After you eat maybe we can think of some solutions for that.”

Minhyuk nodded, too exhausted to argue. He refused to be led to the bed though, insisting instead to sit next to you on the couch and sleep sitting up.

His resistance didn’t last. Before long he slumped to his side, his head tumbling into your lap. You caught your gasp in your hand, stifling it and carefully setting down the spellbook you’d been perusing while he napped so your movements wouldn’t disturb him while he slumbered.

You watched him sleep, oddly comfortable despite the slight awkwardness of his face pressed into your bare thighs. Without thinking your hand found his hair, smoothing it gently, relishing in how impossibly silken it was, your fingers gliding through the soft strands like they were water.

Minhyuk’s eyes shot open and you went to pull your hand away, embarrassed, but he caught it in his, holding you firmly in place as he adjusted himself so he was facing you. He stared up at you, blinking the sleep from his eyes, not speaking or removing his head from your legs.

“I-I think the pie should be ready by now,” You supplied after several long moments of silence, hoping to diffuse the tension in the air. “Why don’t we go get some?”

Minhyuk didn’t move immediately and something in his expression was making you feel like you were frozen in place, like he was seeing right through you and counting each of your racing heart beats in slow motion.

He finally lifted himself from your lap and quietly made his way to the kitchen and sat at the dinner table, waiting expectantly. You retrieved the pie, regretting that you hadn’t tried it yourself first as you cut a generous piece for him and slid it on a plate. You were silently praying to anyone that would listen that it would taste as good as it looked.

To your surprise Minhyuk didn’t hesitate to pile his fork with the pastry and bring it to his waiting mouth. You had expected him to make some catty remark about you trying the first bite, or taking a tiny bite “just in case”.

‘He must really be exhausted if he’s being so docile.’ You thought to yourself as you watched him chew with bated breath.

When he swallowed you swallowed with him out of nerves. The seconds of silence seemed like they stretched into hours as you waited for his reaction, but it never came. Instead he simply loaded up his fork again and took another bite, closing his eyes while he chewed. He continued like this until his plate was as clean as when you’d taken it out of the cabinet.

“Well? How was it?” You finally inquired, unable to contain yourself any longer, your nervousness making your voice come out in a higher pitch than normal.

Minhyuk stood, the sound of the chair scraping the floor making you jump, and moved towards you as if in a daze.

When his lips met yours, they tasted strongly of blueberry and sugar. You were too surprised to move at first but the ice around you slowly melted as he held you and your arms slowly circled his waist as your lips molded to his, your eyes fluttering closed.

His hands crept down your waist, gripping your hips firmly as he deepened the kiss. You felt your legs starting to wobble while he explored your mouth, the sweet taste of sugar and fruit on his tongue overwhelming your senses. His hold on you was all that was keeping you upright and you were starting to wonder if this was going to be the way you died, in the arms of a beautiful man without a breath of air left in your lungs, when he pulled away at last, chest heaving while you both struggled to catch your breath.

Minhyuk leaned forward, kissing your forehead softly in stark contrast to the heated one he’d pressed to your lips moments ago.

“It was wonderful.” He whispered, his lips moving against your forehead as they formed his words. He took a step back, his eyes overflowing with affection, and moved past you and out of the room. You followed him as he stumbled into your room, his exhaustion evidently taking over as he collapsed into your bed face first.

The deep breaths he was taking were confirmation enough that he had fallen asleep. You smiled tenderly as you looked down at his sleeping form fondly. Warmth bubbled up from the very tips of your toes, spreading throughout your body in a wave, making you feel impossibly at peace. You sighed through your nose, contented. Seeing him sleeping in your bed just felt so...right.

You padded back to the kitchen as slowly and silently as you could muster so as not to disturb your slumbering guest. You moved to cover the remaining pie and put it in the refrigerator for later, but stilled as something odd caught your attention from the corner of your eye.

Your cauldron, which you’d abandoned with your last failed experiment still stuck like cement to the bottom of it, was bubbling merrily. You rushed over, panic-stricken, and gasped when your nose was assaulted with the scent of fresh florals. The failed potion from before had sprung to life, it’s contents now a color that reminded you of Minhyuk’s hair, a comparison that made your cheeks flush involuntarily.

Then, as if you were struck by lighting, you were rooted to where you stood with the gears in your mind turning faster than you could comprehend. You glanced back at the sleeping nymph, realization finally dawning on you. A soft gasp slipped through your lips and the rosy color on your face deepened to a blazing scarlet.

You tentatively dipped a ladle into the concoction, sniffing its contents gingerly before taking a hesitant sip. Your eyes squeezed shut, a smile winding its way through your lips. You’d finally done it. You laughed to yourself at the irony of the situation, your eyes settling on the heather wreath swaying delicately in the breeze from the open window.

You’d been trying to all this time to create something that you were lacking when the ingredient you needed was what you were missing all along.

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lucindarobinsonvevo · 4 years ago

Photo

This week, a record made and released by close collaborators Eerie, Indiana and Heart on a Chain received a re-release with a deluxe edition to celebrate its 20th birthday

Though the front cover of Marshall’s Theory of Believably, the joint album by bands Eerie, Indiana and Heart on a Chain names only those two bands, the project was a collaboration between all the members of the Indiana seven. The Indiana Seven were a close group of collaborators who had a close working relationship in the 90s, creating iconic tracks and albums. The cover, which depicts a lone man in a ghost costume was shot by Sara Sue, an artist/photographer who shot most of the Eerie, Indiana’s album covers, and a track labeled ‘we gave this track to Tod’ features the enigmatic artist known as Tod, who also helped on the band’s delayed record Broken Record. The album art is different from the works of both bands, with Eerie, Indiana frequently having a sort of DIY feel to their photoshoots and Heart on a Chain tending to the more abstract kind. These particular photos (remastered for the deluxe edition) depict various band members in the dessert wearing a sheet over their heads with large black eye holes. The cover is Holmes, peering from behind a large unlit bonfire at the viewer. The title is written in the handwriting of Janet Donner, who also features as the figure on the CD itself. Teller features on the back of the album, and the back page of the liner notes, waving goodbye. Inside the liner, there are images of X, with Monroe being absent, apparently due to having a broken leg at the time of the shoot following an incident at a waterpark.

The album features twelve tracks, with many of them focusing on the idea of cryptids and other mysterious entities to make up the metaphors of the song. On the idea for the Album, Donner said: We wanted to talk about love as we knew it. This broad, mysterious concept that so many people in their twenties make love out to be.” On what she thinks of love now, Donner then remarked: Love is being glad the world hasn’t ended yet. I’ll leave you to make of that what you will. On the album, both X and Teller have cited the other as an inspiration behind the tracks, which will not come as a surprise to anyone who frequently listens to Eerie, Indiana as the pairs sometimes tumultuous relationship is often at the center of the most controversial and interesting projects done by the band. But this album is, more than anything else, a happy one.

The first single released from this album was the track ‘Sometimes I Almost Miss You’ in the one-two punch style of Eerie, Indiana the track is titled like a break-up but is a love song. Over an energetic guitar track and drum machine, Monroe sings about the heart transplant she’d had some years before and how she believes that she can still feel the donor even though he’s (according to the lyrics) long gone and sweetly resting. The track is careful to avoid any religious implications, instead suggesting that the donor (who has since been identified as Devon Wilde) instead rests inside her chest. With X on the guitar and Holmes on the drum machine and (of all things) the triangle, Teller is free to singe verses from the perspective of the heart donor, viewing the world from inside Monroe’s chest while Donner provides very beautiful backing harmonies. The overall mood of the track is one of quiet love and happiness, as well as gratefulness to the young boy who gave her the second chance. Those familiar with the work of Heart on a Chain know that the transplant features heavily in their songs and it’s no surprise to see it here.

The second track released in the work was ‘Me and My Jackalope’ and fueled rumors about a relationship between Teller and his bandmate, Dash X. At the time, both were closeted at the request of the label to avoid scandal. “Being in the closest literally almost killed me.” Teller would reflect later, interviewing for a project he did, releasing tracks for an LGBT themed album in the 2000s.”The funny thing is, I don’t think anyone who listened to us gave a damn. We’d go on stage, and we used to stand so close our knuckles were almost touching getting up in each other’s face and people would just go crazy.” Me and My Jackalope is, as you may have guessed, a song about impossible love. A love that the singer, in this case, mostly Teller, keeps hidden under his bed, only bringing it out to play when he’s alone. It’s a slow, sad track with Teller crooning to his animal “If they saw you, then they’d send you away.” Both Holmes and Monroe are credited as writers on the track, with the usual Eerie, Indiana flavor of complicated guitar playing set aside in favor of Donner and a violin and Holmes playing an assortment of other instruments.

The third and final promotional single was meant to be Skylines, which lyrics from are also featured on the inside booklet of the album however at the last minute it was swapped out to the Meatloaf cover in the center of the album, Midnight at the Lost and Found due to ‘label meddling’ after it was decided they needed another upbeat track after Me and my Jackalope. The track is nothing special, a seemingly typical Eerie, Indiana cover. Eerie, Indiana frequently covered Meatloaf and Jim Stienman tracks, hoping to work with one or the other someday. Sadly, this collaboration never came to be. But it’s a fun song, much like the original version from the 1983 album by Meatloaf. Somewhat of a deep cut by today’s standards, but it’s fun. Which I think was probably the mission statement of this album if Dash X is to be believed (Yes, that’s his stage name, no I do not know his real name). ‘We were a bunch of 20 something friends given a studio and a year or two to do whatever we wanted. So we did whatever we wanted, which was being weird.’

Skylines and it’s reprise is a group effort, with every member of the group joining in with the writing process to produce something that could have gone astray but managed to come together into something coherent. Skylines covers the re-treaded ground of many bands, it’s a song set about missing people while on tour. Set against New York’s bright, iconic skyline the track is mostly led by Donner as she wonders what her lover is doing right now. Her lover, played by Teller wonders about if his lover will stay in New York, swept up by the bright skylines, and pleading for them to simply be theirs. The track has backing vocals from all of the members involved, including Holmes who mostly shies away from singing parts. ‘It’s not that I don’t love to sing.” He explains, “I’m just not very good at it. Marshall was always the singer, I’m much happier playing the drums, or a cello or something.”

The final track on the album, clocking in at nine minutes, is Cryptids (I Still Believe in You and Me). This track shows off the impressive guitar skills of Teller and X, this time paired with the violin playing from Donner who shows she can keep up with the boys by playing speedy, intense sections with precision. This Dash X penned track also has extensive work by Holmes on the drums and a solo from a very jazz saxophone in the third act. Ultimately, the song doesn’t quite come together, feeling disjointed and a little over-complicated. But...Maybe that’s how it’s meant to feel. Dash was never brought into Eerie, Indiana as a writer, he was brought on to foil with Marshall on stage and because he was the only person the label could find that could play the punishingly difficult riffs Teller produces. On his Instagram speaking about pride X has suggested that a lot of his music was changed during production because it was too overtly about men, while Donner and Teller both proficiently changed pronouns in there songs, or stuck to calling their love interests you.

