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heliocharis · 2 years

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Left My Friend’s Body Outside the Mithraeum: One New Zealander’s account of the New Zealand stuff in Nona the Ninth

A few points before we begin:

I’ve quoted everything out of context, but probably don’t read this if you don’t want to be spoiled for the book.

I’m just one person (a Pākehā North Islander millennial, for context), but hopefully I caught most of it. Please tell me if you see anything I missed!

If you see something and think, ‘Tumblr user junozeta, why have you included this piece of information when it is very easily Google-able,’ it’s for the sake of completeness.

Kia ora!

Dramatis personae

Stop It, name assumed, lies under counter at dairy, red colour, big sized, four legs

Dairy: A corner store.

John 20:8

Dilworth. Otago. Auckland. Overseas to Corpus. (She likes the word corpus; it sounds nice and fat.) Then another year abroad, where he got the grant and met the men who would make things happen. Special pleading with the New Zealand government and Asia-Pacific Environmental, at his suggestion, then back to the facility outside Greytown.

Here John is reciting his credentials. Dilworth is a private boys’ boarding school in Auckland. (ETA: Please see this reblog by sixth-light for better context.) Auckland and Otago will be referring to the universities, which are notably the only two in NZ with medical schools. I will add that having studied more in NZ than overseas does not afford you a lot of prestige.

Greytown is a small town (population 2,720 as of 2021) in the lower North Island, near Wellington. (I note here that Trentham, the presumptive namesake of the Second House’s Trentham, is also near Wellington, as is Maymorn, which Tamsyn Muir has said Mercymorn was originally named after.)

Chapter 1

“Is that pikelet mix?” she said.

Pikelet: Like a pancake, but smaller and denser.

Palamedes stood like he was playing a game of Hot Chocolate and the tagger was looking right at him. Hot Chocolate was in fashion with her friends at the moment and Nona wanted to get really good at it.

Putting this here to state for the record that I’m not familiar with Hot Chocolate as a name for a game of that kind. (ETA: An anon was, though, as a different name for Red Light, Green Light. See, not all of NZ is the same.)

I’ve met leaders like Unjust Hope before.

“Unjust Hope” could be from “The Ikons” by James K. Baxter, a famous New Zealand poet.

John 5:20

He said, It was the last one that was getting to me. I knew all those bodies by name. Funny to say, but they were my mates, you know? I’d worked on them for such a long time, and they’d given us so much, and now they were going to get dumped in some concrete skip because after what we’d done to them they couldn’t be cremated or buried safely. I hated that.

Mates: Friends. Classic Kiwi.

Skip: A dumpster.

I didn’t have to worry about the public or the media—we had a pet cop, P—. She’d made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD.

MoD: Probably self-explanatory, but Ministry of Defence.

We only had the demo cans; the mass-produced ones were made in a Five Eyes factory in Shenzhen.

Five Eyes: A surveillance alliance between NZ, Australia, the UK, the US, and Canada. As of 2022, not actively military, nor ostensibly involved with China. Much to think about.

I went around to everyone, talking to my favourites—I know it was weird having favourites, but let’s bloody face it, I’d gone weird—not even saying goodbye, just saying it’ll be fine, hang on for me, kia kaha, kia māia.

Kia kaha, kia māia: Well-known Māori phrase meaning “be strong, be brave”.

John 15:23

You wouldn’t believe how stupid guys get over compliments on our looks, I was vain as.

Vain as: “[adjective] as” is a classic Kiwi way to say that something is extremely [adjective].

P— said I looked like a Māori TV Pink Panther.

Māori TV: Worth noting here that this is a TV channel, and not a generic reference.

Someone’s Honda. Someone’s Mazda. Someone’s four-wheel drive. Someone’s shed. A Macca’s sign.

Shed: A garage.

Macca’s: McDonald’s.

A— and M— moved in with me, and G— set up outside; he was sleeping in his ute. C— was staying with N—, long days. She left us early in the morning and came back the next day with sausage rolls for breakfast.

Ute: A pickup truck. (Short for “utility vehicle”.)

Sausage rolls: A classic NZ food.

You hear all the cicadas in the grass, you hear the dogs in the next town over barking. You hear the moreporks in the trees and the possums skittering over shed roofs.

Morepork: A native owl (Ninox novaeseelandiae).

Possums: Worth noting that NZ has the Australian kind (Trichosurus vulpecula).

He was the bravest dog I’d ever met. Half Chihuahua, half pug. Nan called him Ulysses S. Grunt.

Maybe worth noting here that “Grant” and “Grunt” are pronounced much more alike in an NZ accent than they would be in a North American one.

Chapter 9

Cam ducked into a bakery and came out with a warm and probably radioactive paper bag of pastries that had been under the bakery light the whole time.

Almost certainly a reference to this iconic cultural moment.

She had already got her towel and the old shirt she used to swim in—much easier to go naked, but the others had all objected to this, and Cam had said it would make her a sniper target—and her jandals, and then after masks were tied and hats put on they walked to the beach in the low dusk.

Jandals: Flip-flops. Classic Kiwi.

“I’d give Palamedes the hiding of his fucking life if he wasn’t renting an ass with you.”

Hiding: A beating.

John 5:18

They were lying head-to-head, their eyes aimed at the right part of the sky to see, or in this case not see, the Southern Cross.

Southern Cross: The constellation on the NZ flag. Known formally as, of course, Crux.

There was so much to figure out. But I’d got a dream team on tap, eh? People who could think. C—’s N—, she was on board. C— was still pretending they weren’t dating—she was an artist, so that was cool. If you have two scientists and an engineer and a detective and a lawyer and an artist you’re pretty much sweet as.

Eh: We tend to end sentences with this quite a lot (though of course it’s not just us).

Sweet as: “all good”. Classic Kiwi.

Back then we thought maybe there was something about the ground, something about our particular patch in the Wairarapas, but if we loaded up the ute with a bunch of bodies and looked out for the cops we could do the same thing anywhere else.

The Wairarapas: The region of NZ where Greytown is located. This is an informal way to refer to it, its proper name being the Wairarapa.

“Is that pikelets, Pyrrha? You’re a legend.”

Calling someone a legend to express approval, while not new, has become deeply entrenched in the local consciousness over the last decade or so, thanks to a recognisable anti-drink driving campaign. (If you’ve heard of the “ghost chips” ad, it’s one of those.)

Chapter 12

Crown Him with Many Crowns Thy Full Gallant Legions He Found It in Him to Forgive

He Found It in Him to Forgive: Lyrics from a classic NZ song, “Dominion Road” by The Mutton Birds.

“Why does Pash hate us so much?”

Worth noting here that “pash” (both a noun and a verb) is slang for making out.

John 8:1

You’ve got a wizard out in the wop-wops who’s now got blanket bans from nearly every video upload site and a whole bunch of people have entered the country because of his YouTube channel, the government isn’t all, Love that small-business entrepreneur spirit.

The wop-wops: The middle of nowhere. Often just “the wops”.

Didn’t mention that I’d only gone to Parachute ’cause of the underage drinking.

Parachute: A Christian music festival that existed from 1992 to 2014.

She’d won medals for competition shooting back north in Hamilton, but we’re not talking Jesse James. We’re talking Hamilton.

Hamilton: A city in the North Island (it’s the next city south of Auckland) which it is nationally popular to disparage, especially if you’re from Auckland (this is mutual).

Chapter 16

Crown Prince Kiriona Gaia

Kiriona: Transliteration of “Gideon” into te reo Māori.

“It can’t be my blood. It must be someone else’s. Maybe it’s tomato sauce.”

Pretty throwaway, this one, but when she says tomato sauce this is the kind I think of.

Chapter 18

“Whew!” said Nona. “Is the classroom munted?”

Munted: Busted, fucked up.

John 5:1

There was a lot of it, but we had a lot of people who needed a feed. We sat there with the window cracked so G— could hear us while he manned the barbie, which in the dark gets unwholesome as hell, and we ate off paper plates, and I told them …

A feed: A meal.

Barbie: I think this one should be easy.

He said, Which just goes to show that only getting to NCEA Level 2 isn’t going to stop you making waves in life, right. You can still eat steak, talk to wizards, and take down the government.

NCEA Level 2: This is the qualification you get in your second-to-last year of high school (typically at age 16, which is the age at which you can leave school), and has historically been the minimum you need for university entrance.

This is fairly easy to infer anyway, but John et al. being young enough to have done NCEA (it was introduced in the early 2000s) and old enough to have gone to Parachute to underage drink tells you pretty soundly that they’re millennials.

John 3:20

He said, So I went to the governments that were still sympathetic, sort of, like ours, and all the Trans-Pacifics, and we threw down our evidence.

Probably referring to the TPP.

Not only that, they looked at us and were like, We were going to put you fellas in jail, weren’t we?

Pronounce this as “fullas”, with the U as in “up”.

John 9:22

A bunch of the guys were her old coworkers—guys she’d gone through training with in Porirua, beer buddies.

Porirua: A small city near Wellington.

John 1:20

He said, So here’s us, planning to meet these agents in neutral territory, across the ditch, over in the huddle where the Territory refugees were.

The ditch: The Tasman Sea.

But they weren’t only aggro about G—, they were aggro that a nuke might go off and kill a couple million people. I was like, Guys, it’s fine, they’re Australian.

There’s a rivalry.

John 5:4

Like those old power-washing ads. Spray and walk away, right?

A very recognisable series of ads.

(End of post! If you have learned anything, I’ll be stoked.)

#this is what i was put on earth for #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #locked tomb originals

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fanfictionlibrary · 1 year

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Spider Lilies and the Sun (Alec x Reader)

A Twilight fanfiction

Author's note: Check out my blog. I take requests <3

Carefully, you tried to draw the spider lilies that were lying on the wooden table in front of you. Your pencil drew a line here and there, deepening the shadows or adding a new leaf. It was difficult for you to capture the lightning appropriately on the thick parchment that you studied for a moment, drawing your head back to create some distance. To some extent you were satisfied with what you have produced so far. You have never been especially good at drawing, but somehow you have a hand for illustrating the beauty of flowers just enough to distinguish yourself from a beginner. But if you would ever reach the skills of a professional artist was hard to say… Only time could tell.

While you drew, you listened to the conversation between Heidi, Chelsea, and Corin. The three vampires were sitting on the sofas that were situated in the middle of the drawing room of the Volturi’s castle. Soft sunlight shone through the windows, and you had opened one in the corner you had isolated yourself in. The temperate late summer breeze smelled wonderful, tickling your nostrils and helping you relax.

“Have you heard that the coven in France tried to trick the Kings?” asked Heidi in her enticing voice, playing with her dark hair as her legs were swung over the armrest of the armchair that she was lounging in. Her short skirt had hiked up dangerously, but Heidi knew how to be classy without coming off as cheap. Her legs were pressed together, revealing nothing inappropriate.

Chelsea nodded vigorously, not looking up from the book she was reading. “Of course, we have heard,” she remarked. Her tone was stoic and cold, but she didn’t mean it. You had learned that she was generally nice and didn’t have any mean intentions. But that was all. You would never expect a selfless act from her. Not from any of the vampires living in Volterra. “The French coven was the reason why Aro sent the twins, Demetri, and Felix to investigate. After all, the coven’s leader claimed that they have created a newborn with extraordinary abilities. The rumor spread like wildfire and eventually reached us, the Volturi. How could it not?”

Corin snorted and shook her head in disbelief. “Turned out the coven leader boasted a little too much.”