The album has three tracks that feel like filler, the intermission track which is not unusual on the cinematic, large scale Eerie, Indiana albums, a seemingly ‘story’ track called ‘Lost in Time’ which is a piece of Holmes poetry performed by Donner and an odd little track called ‘We Gave This One To Tod’ While the enigmatic Tod was often credited on Eerie, Indiana albums and opened for them at live shows he never quite reached the level of recognition his peers did. However, seeing the bizarre and experimental nature of his work, and his goth and punk leanings I think it’s safe to assume he was happier underground than his friends were blinded by the lights of showbiz. This piece features heavy synths and a drum machine. It doesn’t hit for me, but perhaps for a fan of Tod, it could be a holy grail.

On this version of the album, known as the deluxe edition, we’re given three additional tracks. A demo version of Elvis and the Mothman, which is lyrically the same slowed all the way down with the shouting chorus replaced with a mouth against the mic crooner style. The released, upbeat anthem style track is a far better fit for the album. Baba Yaga in Heels is a Heart on a Chain only track, perhaps why it was discarded. It features a techno style dance beat, with the lyrics being about a night out with Baba Yaga, a Banshee, and a harpy. Ultimately, the lyrics are not that impactful but they don’t need to be. The final listed track is a cover of Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell, which lyrically and sonically is almost identical to the original.

Overall, what Marshall’s theory of Believability tries to do is ambitious. It’s an album between two experiential groups of friends trying to make something that they enjoy. But it’s not the best work of either group, which is a shame because it could have been something very special if they were given a little more time to work out some of the kinks and if they pruned some of the tracks that are superfluous to the story of the album. I’m happy to have a copy in my collection, but honestly, I’d rather listen to something the group produced independently anyway.

#eerie indiana #mitziedits #(eerie indiana as albums cinematic universe)

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vicscratchpages · 5 years ago

Text

Eml Writes His Name (Part 1)

“Can you teach me the Signs, Auntie?” Eml asks. “I want to learn—well, I suppose everything, or as much as you’re willing to teach me.”

“I’m happy to teach you,” Tu’l says with a smile. “Crevasse is a mix of several things, the signs among them.”

“Cre…vasse?”

Eml tests the word on his tongue, tilting his head. He can’t pinpoint the exact associations the word brings to mind. It almost sounds musical, but it feels ancient. As old as dust, and yet other-worldly. Tu’l nods from her side of the table.

“The signs and the concepts are part of the consideration deck.” She reaches for the cards, but instead of shuffling them she hands the deck to the boy. “I think you can separate them one from the other.”

The boy’s eyes widen, but he slowly reaches for the deck. He is no stranger to magic, but he hesitates to believe its benevolence. Craft comes with consequence, he knows. For this reason, he is always cautious. Careful not to disrespect. It is one of the many reasons why Tu’l takes no issue with teaching him.

Eml is not a reckless pupil. If anything, she hopes to encourage his boldness. It is in his soul, after all—he and Koteh are squared, soul mates who share the same soul type. Moreover, they share the same persuasion as bliss souls, which only strengthens their bond. It is impossible for them to be broken apart, but that won’t keep various forces from trying.

Sorting through the cards, Eml pauses from time to time. He allots some to one pile, some to another, others to a third. But then he pauses, eyes looking over his progress.

“The colors—they’re important, aren’t they?” he asks.

“How so?”

Eml hums, tapping his chin. He sets the unsorted cards aside, and then spreads through those that are already face up on the table. His fingers are careful, undeniably gentle. In Blacksmith society, everything has meaning. Koteh has said it plenty of times, and Eml himself has observed the way everything seems to be done with purpose. Nothing is done off-hand.

He sorts through the cards again, this time by color. Blue symbols, black ones, grey ones. Eml pauses when he sorts the first two red cards out of the deck, but stops when he sees the third.

“I know this one.” It comes out as a murmur, with a hint of awe. “This is—the Siren, right?”

He places it by the other two cards with red symbols, recalling the previous reading. The Siren’s Sigil was a card of High Magic, Tu’l had told him. He could only imagine that these other two were equally important.

“That’s right,” Tu’l said. “One of the Sacred Seals.”

Eml looked at the three cards for a long time. Other than the color, the symbols all shared triangles and circles. Although still simple, they were perhaps the most complex of all the cards. He wanted to know more, but first he finished sorting through the remaining cards of the deck.

“The seals are rarely used in writing,” Tu’l explained. “But they are quite important to the deck. Which of the other piles do you think are the Signs?”

The black and grey piles were about of equal number. He noticed some of the symbols were almost the same, between the two piles. His fingertip taps the third pile with blue cards.

“Are these the Signs?”

Tu’l nodded.

“There are eighteen of them,” she said. “Six for each of the Ways.”

“So—like different suits?”

“Something like that. They’re similar to the major arcana in a standard tarot deck. They’re also called Coordinates, because they’re used in a person’s witch chart.”

“A witch chart?” Eml blinks at her. “Is that like a soul type? Does everyone have one of those? What if someone isn’t a witch?”

Eml catches himself, face reddening at the volley of questions. Tu’l smiles at him, always delighted by his curiosity. He is drawing smart comparisons, making critical reflections. Although determining his witch chart will take much more time, she can teach him a few other things.

“Chart readings are quite an involved process, if you’re up for that one day. The Signs often speak to a person’s character and personality—which makes them very useful for writing names. Would you like to write yours?”

“My name?” Eml asks. “In—Crevasse?”

“That is the universal language of the craft, yes. A common tongue among Blacksmiths. The letters—called Carvings—might look somewhat familiar, but that is about as far as the similarities go.”

Tu’l pulled a notepad from under the table and came to sit beside Eml. The mirror was helpful for readings, but it would make the carvings unnecessarily confusing. Eml scooted over a little. Tu’l slid a panel over the mirror so it wouldn’t be scratched placed the notepad on the table.

“Carvings can be written backwards or slanted, depending on the meaning one might wish to convey,” Tu’l explained, copying the alphabet onto the pad while Eml watched. “Sometimes it has to do with the way a name is pronounced. Other times it can offer clues about what a person thinks of themselves, or how they view their interactions with others.”

“Some of those do look like regular letters,” Eml commented. “Or close to them.”

“Do you think you can pick out the letters in your name?”

Eml scans the row of characters, neat across the page. Tu’l’s handwriting is small, but easy to read. She offers him the pen, and he puts a little dot underneath three of the carvings. Tu’l nods and circles them. Underneath, on a separate line, she writes them in a row.

“Why is the E in my name backwards?” Eml wonders. “Is that a bad thing?”

Tu’l shakes her head, writing Koteh’s name in carvings beside Eml’s. Koteh’s name, Eml realized, also featured a backwards e.

“Usually when you write your name, you’ll only write the first letter of your call name. The rest is made up of a combination of signs and concepts. What do you think of Koteh’s name, here?”

“It makes me smile.”

It hadn’t been what he’d intended to say. Eml blushes as he tries to elaborate.

“It’s—silly isn’t the right word. Seeing it makes me think of the way he’s so playful and enthusiastic all the time. So excited that he mixes up his words.”

Tu’l laughed softly, nodding.

“He was so excited to have learned the alphabet and how to write his name. Very proud of himself too, for mastering what had been a difficult series of lessons. The backwards e is as much a part of his earnest nature as the other signs and concepts in his name.”

Tu’l wrote the letters of Koteh’s name again, this time with what might be considered the “correct” use of the carvings. She didn’t have to prompt Eml this time. He immediately shook his head, pointing to the top spelling.

“No no no, this one. It doesn’t look right, when the e is forward.”

“Try writing yours,” she said, handing him the pen. “Write it a few different ways, a few different times. Use regular letters and the Carvings, and see what works best.”

Eml glances at her, and then back to the page. He takes the pen, hovers it over the page for a moment. Tu’l knows he is hesitating, afraid of writing the wrong thing. But then he takes a breath and carefully inscribes the symbols in various patterns. He experiments with the Carvings, writing them forward and then backwards, slanted and straight. Soon his eyes don’t reference the alphabet at the top of the page or Tu’l’s handwriting at all.

Tu’l feels a warmth in her heart; nothing brings her pleasure quite like seeing Eml at ease. She doubts he realizes that he is enjoying himself. When he tells Koteh about it later, undoubtedly Eml will laugh at his own excitement over something seemingly so simple. But Koteh will share his enthusiasm, and thus encourage Eml to embrace his own joy.

(Part Two)

#eml and koteh #lessons with auntie #tu'l and eml #to be continued #fantasy friday #eml writes his name #part one #i hope you all enjoy this #it's okay if you don't like it #black writers #fantasy #names

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dontshootmespence · 6 years ago

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Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

Chapter 37

Seeing the hate in her eyes nearly broke him in his tracks, but he couldn’t stop to comprehend anything. He had to get away from her to keep her out of danger, no matter how much it was killing him inside.

Without thinking, he drove. He let his mind go blank and somehow, 15 minutes later, he was at Spencer’s door. “Hey kid, can I stay here for a couple days?”

“Yes, of course,” Spencer replied, opening the door and stepping back to let him in. “Shouldn’t you be with Juliet? What happened?” Spencer wasn’t great with relationships, but Derek looked miserable. Something was wrong.

“I-I can’t talk about it. Can I just stay here while I figure things out?”

“Again, sure.” The psychologist in him begged his brain to prod Derek for answers, but his friend was in pain. “Make yourself at home.”

That was two days ago. He’d walked into the apartment, taken a seat on Spencer’s couch and stared off into the distance trying to figure out what to do. He’d barely moved.

But the universe took this inopportune moment to send another complication Derek’s way. His phone rang. It was Garcia. They had a case.

He heard Spencer pick up in the other room and quickly inform Penelope that he was on his way in. Derek just lay there, letting the phone continue to ring. The idea of picking it up, of going to work seemed...unimaginable.

In part he just wanted to wallow, to be allowed to sit in his own sorrows without the rest of the world creeping in. But, in his heart of hearts, Derek also knew he would be a detriment and not an asset if he went back to work now. As much as that hurt, knowing he couldn’t do his job, it was nothing compared to the suffering settling into his head and heart in the wake of losing her.

He hadn’t slept. Every time he tried to close his eyes, the look on her face as she’d walked away kept him awake.

Everything reminded him of Juliet.

The stack of books on the coffee table. The sound of running water as he washed his hands. His own face in the mirror.

She was everywhere and nowhere and in that, he was lost.

“You staying here?” Spencer asked as he hung up with Garcia.

All Derek could do was nod. “I’m no good to you right now.”

Spencer could see that. It was fairly obvious. “I know, but,” he hesitated, grabbing his go bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “I hope you know that whatever it is that’s going on, you can tell me. I won’t tell a soul if that helps.”

The corner of Derek’s lip twitched up. He couldn’t risk it. He didn’t want to put his kid brother in danger too. This was bad enough as it was without bringing the team into this mess. “I know, kid. Go save the world. I’ll be back soon.”

Spencer swallowed hard against the lingering uncertainty and closed the door behind him. For a profiler, he was having a very difficult time figuring out what was going on in his friend’s mind.

-----

“Miss Juliet?” Jefferson piped up from the other side of the desk. She looked up, only then realizing she’d stamped the same book three times.

“I’m sorry Jefferson. Now you’re book has extra stamps, for good luck.” Juliet gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and handed over the book. Jefferson waddled off to the children’s section once again to start reading his new lucky book. She stirred herself from the fog that had taken hold as best she could and went back to work, checking the book requests currently on file.

Her little ones hadn’t noticed yet but Juliet was a sight for sore eyes in the view of any adult. Dark circles hung under her eyes. They were bloodshot. And her nose still felt stuffy from crying. After finding resolve to get to the bottom of what was going on with Derek, she had jumped in head first with calls and texts and emails. At one point she even stuffed a letter in the mailbox at the post office.

Nothing.

Just silence and a growing sense of dread.

While the kids had their quiet time, she headed back through the fog and toward the computer, checking to see what books she had to pull from the shelves and for whom. A few of her regulars were going to be coming in soon for their weekly book - man, did she wish she had more time to read - but there was one patron coming in whose name was a surprise - Spencer.

Considering Derek didn’t have an apartment anymore since he’d moved in with her, in all likelihood, he was staying with Spencer. He wasn’t responding to any of her messages, but if she could slip something into the book Spencer was taking out maybe he could get it to Derek. It was her only chance. Something was very wrong, and she wasn’t about to give up on him. What he claimed just wasn’t him anymore.

Quickly, she took her phone out and snapped a picture of the book title, checking online for a copy of it; she would need to destroy the book and the book-lover in her couldn’t do it to one already on file in the library.

If Derek didn’t answer her this time, she wasn’t sure he ever would.

-----

8pm rolled around at an alarmingly slow pace but finally Juliet was out the door and headed home.

It didn’t really feel right to even call it that in the absence of the man who had transformed it into one many moons ago. But there was no time to waste on waxing poetic, she had to destroy some ancient poetry to preserve her own verse of potential happily ever after.

For the second time that day Juliet did something she’d never thought possible; she walked into a massive chain bookstore and willingly bought a volume of poetry that was available just blocks away at a free, community-oriented, public library. It made her shiver. In her line of work, corporate bookstores were evil, but she also couldn’t destroy a library book if it wasn’t necessary, so she relented and hoped she wouldn’t burst into flames upon entry. Under any other circumstances she wouldn’t have even set foot inside, but desperate times called for even more desperate measures.

Surprisingly that was the most difficult phase of her totally impromptu mission. Mission Impossible movies wanted everyone to believe that the only people in need of burner phones were the unfairly attractive super-spies and their nemeses. While Derek Morgan was built like a Greek god, this was no globe-trotting Bond adventure and Juliet was sure as hell no one’s Pussy Galore. It was less sleek, sexy action movie sequence and more a perilous hail-mary with no gorgeous sports car in sight. Rotten Tomatoes would not have scored it highly.

Surprisingly all it took was a wad full of cash and some small-talk with a convenience store owner named Earl and Juliet was walking out of the MiniMart with a nondescript burner, no gold-plated spy ID necessary.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the Road Runner so she couldn’t get back to her house in the blink of an eye, but she did the best she could, slamming the door behind her so she could participate in the sacrilegious act of defiling a book in the confines of her own home. It made her physically ill to think about, but living without Derek or living with regret was even worse.

With the utility blade from Derek’s toolbox, she dug into the pages, hollowing out enough to safely bury the phone inside. Her previous determination to do anything to save her relationship faded into a hollowness that settled into the middle of her chest when she realized what she was using. The man she loved pervaded every aspect of this house. House - not home. Not as long as he was absent. She allowed herself to wallow for a moment before banishing all doubt and sadness from existence. Juliet had learned from the best personal superhero around so it was time to become her own.

-----

“Hey Morgan? I got this book out of the library. It’s a book of pieces by Ovid, the Roman poet.” Spencer explained from his spot in the kitchen.

Derek didn’t look up, just continued staring into the couch cushions. “That’s nice kid.” He sighed.

“Well, yes, it would be. If it wasn’t defaced. Pages have been cut out and...there’s a phone it in. Along with a message. This looks like Juliet’s handwriting actually. She must have seen the request in the inter-library loan system and gotten this to me. I think it’s for you.”

Just hearing her name hurt. All the things he’d said. All the tears they’d both shed. He couldn’t get her face out of his head. “What?” He reached out for the book, taking it tentatively from Spencer’s hand as if it were a ticking bomb that might explode at any moment. “This is her handwriting.”

Most of the book had been hollowed out, but a section at the top of one page was highlighted, her handwriting scrawled underneath.

Fortune and love favor the brave. The passage read, before her words covered up the rest.

I think Ovid might have been right. So this is me trying to be brave, for the both of us. I don’t know what happened but I know something must be wrong, because you promised I would be stuck with you forever. And Derek Morgan is a man of his word. If you’re reading this, call me. Please. Whatever it is we can figure it out as long as we’re together. Be brave my love.

-Juliet

Without a word, Derek swallowed against the lump in his throat. Spencer had already left the room, wanting to give him the privacy he so obviously needed right now. As he pressed the button to dial, his heart raced.

One ring.

Two-

A third ring didn’t come, but silence did. “Juliet?”

A sob wrenched through her body when she heard his voice. She knew he was lying. She knew he wouldn’t do that to her. She’d been right. “Derek?”

“I’m here,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, I-” His voice started to shake, the look on her face when he’d broken things off burning into his brain. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forget it.

Juliet stopped him in his tracks. “What happened? Why did you walk away? I know you were lying, but why?”

Leaning back into the couch, a tear fell from his eye. “Someone is threatening me. When my mom got sick? That was him. I thought it was a prank or something, but it wasn’t. And then I got another call saying I had to break it off with you and if I let anyone know, you, the Bureau, my family, anyone...he said he’d kill you. Baby, I had to walk away. I had to-”

“I know,” she breathed. The sense of relief she felt was akin to feeling the weight of the world leap off her shoulders. The tears kept coming as she tried to speak. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. We will fix this, Derek. We have to. God I just- I just miss you so much.” Juliet broke off, a sob taking over for words.

Derek felt himself beginning to weep. He hadn’t let himself feel it in so long for fear of losing himself to it forever. But she was here. He could hear her voice. And it was all too much.

They both just stayed there like that. Listening to the other cry on the other end of the line, knowing that their love was there. That this was real.

@virgoswlw @crimeshowtrash @literallyprentissstwin @jazz91121 @tommyhollandd @spencer-puppies-and-stuff @fl0werb0nes18 @stunudo @spencerthepipecleaner @theofficeofsupremegenius @ultrarebelheart @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lukeassmanalvez @mentallydatingspencerreid @nobravery @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars @wonderboygenius @naturallytom @imagines-for-criminal-minds @acespence @sweater-vest-reid @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid @sam-carter-in-training @parker-hopper @spencerwreid @ssahotchner @profiler-in-training @were-skye @trollitis @heyboywonder @ficrecswithcassie @janiedreams88 @gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid @tippy06 @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart @ssaunitchief @xxm3xxj @xocriminal-minds-imaginesxo

#derek morgan #derek morgan x oc #derek morgan x juliet hunter lewis #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fic #dontshootmespence #veroinnumera #broken homes fix broken hearts

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ask-secretagentsquad · 6 years ago

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Sacrifice

Romeo got nowhere with the Leader, and eventually opened the door and left him alone. He left it open behind him and left the Leader visible, just so he could see his work. Jesse was the first to notice him.

"Damn, Romeo. Feel better?" Jesse snarked to Romeo who chuckled and wiped his hands on his pants.

"Quite. If anyone else would like to take a go, he's all yours," he offered.

"Maybe later. Any more and he might die on us." Jesse studied the beaten Leader from a distance, surprised that he still showed no emotion.

"So, anything?"

"Lukas is still on the phone with Reginald. They're... Trying. Not only is it hard talking to the secret service, but the connection is also really bad in here and it's land-line so, the keep breaking up and having to re-call.”

“Really? That’s harder than speaking with the secret service?”

“Ehh yeah. Yeah.”

Romeo snorted a laugh and sat down at the table where both the Witherstorm page and the translated copy were laying.

“Oh- it was translated?”

“Oh, yeah- Not by any of us though. Luckily we’ve got some great connections. That whole blog thing? Really helping us out,” Jesse replied, sitting across from him.

“Who did it?” Romeo paused for a moment, “Their handwriting is very neat. And they worked... Quite quickly.”

“One of our contacts named Zone. She's very quick at this stuff, apparently. She beat Yellow to it," Radar spoke up from where he was sitting, "She must do that stuff for like, a living? I think Gil's mentioned her sometime too."

"Hm. Respects to Zone. That's good work-" Romeo tapped the paper and moved it aside, "And quite efficient. Easy to read. Accurate. Next time you speak with her, send my compliments. This is... Quite helpful."

As Romeo was taking his hand back, Jesse quickly noticed the bloodied marks on Romeo's knuckles that hadn't seemed to go away.

"Is that the Leader's blood, or yours?" he asked, snatching one of Romeo's hands before he could pull it away.

"Agh- probably mine, Jesse. I'm not used to so much punching. Believe it or not, the Leader's face is solid, and it kinda hurts to hit. But it was worth it, I can say without question!" Romeo drew his hand back and rubbed over his still stained knuckles with the other hand. He wasn't used to anyone else worrying.

Jesse got up without saying anything else, and left to go over and talk to Axel. For a moment, Romeo thought he’d upset him somehow, but Jesse came back moments later and sat this time beside him. He took Romeo’s hand again and gripped it as a way to tell Romeo not to jerk away.

They stayed silent, Romeo letting Jesse do what he needed. After a few minutes, Jesse let go of him, and Romeo pulled his hands back to see that Jesse had wrapped around his knuckles tight in bandages. He quirked an eyebrow and glanced up to Jesse.

“What? It’ll help it heal faster,” Jesse paused for a moment before cracking a light grin, “Besides, you’re not the bloody knuckles type of guy. It doesn’t match your image.”

Romeo chuckled and rubbed over the bandages.

“Thank you, I suppose you’re right."

“Yeah, you’re more of a clean and crisp businessman, right? I always got that vibe from you.”

“I try to be, yes,” Romeo folded his hands in his lap and cleared his throat quietly, “However working with so much oil at times can be a bit ruining to that appearance.”

“I would think so. But you don’t really work with machines a lot, do you?”

“Well—not necessarily. Yet the entire vault is filled with them. You can’t really even walk through there without getting some dirt on you,” Romeo brushed his vest, making the wiping motion as an extra theatric.

“Now you’re just being dramatic, it can’t be that bad,” Jesse waved it off with a smirk.

“You’ve got a bit of grease on your face still, Jesse. I can assure you it’s because you walked through the vault one solid time.”

“No, that was because I rescued you from underneath an attack helicopter,” Jesse wagged a finger at Romeo, who laughed and leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, fair, but I’ll prove this to you. Once we get back to the vault, I’ll show you how, with me doing nothing, I can somehow get dirtied in the vault. I don’t know how, but I promise you it happens.”

“If you say so, Rom,” Jesse grinned and leaned against the table, resting his head on one hand. Romeo smiled at the nickname. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course, but it felt nice just genuinely chatting with someone else. Be it it was his said rival, that didn’t matter. It felt nice being a person again.