“Right,” chimed in Heidi, chuckling. “Apparently, they wanted to bargain with the Kings and offer the newborn for a price. But said newborn didn’t possess any special abilities at all. When Demetri and Felix called to inform the Kings, they mentioned that Alec was absolutely livid.” With a knowing grin, she looked at you and caught your eye. Quickly you looked back down at your sheet, acting like that strange and yet familiar name hadn’t caught your attention. Heidi’s voice sounded insinuating when she added, “We all know that lately he has no room for unnecessary distractions that could lead him astray from the castle.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t say why. Only that Alec, even just the mention of his name, induced you with extreme nervousness. And a giddiness that you had tried to suppress by distracting yourself and drinking lots of water to drown the butterflies in your stomach. Alec. He was mesmerizing, absolutely enchanting. And also the reason why you, as a human, found yourself among vampire royalty. One day you decided to take a walk and breathe fresh air. While you were walking through the forest, looking defeated at your feet because the pressure that came with your studies really got to you that day, a pair of polished, expensive shoes came into view. Surprised, you looked up, staring into the beautiful red eyes of a young man who towered over you. Considering his insatiable stare, you probably should have been afraid, but you weren’t. There was something oddly calming about the way he gazed at you and how the wheels in his head seemed to turn before they finally clicked, and his hungry stare was replaced with a deep softness. Then, black mist enveloped you, and after many hours of traveling, you found yourself in Volterra.

You had been living with the vampires for a little over three months and found it hard to adjust to your new life. You hadn’t been told why Alec brought you to Volterra, but the Kings had informed you that one day when the time was ripe, you would become one of them. You had no clue when the time would be ripe, but for now, that was unimportant.

You were glad that everyone realized that you needed a lot of space and time alone. You had your own room and designated corners – like the one in the drawing room – that were solely reserved for you. Whenever you decided to take refuge in these places, everyone knew you wanted to be left alone. Fortunately, everyone was patient with you and answered your questions whenever you had any. The vampires learned to respect your boundaries, or rather, they had known how to do that all along since they were territorial beings. In turn, you learned to respect their limits and expectations. For example, you had to stay in your chamber when they fed in the throne room or when trials were being held. During these times, the vampires were especially busy, and no one could keep an eye on you to make sure you were not becoming a snack for the lower guard.

As for Alec... you got along fine. There were moments when he seemed like he wanted to open up to you, but then he would withdraw suddenly, sitting down somewhere and watching you with a wistful expression while you read or drew. He kept you at arms-length: close enough but not too close. He didn’t want to give you away either. If anything, he was strangely possessive, and at the same time, aloof. He would be attentive one day, and the next he would pretend like you didn’t exist. It drove you insane.

Well, at the beginning it did… After some frustrating nights, when you couldn’t sleep because of his behavior, you decided it was not worth spending the energy you needed on overthinking. You would just do you, stick to yourself, and be nice to Alec when he approached you. But you would refuse to seek him out. Your pride and self-respect put you first in this confusing connection with the vampire. You had never been in love, always waiting for the right one. Of course, you met men and thought that they might be your forever person only to end up disappointed because it turned out they were only being nice to you for sexual fun. Something you never gave them. Now, Alec was a classy guy. He was the type to court respectfully, and if he wanted some fun, he would be straightforward. Nonetheless, his intentions were anything but clear to you. So, you sought stability in yourself; if he had something to say, he could always do it, but you wouldn’t run after him.

Honestly, you were glad when you heard that he would go on a mission to France. His name was playing on repeat in your head like a prayer whether he was present or not, and you did need some time to yourself to get that foolish heart of yours, which sometimes beat like you were love-struck, in check again. And so far, it had worked wondrously. In the past few days, you had barely thought about him at all.

“So,” began Corin, resuming the conversation about the French coven, “what happened to the coven? Did Alec act on his anger? Lately, he has been inclined to do so. His emotions are running high. Higher than usual.”

Heidi giggled excitedly. “Well, luckily, Felix and Demetri could talk him out of it. The coven got away with a warning. The twins, the giant, and the tracker should return today.”

Your throat constricted. You didn’t know if you really wanted to see Alec. Hopefully, he would just ignore you. But your hopes were crushed. Two hours later the door to the drawing room opened, and Alec came inside. The girls stopped talking abruptly, looking between you and the elite guard. Alec’s posture was imposing, and with one narrowed glance and a barely noticeable tilt of his head, he commanded them to leave. Sighing and voicing their discontent, Heidi, Corin, and Chelsea left. The thud of the door when it closed sounded too foreboding. You focused on your drawing - you had begun with another one, not quite satisfied with your first try.

You hoped that Alec would just sit on the sofa, but unfortunately, he drew up a chair opposite you, and you focused on the movement of your pencil, not looking up.

His voice was deep and warm when it rang out. “How have you been? Are you well?”

“I’m good,” you replied stubbornly, making it clear that you didn’t want to talk to him. But Alec did not defer. He picked up your first drawing. That was when you gazed up anxiously at him. You didn’t want him to see your art. Why? Because in a way, you depended on his validation. What if he didn’t think of your drawing as good enough? Then you would suck it up and live with it. You wouldn’t let it affect your motivation for your artistic nature though.

The corners of Alec’s mouth were raised slightly when he saw your anxious expression, knowing he got to you. But if he hadn’t been sitting so close to you, you would have thought he was wearing his typical inscrutable expression. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs, holding your crafted spider lily up with one hand while he examined it, and gripping the armrest with his other hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves. That was unusual… The hand on the armrest glittered as it caught the sunlight. It was the only body part of his that was exposed to the sun. He didn’t like to shine in the sunlight. When you first saw how his skin reacted to the sun, he became angry. Not with you. But with the sun, you think. You were taking a stroll through the garden together, and when you reached up to touch his cheek as it began to glow, he pushed you away and told you to leave. That hurt.

“Hmmm…” Alec hummed, nodding. “You are improving. You have a talent for drawing.” With care, he placed the paper down on the desk.

Your body betrayed you when your heart rate picked up and your cheeks flushed pink. You were beyond happy. Somehow you managed to suppress the reply – “Do you really think so?” – that was beginning to form. You bit your tongue hard.