For a while they sat in silence, before Lukas finally put the phone down. The clack of the phone brought everyone out of their dazes.

“Well, we’ve got nothing so far. Reginald is doing his best but it takes a lot to persuade the president,” Lukas sighed and walked over to the table before sitting down and leaning his head on his hand.

“Well, at least they’ve been notified of the situation. They should get help soon,” Yellow piped up a reply.

“I hope so. I don’t trust that this leader guy will comply to being captured for very long and the longer he’s here the more anxious I get.”

“I’ll go check on him and make sure the chains are right,” Yellow said, getting up, “Better safe than sorry.”

“Be careful.. I don’t trust him,” Riot spoke up this time from where he was watching the cameras with Olivia.

“Don’t worry, Riot, I’ll be fine, he’s chained up and is probably still out of it from whatever Romeo did to him,” Yellow’s tone didn’t change, but he gave Riot an assuring look before he left the room. Riot leaned back against the wall and watched him go. All he could remember was the first attack on their apartment. He didn’t trust Yellow anywhere near the Leader.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Yellow, it was just that he didn’t trust Yellow’s mindset. After everything that’d happened, and with the Witherstorm’s clear knowledge of Yellow as a potential threat, Riot logically thought that the two needed to stay as far away from each other as possible.

However there Yellow went, going to face the Witherstorm Leader to the face. The room separated Yellow from the others, and Yellow stopped only a few feet from the chair where the Leader was propped up still sitting tall. His head was dipped only slightly, and tilted upwards to give Yellow a passive glance.

Yellow had to control his own impulses, and went around behind the chair to tighten the chains and make sure they were all locked tight.

~~~~

Orion knew who he was, just upon instinct. This was Yellow. He had to remind himself that he was buying time, and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He glanced over to the window, where light was pouring into the room, and leaned back against the metal chair. He felt the chains tighten against his chest and into his wrists, pressing him back even further.

Yellow came back around to the front and stopped just in front of Orion. He seemed to be containing something inside: heavy, heavy emotions, difficult to hold back. He lifted Orion's gaze to meet his, and Orion shot him a light look. Yellow didn't flinch, he didn't recoil, he barely showed a response. This caught Orion by surprise.

"You won't drop your appearance, will you?" Yellow said after a moment, nonchalantly and almost bored. His accent also caught Orion off guard. It was almost an obnoxious change from what he was used to.

Orion grumbled and turned his head aside, looking away from Yellow.

"I cannot wait to be rid of you. Maybe then can I start to heal. For now, I have to keep all this anger stored in me. But that's OK. Maybe one day I'll be able to take it all out on you. Luckily for you, they want you alive," Yellow stepped off to the side and scowled.

Orion chuckled to himself. This implied Yellow would be able to kill him, which was a foolish thought. He glanced back to the window, only to catch a quick glimpse of a figure, a shadow, poking through the rays of light. Yellow's back was turned, and Orion squinted for a better view.

Lukas waved from the window, his goggles and mask pulled over his face. Lukas signed to him from where he was, hoping Orion could see him.

"Can you escape? I'm going to create a diversion to get everyone off your back. Use the window on the high right to get out to the roof and split from there. We can meet back at the ED."

Orion understood, and nodded, before Lukas's figure disappeared from the window. He could finally free himself. In all honesty, he was expecting Ranger, as the usual rescue missions go, but wasn't disappointed to see Lukas. In fact, he was a bit excited. Lukas in action was something he'd been wanting to see since the first time they'd met.

In about a split second, Orion dug his heels into the ground and, with one brash jolt upwards, jerked and shattered the chains binding him. Metal chain links tinked against the ground everywhere, and Orion brushed the shattered chain from off of his lap. Yellow whipped around only for Orion to grab him by the neck and slam him up against the metal wall. He lifted him off his feet, ignoring the kicks and not losing eye contact.

~~~~

Yellow choked against the man's grip and tried desperately to kick away, but felt himself going out anyway. There was a loud cry from the doorway, and Riot ran in, not wasting any time before hitting the Leader as hard as he could over the head with a metal beam. The Leader dropped Yellow to the ground and turned to Riot instead.

Yellow dropped into a coughing heap on the metal ground, a hand to his throat as he tried to recover. All the Leader needed to do was get a good grip on Riot's head before delivering a harsh punch to the jaw to knock him clean out. He dropped Riot, watching with light content as he crippled to the ground, unconscious. Yellow pushed himself to his feet shakily, ready to make an attempt to attack, but he felt a hand shove his head into the wall and everything immediately went black.

Jesse was the next to notice the Leader as he came out of the room. He watched him grab the nearest pistol and raise it directly at him. For a second, he expected to feel the sharp pain of a bullet in his chest, but it never came. There was a different cry, and it took a moment for Jesse to realize his eyes were closed, and when he opened them, glancing down at his own chest and seeing there was no wound, no blood.

He looked up, only to see his own rival standing far in front of him, almost exactly between him and the Leader. Romeo stood still for a moment before dropping onto his knees, and Jesse suddenly knew what happened. He didn't even get a chance to cry his name before the Leader shot two more times, this time aimed directly at Romeo.

Romeo fell forwards, and the Leader held his ground, the pistol at the ready to fire at anyone else who dared move.

Jesse wanted to run, not to attack, just to get to Romeo, just to make sure he was alive, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't. He was frozen. He felt nothing but pure shock. For some reason, he felt as though he'd just watched a long-time friend die, right in front of him.

Then everything went from bad to worse as the sound of a window shattering was heard, and electric arrows almost rained down on the group. None hit, but they made their point, and the team scattered. Lukas caught sight of the Leader making a run for it, and ran after. He followed him up and out of a window near the roof, and they both left the warehouse. The arrows soon ceased right after.

Jesse ran right to Romeo, followed by Gil.

"Romeo!" he rolled Romeo onto his back, the three bullet wounds clear, however all missing Romeo's heart.

Romeo coughed and shifted uncomfortably, moving one hand over his chest. He had a stream of blood dripping down his chin, and there was already a puddle of blood where he'd been laying.

"Jesse, Jesse it's ok-- go catch them.. You're good at that... Rooves, it's your specialty, go catch them..." Romeo pushed weakly at Jesse, moving him away and motioning him to start the chase. Jesse knew he had to. He didn't want to, but he did, and turned to climb to the window the arrows came from.

Gil was left with Romeo as others slowly gathered, trying to get him as much help as possible. Olivia and Petra found the unconscious bodies of Yellow and Riot and helped get them out as well. Gil glanced back at the window that Jesse left from, hoping that he'd make it back soon. His hopes weren't very high.

#mcsm au #secret agent squad #story #witherstorm #sa jesse #sa lukas #sa romeo #sa olivia #sa james #sa kelly #sa orion #r!lukas #sa gil #sa petra

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jayalaw · 6 years ago

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Twelve Days of Doomsday, Day Ten: The Bargain in the Woods

@thefellowshipofthedragonmark @inhonoredglory @kingofthewilderwest @thepotatoreader This is a continuation of “Vikings and Romans,” set during the Red Rage. Basically, Viggo is in the book universe with an agenda

In the woods, a fire blazed. Men stood at guards, holding a white flag. Lookouts kept their eyes peeled for dragons that had succumbed to the Red Rage, or for worse foes.