“How was France?” you asked instead.

“I have been there many times. It was worthwhile. As always.”

“Good to hear.”

“I would like to visit it with you someday. I have been there so often that it has become a little… boring and stale. But I feel like your presence would make the atmosphere special again.”

Suspiciously, you narrowed your eyes. Here we go again with the ambiguous meanings… “What do you mean? Alec, sorry, but you have not been exactly welcoming towards me. One moment you are hot, and the other you are cold and don’t let me in. I still don’t know why you brought me to this shit hole in which I’m supposed to spend eternity. You owe me a lot of explanations.”

His eyes studied you. He contemplated long, his red orbs wandering down to your collarbone and noting how well your cropped cardigan and your high-waisted jeans fitted you. Your body was bliss to him. Your personality meant salvation. He had to come forward. He knew he was being unfair, and how could he be unjust to someone he loved?

Without warning, he pushed back his chair, creating a scraping sound, and stood up. He walked towards you, grabbing the backrest of your stool and turning it around. You were now looking up at him, and your heart stuttered as he lowered his torso, placing his hands on the armrests, caging you. His brown, thick locks fell in front of his forehead, and his red orbs bored holes into the core of your soul. You nervously played with your hands in your lap, biting your lips.

“Don’t do that,” he spoke softly, his breath fanning your face.

“What?”

“Biting your lip. You always do it when you are nervous or stressed. You have been doing it while I was gone.” He used his thumb to smooth your lips. You swallowed hard at the skin contact. “I can see little wounds.” Was that why he decided to not wear gloves? Had he been planning to initiate physical contact?

You pushed his hand away. “What do you want?”

“Fine,” he grunted, straightening himself up. “I will be blunt about it.”

“Naturally.”

“You are my mate,” he admitted. Carefully, he studied your reserved features. But you felt anything but reserved. You were elated. Finally, you found the love you had always wished for. You had envied the connection Afton and Chelsea shared, how they gazed at each other with unprecedented adoration. Often, you had watched them interacting, wondering when you could not only be loved like Afton loved Chelsea but when you could finally look as ardently at someone the way Chelsea stared at Afton. You wanted to love, too. Not just be loved. What you and Alec could have… maybe that would rival their connection and put them to shame.

“What do you think?” Alec asked, testing the waters.

“Only that it all makes sense now. My palpitating heart when you are near or how I can’t get your name out of my head.” Contemplatively, you looked up at Alec. “That’s why you brought me to Volterra. When we met in the forest, you sensed that I was your mate.”

“I did.”

You stood up, bringing your hands to his cheeks. He brought your foreheads together, and you enjoyed the coldness of his touch. On a warm summer day, there was no one you wanted to bury yourself in more passionately than Alec.

“You fear this connection as much as I do,” you whispered. “That’s why you are sometimes so aloof. You are afraid of getting hurt. So am I. And honestly, in your presence, I find it hard to think straight. It is like my emotions don’t belong to me but to you.”

“Yes. They spiral out of control, and only you, as my counterpart, can reach them. Tame them.”

“Then I will cherish them and hold them close. You have nothing to fear, Alec.”

Tentatively Alec closed the gap between the two of you, tasting your lips in a reassuring kiss. It seemed that you had nothing to fear either.

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luvsfootball · 6 months

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wildest dreams - aurelien tchouameni.

requested by - @certainsaturn

author’s note - this is specified to an asian reader!

you were panicking.

it was your first time travelling by aeroplane, usually depending on cars or trains. but today you couldn’t seeing as though you were going from valencia to boredeaux.

you were texting your sister who was telling you to just go and get something to eat and stop worrying. after paying, you walked off to a lounge close by where your plane was taking off from.

a boy, around your age, was sitting there, half asleep but trying to keep himself awake. he had a travel pillow wrapped around his neck and you tried to hold in your laughs at how silly he looked.

“excuse me, is this plane flying to bordeaux?”

he opened his eyes at your sudden question, confused for a moment but he nodded. “yes, it shouldn’t be too long now.”

aurelien could sense how nervous you were. “first time?”

“yes. can you tell?”

he gave you a sympathetic smile. he still remembered the first time he flew by plane, and it definitely wasn’t an experience to be remembered.

“what are you going to bordeaux for?” he wondered. “i’m a music producer. going to work with an upcoming artist over there.”

“i’m just visiting family until work starts up again,” he told you, trying to play it cool.

the noise came over the speakers to tell you that your flight was boarding. both of you stood up, and you said goodbye and wished each other a safe journey.

“i’m aurelien, by the way.”

“y/n. it was nice to meet you.”

aurelien was a couple of people behind you in the queue to board and when he got on, he was surprised to see you in the seat next to him.

“well, this is a coincidence,” he laughed, relaxing into the seat.

he figured that if you were going to be sitting together for the rest of the flight, he might as well get to know you for a bit.

“so, where are you from?”

“singapore originally, but when i got my job i work all over. i lstill live in singapore, though. what do you do for work?”

aurelien didn’t want to sound big-headed, but he was surprised you didn’t know who he was. “i’m a footballer. that’s where i’m coming back from, actually. i’m just not travelling with my teammates because i’m visiting my family.”

you raised your eyebrows, double checking him to see if you recognised him but you didn’t. “sorry, i don’t really keep up with sports or anything like that.”

“don’t worry, i don’t keep up with music producing either,” he laughed, cracking a joke to try and make you cheer up because the flight was about to take off.

things between you and aurelien were going great and you really hit it off. you both walked to the exit of the airport together, and even exchanged numbers.

“so, y/n. where are you staying?”

“oh, just some hotel. my manager said he was going to set it up for me.”

aurelien pondered on the thought for a moment. if he invited you back to his family home, you could stay there free of charge and he could at least have a friend instead of just him and his parents.