"Are you sure we ought to be doing this?" Ryker asked his brother. "If word gets round to the witch, she'll have our heads." "If it goes wrong, we can always claim that we're trying to fulfill the bounty," Viggo replied. "Besides, our men our loyal. They will not betray us. Is that right?" "Yes, sir," The Hunters chorused. They shivered under Viggo's stare. They were both grown men, with grey in their hairs. Viggo had some silver in his beard, and dark circles under his eyes. The war had not been kind to anyone. In time, a figure slipped in on a riding dragon. He was dressed in muddy black, and landed with pain. His helmet had a feathery plume, and it was crooked. Muffled sounds came from within the helmet. "It's all right, Hiccup." Viggo waved the flag. "You are on neutral territory here." The boy slid off the Windwalker, who looked with concerned, doleful eyes. Two tiny dragons clung to the Fugitive's shoulders. He limped and took off his helmet. It came free with a rusty creak. "Good Thor!" Ryker exclaimed. Hiccup looked tired, and beaten down. He sported a black eye, and a tattoo on his forehead. That was the Slavemark, which made him an outcast and a slave. His face was also thin, and bruises decorated his face. He was muddy from head to toe, in a tattered Fire Suit. "I don't look that bad," he said in Dragonese, before blushing and taking a deep breath. "There's no need for that helmet," Viggo said. "This is a truce." "Believe me, the helmet wasn't my idea," Hiccup muttered in Norse, struggling to get it off. He shot a dark look to the dragons. His voice had broken over the years, and he had grown a bit taller. But anyone who had spent a week with the boy would know that it was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. "Don't trust him," the older tiny dragon told him. "He could easily turn you in. Keep the helmet on." "T-t-toothless agrees!" The other dragon said. Viggo recognized Toothless. Viggo smiled; he had trained himself to learn Dragonese, the forbidden language. A long time ago, he had gotten a copy of a book on Dragonese thanks to Hiccup's immaculate handwriting. It was helpful in getting his men out of dangerous ambushes. He did owe the boy that. But it was the boy's fault that these ambushes were happening in the first place. Everyone knew that. "It seems you got my message." "You hid it in the dragon traps. Clever." Hiccup gave up on removing his helmet. "But just so you know, I've been living as a fugitive for a year. I can spring all the dragons free in your hold. And I am the best fencer in the Archipelago. So I will fight my way out if this is a trick. And I can't stay long in one place." Viggo nodded. Being on the run from the witch would make anyone wary. The boy would have to be a fool to walk in here without an exit plan. "It's good to see you alive," he said sincerely. "How long has it been? Three years? Four?" "Five," Hiccup responded. His tone was calm. "It's been five years." "That explains it," Viggo shrugged. "You've grown so much." That was true. Hiccup wasn't tall for a Viking, and he was a runt by Viking standards, but he had grown a little. His body was still fairly skinny, if showing muscles from fencing and being on the run. But then any food would have to be foraged or stolen. Not much time to grow out in the wilderness. "And who are your new friends?" he asked. "This dragon is the Wodensfang, and the one I ride is Windwalker," Hiccup said slowly. "Your note mentioned that you could offer help. Help with what, I'm not exactly sure." "Make sure that his words are precise," the Wodensfang advised. He had a perpetually worried face. "Yes, yes." Viggo made a show of his bare hands, revealing that he was unarmed. "No matter what the witch says or what Alvin has stolen, you are still a candidate to be king." Hiccup stiffened. He had a limp. Viggo could see it in the way he walked. "You don't support Alvin's claim?" "Not unless we have to," Viggo said. "The man is, how shall we say it, downright unstable. He's selfish, unnecessarily violent, and short-sighted. The man will kill everything in sight." The other Hunters grunted in agreement. Hiccup spun to study all of their expressions. "What are you offering?" Hiccup asked suspiciously. "I'm offering my support for you as king." Viggo offered his hand. "The Hunters would aid you in the quest of Lost Things. We can go over the details over a meal. Your wounds also need to be dressed." "I'm not hungry," Hiccup said, only for Toothless's stomach to growl. He glared at the little dragon. "T-t-toothless only h-had that d-d-dried fish!" The dragon whined. "Don't be foolish," Viggo said. "You've been without proper supplies or a decent meal in a year. If you turn down my offer, you'll be allowed to leave. I cannot guarantee if we are allies if you refuse, but you are safe for the night." "If we are entering a living quarter, it will be harder to escape," The Wodensfang advised. "Out here we have the open air. We know how to evade dragons and Hunters but we don't know how to escape them." Hiccup considered. Viggo noticed how Hiccup cocked his hear unconsciously. "If we have any meals, we have it out in the open," he said. "I'm not going to enter any strongholds for the moment." Viggo nodded while the men groaned. "Brother, with all due respect, it's not safe out here," Ryker said. "The Red Rage dragons can ambush at any time." "I am aware; a compromise perhaps?" he suggested. "My men have not set up camp for the night. We can set up temporary barracks to conduct our business that will protect from the Red Rage." Hiccup looked at his dragons. They had a hushed conversation. Then he looked up, masking his relief with sternness. "I accept your terms." # Hiccup hadn't thought that one of his enemies would be offering him shelter. Most of them had tried to kill them on a repeat encounter. This past year, he had been doing all that he could to avoid being seen. Yet, here he was, trying not to gorge on the first proper meal he had tasted in months. Toothless kept trying to steal bites, even though he had a pile of fish. Hiccup tried to stop his dragon, because Toothless tended to swallow before he was thinking. He didn't trust Viggo. Not wholeheartedly. The last time they had met, Viggo had conspired for the Bog Burglars and Hooligans to wipe each other out, while the Romans who were Viggo allies sentenced Fishlegs and Camicazi to death in the gladiator arena. Viggo had offered Hiccup an out, to see the world and read more books than he possibly could. Even though Hiccup knew he could never accept that offer, some days he wondered The truth was, however, that he needed human allies. Supporters. Friends who would accept his claim as King of the Wilderwest. Fishlegs was somewhere with the Hooligans, and Camicazi, Hiccup didn't know where she was. He hoped he was okay. She had half-turned her back on him on that day. But they were still friends; at least, he and Cami hoped they still would be if they reunited. Viggo was the closest thing to a supporter Hiccup had for the moment. And he needed some rest. The year was weighing down on him. "We can start with an exchange of information," Viggo said. "The witch says you have the map to the Dragon Jewel?" Hiccup finished his bowl of dried meat mixed with salty broth. Toothless jumped into the bowl and finished the remains of it. The Wodensfang deigned to take a sip of the broth while chiding Toothless for his manners. "If I told you a year ago, I thought I did," he said. "But now I'm not sure. Besides, how do I know that you won't take the map from me and deliver it to the witch?" "So you're saying the map is a decoy?" Viggo asked. The men around them looked confused and jumpy at the same time. They all spoke in low voices. "Grimbeard always did have a nasty sense of humor," Hiccup replied darkly. He had memories of the Skullions that had tried to eat him alive, and the Strangulator that had nearly poisoned him. "How about this." Viggo sat back. "I can tell you where your father is, if you show me the map. I swear on my grandfather's grave to not reveal this information to the witch. And I doubt you will betray anything to her." Hiccup nodded. Viggo gave him a location, in a whisper. "Of course!" Hiccup whispered back. "That makes the most sense." "Don't forget your Quest, Hiccup," the Wodensfang chided. "You have to retrieve the last Lost Thing first and foremost." "I haven't forgotten," Hiccup responded. He took out the map, and started explaining why he thought it was a trick. The Prison Darkheart, in the middle of the Amber Slavelands, was where Grimbeard had claimed to draw a Mirror Maze that would lead to the Jewel. "It's the red herring symbol that concerns me," he said, pointing to the colored fish. "Unless the meaning has changed, a red herring usually means 'a false start' or 'wrong direction'. Grimbeard would be the type to use it to say that the Jewel is not in the Slavelands." "Besides which, hiding an entire maze in the Prison would be extremely difficult," Viggo agreed. He traced his figures over the faded lines. "But why would he go through the trouble of creating a false map, hiding it in a sword that was in a treasure trove at the bottom of the sea?" "This is the same man that had a fake treasure chest on Skullion Island," Hiccup said. "He's a a fan of complicated schemes. If the jewel is not in the Slavelands, then it can be anywhere." They sat in silence. The only sounds were the Wodensfang, Windwalker and Toothless sniffing the night air for danger. "But it's the only starting point we have," Viggo said. "We may as well start there." "We?" the Wodensfang said. "You want to help break into a prison and find a maze that may not exist?" Hiccup asked. "Why?" "You can't be a king without followers," Viggo said. "And you can't enter the Prison Darkheart alone. Storming a fortress like that requires men, weapons, and brains. You have a brain and a weapon, but you don't have men." Hiccup gave a half-shrug. He sensed there was a catch behind all the logic in Viggo's words. There was something unctuous in the tone. "But what is your incentive to help me?" he asked. "The witch will consider it high treason and endanger the Hunters. Why would you want to support an outcast for king?" "She won't be able to charge anyone with treason if Alvin fails the coronation," Viggo pointed out. "And as I said before, the man is unstable. He wants to wipe out humans and dragons alike. You may be able to save both. You've done the impossible before, in the arena. All you would need to do is favor the Hunters when you become king. Make us your army, your forgers, and your bodyguards. We would offer our loyalty and protection in exchange for your favor." Hiccup reached into his bowl and stroked Toothless. The heat from the dragon's body warmed his fingers, and his thoughts. Memories came back, of Viggo playing both sides of the Bog Burglars and Vikings for profit, while selling captured dragons to the Romans. He recalled the man wanting a copy of his book, and testing his languages. Viggo had wanted Hiccup by his side, to travel and to nurture. "It's not just that, isn't it?" he asked, calmly. "You want a king that you can control." "So you say," Viggo responded just as calmly. "It is favorable to aid a candidate for king who does not seek bloodshed, and one who can grow, to make mistakes and learn from them. Your talents as an intellectual would not go to waste if you are using those brains to rule a kingdom." It all sounded so sincere. But Hiccup knew better. He remembered the Roman fortress. And he could not agree to an implicit agreement to become someone for Viggo to control. Nor could he Before he could voice a response, something rustled in the trees. The dragons all stood upright. So did the Hunters. Viggo and Hiccup got to their feet abruptly, Hiccup grabbing the map and folding it in a practiced rapid manner. "Were you followed?" Viggo asked abruptly. "No," Hiccup whispered. He had taken off his helmet for the meal, but his dragons were already putting it on; normally he would have protested, but instinct told him having it off was a bad idea. He held onto the visor to keep it from jamming. "But I might have been tracked," he realized with horror. The roar that followed made their bones rattle. Arrows flew from the trees' shadows. The Hunters moved, but they were not the target. They were all aimed at the boy. "RUN!" Hiccup shouted. He dove to dodge the onslaught of arrows and pushed Viggo out of the way. "You retreat! They're not after you!" Viggo stumbled backward, to avoid the onslaught. The Hunters covered their faces with helmets, while Hiccup slipped and slid towards the Windwalker. The shoulder dragons mounted their human. "I'll have to consider your offer later!" he shouted. "I'll lure them away-" The Windwalker lurched to avoid an arrow. Hiccup's visor fell down, cutting off his last few words. As the Windwalker lifted him to the safety of the trees, the Warrior followed. Hiccup recognized the dragon and let out a curse that the helmet muffled. "Mother! Stop! It's me, Hiccup!" he tried to say. Nothing but grunts. The White Shadow dragon swooped, and the Warrior pounced. Hiccup's voice cracked as he gave a muffled squeak. He tried to shout at his mother, but nothing escaped the jammed visor. The ground flew away from him, as did the Windwalker. Oh Thor. Oh Thor. # The Hunters moved to retreat. Viggo would have wanted to go after the Warrior and her quarry, but the Hunters had no riding dragons, and to break the evening silence would mean their death. They quickly wrapped up their camp and moved to their ships on the rivers. "I know that dragon," Ryker said. "That's Valhallarama of the White Arms, Hiccup's mother. He's doomed, and we may be." "She won't betray us to the witch," Viggo said, his hair shaken. "And surely she wouldn't kill her son. No mother would." "Even so, we should retreat," Ryker said. "The dragons can't reach us in the Roman lands, or beyond. Neither can the witch." "I think you're right." Viggo nodded. His shoulders drooped in disappointment. "You tried your best, brother." Ryker offered a shoulder in consolation. "I wish he had said yes. But this is not a world where we can afford nobility or the right decision." "I wasn't doing it for the nobility," Viggo snapped. "I meant every word that I told the boy. He would have been a perfect pawn to manipulate, to get an equilibrium between dragons and humans. Alvin doesn't promise that equilibrium." "Then we have to hope the boy will do it without our help," Ryker said. "I'm disappointed too. The boy was our last chance to get our old life back." A shiver of agreement went through the Hunters. They started to pack up and to make the long, discreet journey far from this land. The Hunters would survive this bout. Viggo only hoped that the rest of the Archipelago would.

#httyd books #twelve days of doomsday 2018 #twelvedaysofdoomsday2018 #viggo grimborn

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nebulous-wanderings · 6 years ago

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Tokyo Trip/Kurenai Enishi October 19-21, 2018

Wow look who procrastinated writing a blog post for this for 2 months (me). I made a mini-post when I got back but I didn’t really explain everything I saw and did in my 48hrs there so I’ll do that here. More pictures and me rambling about Tsukista below~

I only went on this little weekend trip because my friend and I had gotten tickets to see Tsukista’s 6th Stage Kurenai Enishi. I would’ve stayed longer but I wanted to save my vacation days for next year :P Luckily, my friend was able to meet me in Tokyo from the area of Japan she currently lives in and stayed with me for the weekend to watch the show.

I arrived Friday evening and checked into the hostel. It had the best prices for the area and was super clean and easy to check in and out - I would definitely stay there again! After that I met @lavendermintrose at Animate since I wanted to buy a penlight and shop around for a bit. We then made a spontaneous visit to the karaoke place with the Tsukista drink collab~

My other friend arrived at the hostel later that night, and we ate a late-night meal and were up until like 2am drafting fan letters on our phones to write onto stationary the next day.

On Saturday we went to Harajuku for breakfast (see first pic at the top) and scoped out the Tsukipro Harajuku Shop. We had timeslots to enter on Sunday, but we passed by it to take a look at how it was set up. After that we tried to get to the train station as fast as possible in order to get to the theater in time for the merch queue to start but Takeshita Dori was looking like this:

which is sooo much worse than Times Square so we were crawling at a snail’s pace back to the station. After the trainride, we got off in Shinjuku where the theater was and it was a bit complicated to find since Google Maps had us cross through and mall and back outside to find the theater (that’s also connected to a movie theater). The line had only opened up 5mins before we got there but there were already so many people ahead of us:

(the entrance is a little past that white sign board with colored rectangles). The wait didn’t feel too long ince they opened sales a bit earlier than the scheduled time and it moved pretty quickly.

My and my friend’s matching tsukiusas (+ my Sing Together Forever usa). I don’t do itabags so I at least brought these little guys.