“i know we just met and everything, but do you want to stay at mine? it’s close by and free.”

you had just met aurelien, and he wondered if he was being too pushy or creepy by inviting you to stay at his.

but to be honest, you didn’t want to be alone in a hotel and if his parents were there, surely everything would be okay.

“sure, why not.”

he hailed a taxi and you both got in the back, aurelien directing him to his family home.

it was a beautiful house in the country, with a lake for fishing and even a patch for fruit and vegetables. “my mum takes pride in her house, but she’s a lovely woman. i think she’ll like you.”

his family dog immediately jumped on you when you entered and you cuddled him, leaving aurelien to let his parents know about you.

when his mum came out, she seemed like a really nice woman, rushing you off the kitchen to show you her new plants and things.

his family were extremely welcoming and loved you, constantly telling aurelien that they think you were the one for him.

but he’d push them away in private, telling them you were just a friend and nothing more.

it had been an amazing year for aurelien. you were living in madrid for a while due to work when he told you that real madrid want him to play for them.

you were aware of the football club, how could you not be?

they were one of the most decorated clubs in history and you were incredibly proud of aurelien for getting a transfer there.

he had been apartment hunting ever since he touched down in madrid, and it wasn’t going well. so you offered your home to him until he found somewhere.

but there was a problem.

aurelien was bringing back women every now and then. most of the time, you’d spend the night out somewhere to leave them be, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous.

all of the women looked different to you, and it made you upset. you cried on the phone to your sister plenty of times, confessing how you really liked him, more than a friend.

he obviously had a type, and they didn’t look like you.

“hey, is it okay if i bring eduardo over tonight? just for dinner?”

“yeah, sure.”

you didn’t mind one bit. eduardo was a likeable guy and always made you laugh and feel good about yourself.

when he got here, you pulled him in for a hug. he returned it, ignoring aurelien’s little glare and asked how you had been.

you all ordered some takeout food, eating it whilst watching a movie. that was when aurelien’s phone began ringing and he left the room to answer.

you and eduardo listened in discreetly and it was obvious he was talking to a girl. “you like him, don’t you?”

your head shout up, signalling for him to be quiet. if aurelien knew, you were scared it would ruin the friendship and leave. “please don’t tell anyone.”

“i won’t. you know he likes you too, right?”

scoffing, you shook your head and sighed, “i’m not even his type. i’m-i’m just his friend…”

eduardo chose not to touch on the subject again for the rest of the night in front of aurelien, until he said he was going out for the night.

“oh, where are you going?”

“just to see some woman i met on a dating app.”

it felt like your heart had been took out of your chest and stomped all over. you should have been used to it by now, but the thought of him with someone else was upsetting.

“i’ll walk down with you. i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

eduardo kissed your cheek as the two boys left your apartment together.

as they were in the lift, eduardo wanted to help you both in some way. and the only way he could that wasn’t nice, but it would be worth it to see his two friends happy together.

“i was um… i was thinking of asking y/n out on a date.”

aurelien stopped texting the woman, turning his phone off to look at eduardo. “are you serious?”

“yep. she’s a very beautiful woman and she’s kind to me. i think i like her.”

suddenly his date didn’t feel important to him anymore. not after eduardo had confessed that to him.

“how was your date?”

aurelien was surprised to see you still awake seeing as though you were supposed to be flying out to america tomorrow for the grammy awards.

if he was being honest, aurelien blew her off. told her some bullshit about ‘a family emergency.’

his mood had totally soured after he had left eduardo and he just walked around town for a bit before coming back.

“i didn’t go,” he confessed. you furrowed your eyebrows, standing up to go and check if he was okay. he didn’t look it.

aurelien was tearing up.

“what’s wrong? did she do something to you?”

“no, no. it’s my fault, really.”

confusion filled you. what was wrong with him?

you grabbed his hands, pulling him into you. it was something you had been doing for ages. whenever he was upset, you’d pull him in for a hug and he’d spill.

but he didn’t move.

he pulled away.

“what is it?”

you were worried. the frenchman sighed and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands.

“i was speaking to eduardo earlier. he-he said he was going to ask you on a date.”

it was news to you. eduardo hadn’t even shown an ounce of interest in you in that sense, and then it hit you. you knew exactly what he was doing.

“and what’s that got to do with your date?”

“it ruined my mood.”

you scoffed, crossing your arms, “why would eduardo asking me out ruin your mood?”

aurelien looked at you like you were stupid. how did you not know that he liked you?

“because i like you!” he burst out, moving towards you now and grabbing your own hands.

“me? you like me?”

aurelien sighed, shaking his head and whispering, “why wouldn’t i like you?”

“i thought i wasn’t your type.”

“how can you not be anyone’s type? you’re gorgeous!”

his words felt like a warm blanket being wrapped around you, sparking fireworks in your stomach that you didn’t even know was possible.

you could tell he was waiting for an answer but you were rendered speechless. never in your wildest dreams did you think aurelien would be stood there, confessing he liked you.

“you are the girl i want. none of those instagram models who love my money. you’re my best friend, and i want us to be together.”

squeezing your eyes shut, you pinched the inside of your palm to see if you were dreaming. aurelien swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down before he said, “i love you.”

“you love me?”

“i’d me crazy not to.”

you giggled and aurelien compared it to sunshine in his mind. “so will you have me?”

nodding, you smiled at him and whispered, “i’d be crazy not to.”

#aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni #tchouameni #football imagines #football #football x reader #real madrid

71 notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 10 months

Note

Bestie, am taking revenge :D (not really)

Dropping here to make your fist request too! Let's do the same idea and see what happens :3

Bang Chan flirty rivals/crushes to lovers + dancing

Let's see how it works :]

Bring it on babes >:]

Level up: fencing for dummies. [Someone’s icy heart melted!]