The merch form~ They got stricter with the purchase limit for this stage (like one copy of each CD per person). (+ check out that girl's Aoi and Yoru itabag in the background)

The hallway to the merch sale tables/entrance to the theater was lined with Kurenai Enishi posters with art of the nenchuu by Jiku-sensei. They matched the red walls nicely lol.

(My face looks really weird in this pic so I covered it lmao) but I was super excited in line 😂 After buying all of out stuff there was a little over an hour until the show started so we got some food and the food court next door and started writing our letters:

My friend wrote one for Yuusaku and gifted local omiyage from her region. I wrote one for Yuusaku and one for Yuusuke. Technically my friend wrote it for me since my handwriting absolutely sucks and we were pressed for time (I would’ve taken forever to write the kana) but I wrote the whole message and she just copied the Japanese onto paper. I handwrote the English I included at the end and also signed it. I included some gifts I brought with me from NY to give to them as well.

We got to the theater as doors opened and placed our letters and gifts in the boxes then picked up the premium seat bonuses (2 group bromides and a shrine charm in the 3rd pic from the top). The charm was one of six color combos depending on which day it was and luckily for me that day was the Rui/Iku colors! Ours were in the 6th or 7th row off to the right. The stage was very wide and we were right in front of the little side-stage area where the actors come out from.

I won’t spoil the plot but I will say that people cried during one of the more dramatic scenes. I wouldn’t say it’s as sad as Yunemigusa though lol (I saw ver. Red btw). It was really cool seeing the new cast for the first time, and I think they all did a fantastic job!

The Mutsuki-kun higawari had Gaku (Haru’s actor) as some evil guy trying to defeat Kakeru who is trying to become a stronger ninja. At first it was just a pair of sunglasses talking while Gaku did the voiceover from backstage but then he appeared on stage in a white lab coat. It was really funny, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly his character was supposed to be referencing lol. Also random note: there was a reoccurring mushroom joke that I also found really funny lol.

The songs in Kurenai Enishi weren’t my favorite per se (I’m not a huge fan of slow songs) but they matched the mood and tone of the show very well. However, I do love the theme song since it’s catchy and makes me want to chant along with it lol.

Since I watched the Red version with Procellarum as the focus, the dance live was their group songs and solo character songs from the 2nd season of CDs. The background dancers were the Six Gravity counterparts from the same age group. Rui is my fave and Yuusaku was soooo cute performing “Oh… Yes!” Ryoki did a great job as Iku, and his dancing looked so pro I was amazed. I was really bopping to You’s “Manatsu no Summer” and he went into the crowd for fanservice as usual lol. For the entirety of Yoru’s song, I was just staring at Yuusaku’s face cuz he’s so bright and sparkly~ He had a big smile on just like Tani’s Yoru and looked like he was having fun. During Kai’s “Beast Master,” I was on the side Haru was mostly dancing on, and let me just say Gaku went IN on the hip movements and overall risqué dance moves lmao. Can’t wait to see that again on the DVD 😂 Taka had big shoes to fill as Shun, but he was great throughout the play and dance live (sasuga idols) and his Shun voice was even super similar to Tomoyuu’s.

At the end they performed “Tsuki no Uta” with both groups which was a lot of fun. I was debating whether or not to change penlight colors at each verse but it would’ve been too difficult lol. I had them on Rui and Iku for the whole duration of the song, but did all the name-yelling fanchants which was fun to be a part of (this was my first time at a jp live event). At the end when everyone runs back and forth on the stage waving goodbye, I was sitting close enough to the stage to tell who in the crowd they were looking at, and I got waves from Iku (who probably saw me frantic waving my green and brown penlights) and Kai! Kai also did a finger gun shoot to the girl 2 seats away from me (sitting next to my friend) since she had a Kai uchiwa and she was crying tears of joy all after that lol.

The closing message for that performance was from Yuusuke, and I could tell he was a bit nervous trying to get words out but he looked genuinely happy to be up there on stage. (Honestly, stan Akiba Yuusuke, he’s adorable).

After it was over, I wanted to watch it again, it felt so short! But we met up with Lavender for some more Tsukista collab karaoke and talked about the show and fangirled over stuff. I kept getting Shun coasters when buying the collab drinks, but in the end I ended up with a Rui at least so all was well. I need some more Growth fans to karaoke with so we can all harmonize on the songs 😂

On Sunday, we went to the Tsukipro Harajuku Shop, but I’ll include that in a separate posts since I hit picture limit in this one already. Overall, I had a fun time and I’m super glad I was able to fulfill one of my goals which was to watch a Tsukista show live! I landed back home at 8pm on Sunday and thankfully I was able to wake up in time for work the next day (due in part to me sleeping most of the plane ride back). 10/10 would do a weekend trip (or longer) again for a stage play or concert 👍

#my digressings #tokyo trip 2018 #tsukista #kurenai enishi

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floral-and-fine · 7 years ago

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Turtle Dove

tur·tle·dove /ˈtərdlˌdəv/ noun

turtle-dove

a small Old World dove with a soft purring call, noted for the apparent affection shown for its mate.

Clyde Logan x Female!reader

Soulmate AU (my first soulmate AU story!! So excited! I love soulmate fics :D)

Warnings: some cussing I think. Mostly just fluff and feels. possibly movie spoilers

A/N: Clyde Logan owns my ass. That is all.

Clyde sat on the couch with his elbows on knees. The TV was on but he couldn't care less about what he was watching. On the coffee table, his beer sat getting warm and flat.

Another damn cauliflower scheme and this one intentionally involved him getting arrested and incarcerated. There were plenty of reasons to object to his brother's crazy plan, but the outcome, if they could pull it off, would be incredible.

Absentmindedly, Clyde ran his thumb across the wrist of his prosthetic arm. This was a nervous habit of his, something he did whenever he was feeling nervous or worried.

He looked down at the wrist, black letters spelling 'y/n' were written across it. The letters were worn on some parts, he figured that it was partly from him rubbing his thumb over it so often.

He had done his best to copy her name just like he remembered it. But it was difficult, every time he tried to remember how it looked on his real arm it was kind of blurry, like for a second it would be perfectly clear, then gone the next.

Losing his arm was an unexpected tragedy, and what made it even worse was losing his soulmate tattoo. Clyde took it for granted, figuring that it was his soulmate mark, and therefore, he'd have it forever.

When he received his prosthetic hand, Clyde worked hard on adding her name to it, trying to capture the curves and pattern of her handwriting to the best of his ability.

He wondered what she thought of his handwriting every time she looked at his chicken scratch across her wrist spelling 'Clyde'. Did it comfort her? Did she wonder what he was like as much as he wondered about her?

Clyde took out a black sharpie, and with extra care he traced the letters again, making her name look even more vibrant on the skin colored plastic. Her named shined while the ink dried.

"Y/n," he whispered to himself.

His mind started to wander to thoughts that he often pushed back. Thoughts he tried to ignore but always lingered around. Like whether or not he'd still feel anything if she were near without his real mark?

People described a burning sensation coming from their mark alerting them that their soulmate was close. What if he doesn't feel a damn thing? What if she's the only one who feels it? Or, even worst, What if she's already felt it, but didn't want him. That she saw him, saw his arm, and rejected him without him knowing. And now here he was sitting like a fool, hoping that one day soon he'll find her.

He hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed with him, with his lifestyle or his lack of having a complete arm. If she did find him first, he hoped she'd let him know.

"Thinking about y/n?" Jimmy asked stepping into the living room with a beer in hand.

"Yep," Clyde muttered, still looking at her name. Jimmy flopped onto the couch. He took the remote and started flipping through the channels.

"I wouldn't worry about it, you'll meet her," Jimmy reassured Clyde, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

"My soulmate is bound to end up with a criminal, thanks to your plan," Clyde huffed, still bitter over his part in all this.

Jimmy shook his head, "It's fate, she's gonna end up with you whether you're a criminal or a saint. We've got nothing to lose except this opportunity."

"Well, our family hasn't the best of lu-,"

"Don't get started on all that crap about the Logan family curse," Jimmy warned, interrupting Clyde. "It'll all work out in the end, trust me."

Clyde rubbed his mark, in little circles, he wanted to desperately believe that.

On the day of the heist, losing his prosthetic arm was sudden and unexpected.

It immediately put Clyde into a panic, not only could this get him caught, but he was also losing his soulmate mark again.

Automatically, he started to try to see if he could get it out. Clyde shook his head his dark hair covering his face while his arms wrapped around the hose.

"Listen," Jimmy started trying to calm him down. "We can get a new one, hell we can you hundreds of new arms, but not if we get caught."

"This one has her name, almost like the real one... I can't lose it," Clyde muttered, his head facing down, and yanking at the damn machine. "I can barely remember how it used to look...what if I forget completely?"

Jimmy put his hand on Clyde's back, "I promise I will not leave it here, but you have to go."

Clyde felt torn over the whole situation but staying meant getting caught for sure. He'd have to trust Jimmy. He tried one more time to get it out before reluctantly leaving.

Clyde still couldn't believe that they had pulled it off. Clyde stared at the new arm. It was sleek, fancy, and functional, Jimmy even had someone engrave y/n's name on it. His fingers traced over the grooves of her name. At least, he didn't have to keep retracing it on this arm.

The bar was quiet, not a single customer had stopped in. It was pouring cats and dogs outside, anyone would have to be crazy to be out in it. Although who was he to judge anyone for being crazy? He was the crazy idiot who agreed to his brother's plan.

He figured it would be best to go ahead and close the place up for the night. No point in staying open without any customers.

He started cleaning the bar wiping the counter off, putting the glasses on the shelf and restocked.

A loud knocking sound interrupted his work.

Clyde frowned at the door, who in the world was trying to get in? Probably Earl or one of the other barflies.

"We're closed," he hollered, continuing to flip the chairs over.

"Please?" a woman's voice begged from the other side. "I'm having car trouble."

Clyde sighed, he couldn't leave a lady standing out there alone in this kind of weather.

"Give me a minute," he grunted putting the last barstool on the counter.

Clyde headed towards the door. Then it hit him, an unfamiliar burning sensation. Wincing, his hand automatically cradled his wrist, and that's when he noticed that the feeling was coming from his left arm.

The pounding on the door had halted as well. He ran his thumb over his wrist, over the engraving of his soulmate's name, y/n.

Clyde approached the door. As he did so the burning became stronger. His heart was racing so fast that it was almost painful.

So this is what it feels like.

He rested his forehead against the door and asked in a shaky voice, "Are you feeling that too?"

He was trembling, his nerves on edge. He didn't feel ready to meet her. In fact, he never felt so anxious in his life.

"Clyde?" she mumbled, to verify that this was real.

He closed his eyes, her voice sounded so sweet. He knew without even seeing her yet, that he loved her.

"Y/n," he muttered back.

"Oh God, this really is happening?" she asked.

"It is," he confirmed.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course, just... Just give me a second," Clyde tucked his shirt back in and raked his hand through his hair trying to make himself look more presentable. He took a deep breath. This was it. He knew he'd love her no matter what, hopefully, she'd feel the same way.

Clyde unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

There was no turning back now.

There she was taking shelter under the porch. She looked so beautiful. Her wet hair clung to her face, just like her sopping wet T-shirt clung to her figure. She was holding her hand against her chest over her heart.

They stared at each other, just taking it all in. Clyde's eyes studied her face. He already adored every part of her.

The wind picked up, causing y/n to shiver.

Clyde blinked, coming out of his daze, "Sorry, you must be freezing." He stepped aside to let her in. "I wasn't... expecting anyone, especially not you," he explained.

She smiled and started to cry wiping her tears, "I'm sorry, I must just look a mess right now."

Clyde shook his head, "You're more beautiful than I could've hoped for."

She shook her head, giggling, "You are too. Except you know, handsome, and much taller than I thought you'd be."

Y/n cautiously reached out and touched the part of his arm where her name was engraved, "looks just like my handwriting."

"I didn't want to forget," he muttered.

Y/n nodded her head, she couldn't imagine what he has been through. But it did make her feel warm to know that he wanted to still have her name on his arm.

"Can I hold you?" Clyde asked, averting his gaze.

Y/n felt her heart melt being asked such a question in such an innocent way.

"I'm still pretty wet and cold," she reminded him.

"I don't mind," Clyde rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I could help warm you up," he offered.

He pulled y/n into his arms, her face buried against his chest. Her hands clutched his shirt. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like rain.

"There's a couple of things, I gotta finish around here," Clyde explained, slowly letting y/n go. "Maybe we can talk for a bit, or somethin' after."

Turns out y/n was having her own troubles with bad luck on this particular day. She had gotten lost trying to find her way to her destination. Got pulled over for a ticket, even though she didn't do a thing wrong. Then her car had broken down on the highway near the bar, and as she walking it started raining.

"I can give you a ride home," Clyde offered.

"I live pretty far, and with this rain and it being so late as it is, I don't really want to be a bother."

"I don't want to come on too strongly, but you can stay the night with me," Clyde suggested.

"Here, you can change into this," Clyde handed her one of his old t-shirts. He figured it would be long enough to fit her like a nightgown.

"I'll give you some privacy," he muttered, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Y/n pressed the shirt against her face, it smelled just like him. The material of shirt was nice and soft. It was obviously one he had worn a lot.

She undressed, taking off everything except for her panties. She pulled his shirt over her head. It barely covered her ass, but it would be appropriate enough to sleep in.

Y/n stepped out of the room to find Clyde waiting out in the hall. He smiled, admiring how good she looked in his shirt.

"I'll sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed," he mentioned.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"It'll be alright."

She rocked on her heels, trying to figure out how to say that she'd like for him to sleep with her. Y/n understood that he probably wanted to things somewhat slow, seeing how they just met, but she also had this need just be near him.

"Everything okay?" Clyde asked, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, he was so perfect in her eyes. She wanted to spend every moment she could with him.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable sleeping with me?" she finally asked.

How could Clyde say no to a suggestion like that? He nodded.

"I promise, I won't do anything that's improper or unwelcomed," he muttered with a serious look on his face.

"I know darlin'," y/n replied. She then stood on her tiptoes kissing him lightly on the lips.

They laid in bed together, her fingers playing with his hair that hung around his neck.

"Will you keep talking to me until I fall asleep?" she asked nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

"What about, turtle dove?"

"Anything, I just want to listen to you talk," y/n couldn't get enough of his voice, the way he spoke and his accent was all too appealing.

"Well, I could tell you about the time I went to juvie or the 3 months I recently spent in prison?"

"What did you do?" y/n asked looking at him wide-eyed, but smiling.

Clyde stroked her back while he started at the beginning, telling her about his brother and his cauliflower plans.

At some point they had fallen asleep, Clyde shifted a bit in bed. Y/n stirred in his arms, he held her closer to himself. He could feel her chest rise and fall in sync with his own breathing. He listened to her soft breaths and heartbeat falling back into a deeper sounder sleep.

In the morning, Clyde woke up but y/n was already gone. He felt slightly disappointed, seeing how he wanted to hold her as much as he could. He got out of bed and shuffled out of his bedroom.

"Mornin'! I hope you don't mind that I helped myself to your kitchen. Thought it would be nice to have breakfast together," she explained standing in front of the stove.

Clyde smiled to himself, she looked pretty darn cute concentrating while frying the eggs.

"Oh shoot! I think I burnt the bacon," y/n complained, pushing the pieces around with tongs.

Clyde chuckled walking up behind her.

"Just the way I like," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her from behind, kissing her shoulder.

Taglist: @skellingtonbatz , @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @letusunalivethem

#logan lucky #logan lucky fic #logan lucky fanfic #logan lucky fanfiction #logan lucky imagine #Clyde logan #clyde logan fanfic #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan imagine #Clyde logan fanfiction #adam driver #Soulmate au #soulmate #reader insert #logan lucky clyde logan

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tinyglowingsharks · 7 years ago

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Answer all the asks please. If you don't have the mental spoons for it then that's ok

lmao sure, thanks friend!

moon: what is your astrological sign?

Sagittarius (not avery good one)

gingerbread: your moral alignment

Neutral good

birdseed: family or friends?

Friends,probably. All the family I have time for are my friends anyway so

sheets: your sexual orientation

Bi if I’m with gaypeople or people who ‘don’t believe in labels’, queer with everyone else.

warm milk: when do you usually fallasleep?

About11:30-midnight, usually. I do not function well without enough sleep so Ihave to go to bed earlier than I would like, but then it takes me an hour or soto get to sleep anyway.

pot of honey: your gender identity

oh, it’s [loudnoise from passing truck obscures answer]. Gimme those they/them pronounsthough

snow: what is your favorite time ofyear and why

I like very earlyand very late summer. I like the end of spring where the days arestretching out and weather starts being consistently (ish, it’s still scotland)not awful, and everything feels optimistic and brighter. And then I like theends of summer when the air starts smelling of bonfires and the days are warmbut the evenings grow cooler and everything feels like snuggling and settlingin

yarn: what are your most enjoyablehobbies?

Love me someknitting, it’s really relaxing and gives me something to do with my hands andalso you get cool stuff out of it. Also I’m getting more into folkmusic/dancing recently - i was gonna say morris dancing but actually i don’treally like morris dancing as an art form, but I really like playing the musicand I love singing (hit me up for some filthy folk songs) and have gone to afew sessions and such which were really cool. And I really like folk danceslike ceilidh, bal and contra - I like the fact that each time I do it I’m lessshit. I am a bit of a baby on the scene but it’s still good, there’s usuallyalcohol to numb the embarrassment, and the people are really nice.

bicycle: what are you talented at?

Words. I am good atword-ing. Writing stuff, reading stuff, copy editing, etc. I am agood person for words.

folktale: what stories remind you ofyour childhood?

I read so much as achild and have so few memories of being a child in general that actually mostof the memories I have are mixed up with reading. But I guess some of thesignificant ones are Harry Potter (of course), Lord of the Rings, the VeryHungry Caterpillar (we did that as a school play and I was a strawberry), we’reall going on a bear hunt, His Dark Materials, the Earthsea trilogy, and Redwall. Also the Houndsof Morrigan and the myth of Niamh of the Golden Hair. Also, my dad was ahuge story teller. He used to do stories more or less on demand - I’dgive him prompts and he would make them up to order. Notable onesincluded one about a snail whose name I forget, one about the Penalty Fare, afunfair where people who committed civil misdemeanours went for punishment (ina masterful anticipation of Final Destination 3), and an ongoing series calledLittle Miss Good, Little Miss Bad and Little Miss Tries-to-be-good. Idon’t remember any of them clearly, but they are wound firmly in with memoriesof my dad and my childhood.

woods: where do you feel at peace?

The sea. Always, the sea. Anywhere quiet outdoors with big skies. GlasgowNecropolis.

chicken feet: what is your emotional“flaw”?

so many

red cheeks: what makes you nervous?

Was gonna say SOMANY but actually, not that much really? I draw a distinction between nerves and anxiety, which I have for daaaayyys(though not badly enough to be a major Thing). Mostly I get nervous about talking to my mum about difficult stuff, honestly.

sunflower: what do you love and cherish?

My friends, my mum, my Victorians, myPhD, my bisexuowls shawl, sharks.

bells: what sounds are your favorite or calm you the most?

The sound of the sea. The sound of wind chimes. The sound of the rain and wind. I struggle to listen to music because itmakes me think too much but repetitive, soothing nature sounds shut my brain upat least a little.

turnip: what is a food you could eat everyday?

Garlic. Doesgarlic count? it’s more an ingredient than a food but i’d happily eat it inmost things. As a first year in uni I ate so much raw garlic in a few days (cosI worked out how to make bruschetta) that I made myself sick, but these days Iwould garlic differently. Not just eating clove after close of crushed garlic.

spit: do you get jealous easily?

Not really

mushroom:list unique things you like about yourself

This is really hard – especially the ‘unique’ bit. I like that I’m an excellent speller and thatI have synaesthesia and that I have terrible handwriting.

cupboard:a good childhood memory

We used to occasionally go to the Snowdon region of Wales as a family, cosmy mum’s best friend at the time had a cottage there so it was free, and weinherited a lot of their traditions, one of which was this hill that the friend’shusband used to race up and down with his friends from a nearby (now long-gone)hostel before breakfast, giving it the name Breakfast Mountain (its actual nameis Brin Brith in case any of you know it, it is a fairly unremarkable hill inall respects except it is cherished of my family). We used to climb it whenever we visited,though not before breakfast. I have alot of good memories of climbing it but in particular one time I rememberstanding on the top with my dad and he did that thing where you hold a child bytheir arms and spin so they like fly out, on the edge of the mountin, so Iremember the warmth of the sun and my laughter and my dad’s hands on my wristand the flashing alternation of the estuary, far below, and the mountain top grass,a few feet from my face. I realise I’m talkingabout my dad a lot but I don’t remember a lot of my childhood and much of whatI do remember that is happy is either books or my dad.

eyebags:what do you think makes a person attractive?

God, it’s such a cliché but confidence can make a person attractive. Being a nice/good person makes themattractive too. So does beingfunny.

fallenlog: something you’ve gotten over that you never thought you would

Coincidentally, I have just accidentally stumbled over an email chain ofthe aftermath of a fairly messy breakup – the end of a major, 3 year, late-teens,unhealthy, rite of passage, heartbreak and drama, serious relationship. At the time it was a pretty big deal involvinglots of crying and a fair amount of drama, and thinking it would never end and I’d never be over it, but on looking back at the emails, Idon’t remember a lot of the gory details they allude to, and I have no feelingsabout it except relief that I ended it, albeit about two years too late. He’san MRA now so, bullet dodged

dagger:your worst fear

being completely unloved/losing everyone I love

whisper:do you have any secrets?

Yup.

wildboar: which person do you feel closest to?

I have a small collection of four people who are Very Important. Theyaren’t all friends with each other but they’re all people I’ve met in Glasgowand they are excellent in very distinct ways. I’m not gonna name them but I like to thinkthey know who they are. The one I feel closest to at any point varies but it isalways one of those people.

sweet:what candies or cakes are you fond of?