CW: soulmate AU (past life kinda deal but it's a mess) mentions of anxiety (take care besties), swords (better wATCH OUT), swearing, there’s this dude who’s just a prick (so kinda annoying), angst if you blink too fast, I’d say its all but if y’all see smth I missed PLEASE MENTION IT<3

WC: 3.7K

side-note: so I came up with this ‘Lee Soomun’ guy and just in case, if he turns out to be someone who’s real, he’s totally unrelated to this content of fiction, as well as our dearest Channie and the fellow teletubbies StrayKids as a whole.

side note 2: flashback + dialogs included will be written like so :)

[☆☆⚔️☆☆]

Shit. That didn't feel good. What did this even mean?

You sighed, getting angry at yourself. Was it already? Would this be the time that, like your pent-up anxiety sometimes whispered, the day you would finally go down in history as the world’s biggest idiot?

Close, but not just yet. Let’s get back to when the disaster initiated.

You shook your head sideways, shoving unwanted thoughts about the person in front of you to someplace far away in your mind, wanting to fight without emotions taking the best of you. You put back on your fencing helmet.

Striking the straightest pose your back could handle, you faced your rival.

Christopher Bang. ‘Chan’ for his mates.

Fencing, top class. Majored in music, again, top class in most of the career’s subjects. At 23, he played more instruments than you could remember, and between his job (one that you hadn’t found out) and fencing, you’ve heard he still produces music on the side with some people.

Yeah. But you didn’t care much. Nope.

You disliked the man. Why? He was rich. Stick-stuck-up-in-his-ass level of rich. And he used it. Not like you could prove it, but you still believed that he, along with the other wealthy members of the old fencing club, were paying for victories to the referees in competitions.

No wonder they were all so nice to him.

You couldn’t complain about it, though. These people had basically sustained the entire club for years, and, surprise surprise, there was no way you could pay for the expenses the club required. The coach could think likewise, but when Chan was named, he would always pick his side and run away before you could even react.

To be honest, Chan wasn’t your favourite person.

You hated his cockiness, how he teased and invaded your personal space, wandering about and spitting whatever thought he could come up with. It was much easier to not pry on why he annoyed you, not wanting to know if he just bothered you because he could, meaning that making him stop would be thrice as tough.

Or worse, that he hated your guts. Unfair from your side, ok, but when you first met, you were stupidly hoping to acquire a solid friendship, someone you could count on to have your back, someone whose skills you admired. It felt like a scene straight out of a Hallmark movie. Banter and teasing lines were thrown, and you could’ve sworn he was flirting with you, but when you saw a pretty girl entering the locker rooms with him that day, your heart cracked a bit.

He made you remember that whatever could happen between you two, he could make it happen in a flash with anybody, anytime. He had all the money and skills anyone could wish for.

And he knew it.

“Scared I might pinch you, buttercup?” He said, his helmet resting on his head and striking more of a suggestive pose than a defensive stance.

“I’d suggest you watch out. I might just stick this sword up your refined ass, Mr Bang,” you snickered, not sounding as playful as he had, the nickname rolling off your tongue before you could rethink it.

Chuckling, he prepared his pose, sword ready for any attack or defence when he nodded to the referee, ready to start.

Seungmin signalled, and the combat started. Sounds of the material of the swords clicking reverberated in the old building, along with the others from the remaining fights other students were having.

You tried looking for weak spots, aiming here and there in hopes of finding something, when instead, he grinned, a Chesire-like smile on his features as the tip of his épée touched your ribs.

Fuck.

Before you could notice, you were already falling behind.

“13-12. Next round,” Seungmin stated, waiting for both of you to return to your positions.

You stood as calmly as you could in fourth position as he came to attack right after signalled, surprising enough for you to be too late.

Or so he thought, because for some reason, through the masks that protected your faces, he felt your stare burn right into him.

Moving turned to a less crucial problem because the criminal violence that was suddenly happening in his body made Chris extremely confused and awkwardly flustered. He could picture those so-called ‘butterflies’ people often talked about being destroyed by some flamethrowers.

That’s the intensity I’m talking about.

With him frozen, you stopped for a second, wondering if he could’ve stepped wrong or if something had happened. You wouldn’t play an unfair fight just for the sake of mere decency. You felt a deep sensation trailing up and down your body, which awakened you enough to counterattack.

“Match point,” the referee managed to add.

Seungmin was perplexed, to say less. He had been a referee on several duels between you two and separately and never had seen such a quick build-up of a mysterious tension that magically appeared out of the blue. It was no secret to you, one of his closest friends in the club, that he was 100% sure you’d end up befriending Chris, but this?

Damn, he was proud of his intuition. Something was happening, and he had first-row seats!

“Hey, you ok?” You murmured low enough for Seungmin to not notice, approaching Chan just for him to realize how close you were and blush right away.

“D-duh.” He mumbled. You frowned.

Seungmin gave Chan a look before starting the following round. You couldn’t miss how his attacks looked weaker, his defence opening in front of you like a walk-in closet, his overall control getting smaller and smaller.

“13-14.”

You were… actually? Scratch that. You couldn’t really word it, but an anxious feeling crept inside you.

You were winning. Against Mr Bang Chan.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? No teasing, no flirty comments? He couldn’t… no, he wouldn’t just let you win, right?

That would be an ugly ass move from his side.

But unbeknownst to you, his side dealt with plenty of other issues.

Sudden flashes of unlived memories with a certain someone popped into his head.

“Your hair is so soft…”

“Can I sit on your lap till you’re done…?”

“You’re so beautiful it's breathtaking.”

“What’s a place like this doing around a pretty boy like you?”

“Shh, you’re safe, my love. You’re strong, plus I’m with you, and I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not a delicate flower, c’monnn…! Kiss me like you mean it.”

“Uh?” His eyes almost watered, equally astonished as scared, because what were those memories? How could they be there?

“Did something happen?” You whispered, baffled as to why he had lost all the cockiness in his manner and tone, sounding defenceless, like a small child.

“N-no? I think I just…”

Chris froze. What was he going to say? ‘Hey, I know you sorta hate my guts, but I suddenly feel like you’re the love of my life…?”