I like chocolate eclairs, I likelemony things, and I like werther’s originals cos I’m a grandad

footprints:do you remember your past lives?

Not a thing, sorry

fur:name an animal you feel connected to

I feel very connected with rodents. Especially guinea pigs. (aren’tyou surprised I didn’t say sharks)

vodka:do you drink?

Yeah! I didn’t really drink regularlytill I got to Glasgow, then after a couple years I mostly stopped cos I was TooSad to drink and didn’t have fun drunk. But then I started again when I joinedMorris dancing because I got over the thing I was sad about and Morris is avery alcohol-oriented sport. The people I hang out with are really fun to drinkwith and it’s drinking as socialising rather than drinking to get drunk which feelslike a Better Choice.

sourcherry: an obscure tradition from your family?

We aren’t a huge family for traditions, honestly, but one that me and mymum do (mostly at my behest honestly) is get a Christmas decoration to remembermy dad every year. He’s been dead almost20 years and we’ve been doing this consistently for about 15, so eventually thetree is going to be entirely eclectic stuff I’ve picked up over the years formy dad.

pineneedles: what is your favorite scent?

I really like rose, and I really like vanilla. I am about as boring as can be. I do notcare.

heart-shaped:do you believe in love? are you in love?

I think it’s hard not to believe in love. There are people I love, inlots of different ways

home:where do you dream of living?

Honestly, I want to stay where I am now. While being by the sea or going to the Netherlands appeals, I love mycity and the life I have built here.

spice:list your favorite herbs

I actually tend to prefer spices to herbs – gimme all your paprika andVanilla (is vanilla a spice???) and pepper – but I like basil, rosemary,lavender, lemon balm and sage.

mud:something you’re insecure about but trying to love

My entire self honestly.

tobacco:do you have any addictions?

Nope

sock:how would you describe your clothing taste?

Predictable. Give me a colourfulprint on a mid-thigh or knee length fit and flare or skater dress, and some blackleggings, and that is me happy. That isalso the entirety of my wardrobe.

cuckooclock: are you a morning, a noon, or an evening person?

Depends on what youwant me for. I’m best at productivity early in the morning, but terribleat social skills. I’m best at like, physical tasks and walks and stuff in theafternoon when I’m properly awake and feeling restless, and best at socialisingin the evening (but not too late cos my brain falls out at about 10pm).

woodenfence: a favorite memory

When I was in undergrad I fell, predictably, into the DnD crowd, and Ihave lots of really nice memories of that time. Including: sleeping over after dnd, which was basically not sleeping butstaying up talking quietly about the sort of thing you can only talk about onsomeone else’s floor at 4 in the morning, and not sleeping over after DnD, butwalking the 3 miles uphill from the town to the university, again quietlytalking, and if you timed it right you’d get to the top of the hill just atdawn and you’d see the sun rising over campus like a promise, Seeing dawn from the ‘other’ side, going tobed after it rather than waking up before it, still feels really special to me.

#i love getting asks #thanks friend #about me #like more shit than anyone ever really needed to know about me #certainly killed snow day time though #long post

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shianhygge-imagines · 8 years ago

Text

Persona 5 Headcanon: Studying w/ The Phantom Thieves

A lack of P5 imagines here... And so, to begin finals week, I’m gonna take advantage of it. :P :3 I got you fam. [I haven’t finished playing through the game, so some characters might be shorter than others... I literally only just finished changing Madarame’s heart]

|Masterlist Link|

Just fyi, I’ve been a Persona fan since P4′s first month of release... so before everyone’s hype... which actually seems to be the trend in my interests... After playing through P4, I played through P3... then P3P because I wanted to play as a girl (can’t blame me, I’m attracted to Shinjiro and Akihiko... >.>;) Then, I played through Persona 4 Golden, then PQ ;#

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Protagonist/Akira Kurusu/Shin Akaashi

- It might not seem like it, but Shin actually dedicates a bit of his time to studying the class material that he has no problem taking on the task of helping you study.

- If you’re a friend of his, no matter how difficult to make friends with him it is... he’ll dedicate his time to make you understand the various concepts no matter how simply or tricky. Don’t bother asking Shin for help studying if you don’t really know him. He might be kind, but he’s honestly got better things to be doing, so he’ll turn a stranger down unless it benefits his goals.

- Shin is an all around student, a jack of all trades, if you will.

- If you’re his significant other, all cards are on the table. If he’d taken notes in class (if because he often daydreams in class), those notes will get copied and placed in your hands within the day.

- everything you have trouble with... will be gone over... and Shin would even skip a day or two in the Metaverse in order to help you. (lucky lucky~~~)

- things might get a bit... frisky if you guys are alone for too long though... Shin’s very mischievous and he loves you to bits, often being unable to keep his arms from snaking around your waist and pulling you flush towards his body. He’ll reward you with kisses if you do well on your practice problems...

- and if you do well on your exams... he’s offered to let you do with him what you want... for an entire day... don’t pass up this opportunity to have him under your thumb.

Ryuji Sakamoto

- Ryuji... isn’t the most academically inclined individual in the school... he really tries to understand the school work [he really genuinely tries, the poor babe], but... you would often find yourself explaining to him about the various concepts involved in pre-calculus.... yeah... you’ll be doing a sort of backwards studying if you want to study with Ryuji...

- like studying the material by explaining it to someone else... it actually works, because it requires you to take the information, process it, then try to explain it in a different way... (seriously, this method of studying is one of the best).

- he’s pretty good with things like history and literature, although he’s purely average... and he’s abysmal in math and science. Now that I think about it, he’s like me and Chemistry... We get a little further when we try, but we’re still only average.

- Ryuji, my precious ball of sunshine... he’s easily happy and easily saddened... cheer him on and encourage him to get him in the mood to study more. Once his mood goes downhill, he’s more prone to not studying.

- Ryuji is also a bit... grabby? I mean, it’s easy for him to touch you, hug you, kiss you... but he’s still a bit iffy on people touching him. I mean, he’s a bright ball of sunshine and doesn’t really flinch away, but just be careful with him. Slow touches, not really rough, and always be affectionate. By all means though, don’t baby him.

- Reward him with nape kisses... >///< It gets him so flustered, the red travels noticeably and slowly from his shoulders up. And he’s not used to the love, so expect him to get a little shy and cute.

Ann Takamaki

- The “dumb blonde” stereotype doesn’t apply to Ann. In fact, Ann is around average with her studies! :3 Despite being a model, and a member of the Phantom Thieves, she’s been able to keep up with her studies. [better than myself, who still has trouble balancing schoolwork, writing, a job, and a social life...]

- Ann’s specialty lies with history, English, literature, and gym... not that you really have to study for gym... so maybe health ed?

- Despite the fact that she texts in class with Akira and Ryuji... and the rest of the Phantom Thieves... her notes are actually pretty decent and concise. I mean, not on Makoto’s standard of “concise notes,” but pretty freaking close. Her handwriting is average, large and cutesy, which can make it difficult to read sometimes, but the notes itself covers the basics of what you need to know to do a little better than pass.

- She’s borderline average in the math and science department, so you could help each other with topics that you don’t understand.

- If you want to reward Ann for doing great at practice problems, give her some pastries. If you want to reward her for doing really well on her exams, and you have the money to spend, treat her to the buffet deserts at the fancy hotel...

Morgana

- Morgana doesn’t need to study, silly. But he’s pretty good at helping you if you’re really that desperate... But only for things like language...? Or history???

- You can count on Morgana making comments while you study, left and right.

- That is... if you can understand him in the first place.

Yusuke Kitagawa

- Yusuke... Yusuke, Yusuke, Yusuke... Oh gosh, what am I going to do with this boy... First off, let’s get out of the way that, yes, Yusuke is VERY smart. In fact, he’s calculating and sly, too. BUT! He’s a naive little foxy that doesn’t get most social norms.

- You can expect Yusuke to be near the top of his class, but since he’s passionate about his art, it’s not likely he has the will to try for the absolute top. That being said, Yusuke’s intelligence rivals Makoto, Akira, and Akechi’s, especially in the social sciences, but he’s pretty exceptional in math and science as well.

- An artist’s mind works on a whole other spectrum than the normal person’s. Artists make associations with nearly everything they encounter, and they analyze deeply. Sometimes, the information an artist receives, could be the opposite of what other people conclude. Just know, that if you ask Yusuke for study tips, you might be in for a baffling ride if you don’t think on the same wavelength as him.

- That being said, if you want him to tutor you, be ready for him to teach you the proper way... but with random bursts of pausing... An artist, whether it be painting, sketching, writing, or creating music, often has pauses in their productiveness because of ideas that spontaneously pop up out of nowhere.

- That is, if you’re the one helping Yusuke, let’s say his grades have slipped a little due to his artwork or his work in the Phantom Thieves, expect yourself nearly at the end of your wits most of the time while you tutor him. Yusuke takes his studying seriously, but you just can’t help the fact that he’ll pause to stare at something that’s caught his interest.

- Reward this precious baby with new art supplies, healthy snacks, occasional candies, or even pay for his meals (don’t let him starve on only beansprouts). If you’re particularly close to him, give Yusuke little kisses or gently caress him, to reward him for a job well done.

Makoto Niijima

- Ah the epitome of the perfect student. She’s at the top of her class because of all her hard work, so she’s strong in all subjects. It almost makes you resent her... almost. As with most Asian mentality, doing well in school equals success in life. Eventually, Makoto learns that this isn’t always so, and she begins to tone it down on her ‘overachieving nature’...

- She still manages to be an overachiever without trying though...

- Makoto’s notes are very detailed, with her often taking notes in class, then later reading the textbook material before re-writing her notes with what the teacher taught in class and including the extra details from her own research.

Futaba Sakura

- She’s a genius hacker, shut in with agoraphobia... unless you want her to teach you how to hack... don’t count on her helping you with your studies too much....

- But you could help her with slowly getting over her phobia... difficult task, no doubt, but slowly expose her to more human contact using studying as the medium. Okay? Slowly though.

Haru Okumura

- I admit she’s a bit spoiled and naive, but she’s decently smart, above average definitely, but not as smart as someone like Makoto, Akira, Yusuke, or Akechi.

- She’ll have private tutors on the side, so if you ever need help, you could always tag along in her study sessions, money isn’t a problem with Haru, she’s glad to be able to have a friend to study with.

- Ah, but she’s also the type to get a bit distracted when around people, so you have to be the one to keep her on track and focused!

Goro Akechi

- This idiot... this Light Yagami-like idiotic dorky “pancake” genius detective, doesn’t even get to go to school that often. Despite going to the same prestigious school as Yusuke, his work requires him to neglect his studies.

- Don’t be mistaken, Akechi can easily give Makoto, Akira, and Yusuke a run for their money in the academic field.

- Studying with Akechi will be sporatic, sometimes you can go days studying with him undisturbed, and then there are days where you never see him. It’s not a very stable study relationship, but if you don’t mind the inconsistencies, go ahead and study with him. More often than not, he could use the affection and companionship.

- But also, pancakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #persona 5 #persona #persona headcanons #persona 5 headcanons #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 protagonist #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #morgana #persona 5 morgana #goro akechi #futaba sakura #okumura haru #studying headcanons #persona 5 imagines

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