Because that sounded perfect. He almost snickered. What the fuck was going on?

“Guys,” Seungmin interrupted with a warning tone.

He hated to be that guy, but flirting in front of the building owner and the coach wouldn’t look too great on the club’s side.

You and Chan stepped out of the tense bubble that formed around you. Quickly, you took off your protective gear and smiled warmly at the two persons.

Chris’ chest tightened, his heart skipped a beat.

Since when did he find you… so…?

“Cute.” He whispered, before realizing his surroundings and quickly taking off his helmet too.

“Good morning,” Coach greeted kindly, to which you both smiled. “I’m guessing both of you have already met Mrs Delaney.”

“Of course, Mike.” She smiled, small wrinkles appearing in her eyes. “Glad to see you fencing.”

You felt a stone on your stomach when you quickly noticed how she stared at Chris, much different to when she looked at you. You hated that.

Chan smiled awkwardly. The last thing he needed right now was someone who looked at him like a sexy, filled-to-the-brim bank account. Fuck that.

“Is there any reason as to why you’re here?” Seungmin questioned, curious.

Mrs Delaney smiled. “ I was speaking to Mike about organizing a fencing competition as fundraising. It’s getting trickier to maintain this building, plus it could attract more members to the club. And you two are the star athletes, so what do you think?”

You blinked, surprised that she had acknowledged your presence and valued it as much as your opinion. It was evident she was there for the money, but let’s be realistic. You would do something similar in her situation.

“I’m up for it. That sounds fun.” You simply stated, not wanting to annoy the woman with anything else so she wouldn’t stare at your soul meanly again.

Chan gave you a look, then shrugged. “Why not. But I think that the more the merrier, so why not put up an add?”

Mrs Delaney’s eyes sparkled. “Such an inteligent young man. I’ll make one right away.”

Coach and her eventually left, but you felt a shiver run up and down you back when her last words before exiting were “See you next week, good luck!”

“Not to throw anyone under the bus, but I’m not the one explaining that to the rest of the club,” Seungmin flew away.

“Good luck then, Mr Bang!” You laughed teasingly as you left with your friend.

[☆ ☆⚔️☆☆]

“You’re bluffing.”

“I’m telling you, either he stubbed his toe with thin air or his muscles were cut with an invisible thread,” he slurped his noodles, concentrating on his explanation.

Kim Seungmin wouldn’t need to go to military service because he sure served in every scenario in his life.

“Guys like Chan don’t just freeze during a fight, girl. I’m surprised you’re not all ‘panties in a bunch’ about it.”

You deadpanned. “Ok, gross. One more of those, and I’ll puke my fried chicken.”

“But actually, why, though? Do you owe me money?” He grinned.

“You owe me. I’m winning that bet cause there’s no way in hell that Chan and I can get along. But, just look at him.”

Seungmin turned around shamelessly, staring at the dining table Chan’s friend group had picked. He was laughing at some joke you hadn’t caught, allowing you to notice his dimples. Cute.

Another intense shiver gave you chills.

"If that's supposed to be a hate stare, I'm going to start thinking my landlord is in love with me," Kim laughed cruelly.

"What? Shut up! Your landlord is such a bitch, don't even try." You threw bread crumbs at him, giggling. "Besides, me, in love with him?" You couldn't hold back looking at him again, in some way that felt different than before, and perhaps it would be the first time of many because you liked what you saw. The man's beautiful brown eyes focused on you, his brown hair naturally curly for a change, a bit shorter, enough so that exposed the white and sensitive skin of his neck, and although from the angle where you were standing, you couldn't see him fully, you felt amazed.

Shutting down. Rebooting.

"I mean, look at the way he slurps up his soup. What an asshole."

[☆ ☆⚔️☆☆]

The competition had arrived before you could notice. Several members had signed in, and the crowd felt bigger than on its opening day. You sighed, nervous. The semi-finals were today, so of course, several curious people would pop their heads to see what all the noise was for. For even more spice to your mood, your opponent wasn't 'Mr Bang' yet, but someone who was even more unbearable than him.

Lee Soomun.

He had no discernible personality, but if you had to say anything about him, the only thing that made him stand out from the rest of the rich gang is that the stick up his ass would probably be the thickest.

You tightened your fist around your épée, the fencing sword, and stared at it blankly.

"Hey, you are up next," A guy named Felix mentioned, his voice as deep as anyone could imagine. "Go there and make him shut his stupid ass mouth for once."

You high-fived him. "You bet."

Getting out of the locker room, a silhouette suddenly appeared in your way.

You sighed. "Do you mind?"

He smiled sheepishly, showing his stupidly cute dimples. "Mind? In my mind? You, all day, all night."

You weren't sure if that made sense or not. You frowned. "Well, I fucking mind." You almost walked past him when he grabbed your arm in a gentle yet decisive move.

"Don't get your eyes off his grip, Yun."

You were frozen. The fact that your surname had been mentioned by him, who you doubted even cared enough to remember... only his cold tone made you wake up again. You scoffed, shrugging him off in hopes to regain your lost focus.

"I know how to fence, dummy, but thanks for the pro tip."

He stared at your back as you walked away.

"Oh, fresh meat,” your opponent greeted.

Lee Soomun.

You may dislike Chan, but this guy was even worse.

"How many points should I let you have so you get your hopes up?" His snicker could've made you sick. "Seven? Nine? Oh, maybe you've never reached so many points in one fight..." He gave you a condescending look that was so infuriating. "Let's agree on six, then."

Fuck. Breathe in, breathe out.

The referee settled on his place, and you both stood en guarde.

The fight started. You weren’t holding back, you were trying your best right from the start.

But it just wasn’t working.

You were on your second minute-long break, and if the score didn’t change in three minutes…

“10-6”

Then you were going to lose. Game over.

The referee called you back to your spots. You felt pressure on your shoulders, the grip in your épée felt weak, and the mask felt heavy.

“Yun!”

Your body stiffened. You looked towards the source of the sound, confused to see Chris, who was entering his last round for the day.

What? Chan couldn’t just forget that screaming in a fencing fight was considered really rude.

But his raspy voice that said your surname so differently from others had made you aware and catious of your surroundings, his words repeating in your head.

What could he have noticed that was important enough for him to say it?

You shook your head sideways, in hopes of getting out of your anxious state and slowing down your heart rate. The referee called you up again, and you faced your opponent again.

“I told you. No more than six. So be good, yeah?” His tone made you feel repulsively small. You hated it.

You stood en guarde when suddenly you felt a stare piercing into you. It made your entire body shiver, and the rush was so intense you couldn’t even think about the fight anymore.

You felt heat hit you in your face, and the sudden intense emotions made you too dizzy to react before Soomun’s sword was right in front of you.

And just when you thought you had almost seen it touch your chest-

Wait, what?

It… didn’t.

You moved suddenly, facing the scoreboard.

Why did it score?

“But I wasn’t touched,” you whispered.

He laughed, a rather menacing sound coming from him.

And in that moment, something clicked. That’s what Chris was trying to tell you before.

He had a rigged épée.

You see, with electric épée fencing, which was the chosen one for the competition, scoring is done in the following manner: the tip of the épée has a push button on it with wiring that, when combined with the wiring on the body cord and box of the opponent, would form a circuit, which would then signal that a hit has occurred. But what Soomun had probably done was to rig his épée so that he could close the circuit himself. But how…?

"Don't get your eyes off his grip, Yun."

Of course.

He probably had some pressure-related device hidden in the grip of his épée whenever he would appear as though he got close enough to an opponent to register a hit then it would count as a hit.

He was cheating.

“12-6.”

And he was fucking winning.

Anger stroke you through your veins. You couldn’t deal with is. You weren’t going to lose against some cheater, you didn’t care who was going under the bus because of him because it wouldn’t be you.

That was your motto during the fight, but then, weird memories started appearing in your head.

“Mmm... your hands are warm."

"You're such a tease..."

"I'm not flirting... or am I?"

"I really can't get you out of my head."

"Kiss me."

"If you stick your tongue at me again, you might as well be prepared to use it."

"Who did this to you?"

The confusion hit you hard, an impulse making you shiver in a sudden motion.

"12-7."

You had scrunched your eyes in hopes of understanding what was going on in your head. You opened them in a sudden motion.

You had fucking scored? Holy shit. Holy shit!

You smiled, feeling the anxiety's pressure lighten on your shoulders, a piercing stare that could have burned holes in your mask, not even having any sort of effect over it.

"You had one instruction."

You couldn't see his expression because of the mask on his face, but solely his voice made you tremble.

No. It wasn't anxiety now.

That thing you were feeling as soon as the next round started was pure fear.

And it was seconded when not only was he one point away from winning but, when in a dirty move, he made you stumble in your stance, faking another touch.

"15-7."

You felt a sharp pain in your chest, the bitter taste of knowing you had lost because the contrary cheated felt worse than ever. The match had ended.

Game over.

You both had to step out of the competition place together. He took his mask off and smiled gently.

"Does it hurt?" He asked in a mocking tone.

Asshole. He had gotten closer on purpose, which made you stumble in the first place.

"Not as much as how it must hurt your mother to feel your disgusting presence." You murmured, a sentence filled with poison.

He frowned, angry again. "I'll fucking kill you. I'll fucking kill you. I'll fucking murder your face, fuck you."

But suddenly, he took a quick glance behind you to just tsk and smile a cruel, dirty-rotten smile. "Have fun!"

Fuck him. Fuck him.

You walked back to the most hidden corner of the locker room. Everyone was outside, probably celebrating with whoever they believed would be the champion of tomorrow's finals.

Then, the door opened quietly. A silhouette with broad shoulders approached your sulky corner in small steps and silently sat close to you. You hugged your knees close to your chest, tearing up silently, feeling somewhat mocked.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked in the softest, most soothing tone you've heard in a while.

You turned to face him with red, watery eyes that made Chris' heart tighten in his chest.

Instead of doing what his heart was screaming, he had to ask again.

"Do you want me out?"

When there was no response, he sighed and stood, ready to let you cope however you wanted, respecting your decision.

But he hadn't walked even two steps to the door when he felt a hand on his forearm, your sobbing not silent anymore.

"You won't laugh, right?" You whispered in between your cries.

His presence had felt like a sun ray shining through a snowstorm. Just by standing close to you, his sweet tone of voice almost lulling you to sleep, he made everything suck less.

Fuck, since when were you both so screwed?

He held you close, in the warmest embrace you had felt in a long time, so much that it allowed you to break into pieces in his arms, knowing that just by his side, you would be able to reassemble.

"It's ok, you're safe now. I'm so proud of you." Chris didn't know what to say, his hand mechanically running calming strokes through your hair.

After you had calmed down, still in the same position, you mustered your courage to ask what had been on your mind for a while.

"Why did you tell me about his rigged sword? And why be here, with me crying in some old locker room?"

Chan sighed. "I know... we have never been close, but I still worry about you. Maybe I have that because I always have taken care of my sister, but I care about everyone that I love." He shrugged, and you blinked.

God, a fucking sister. Of course. You felt so stupid.

He continued. " I thought you would've done the same if it was me, and I would have wanted to know. No one deserves to be left alone, princess." He explained, the nickname rolling off his tongue before he could rethink it.

You snuggled closer to him in a silent motion. He smiled sheepishly as he kissed the top of your forehead.

He gently swiped away your tears.

"I suck."

"You certainly do not, princess. It's not bad to cry. It proves how strong you have been." He said, tracing soft shapes on the back of your hand until he raised it and kissed your palm. You left it there, cupping his cheek, poking his dimple when he smiled. You smiled too.

"Princess, I think...?"

You interrupted him and gave him a small peck on his lips. You laughed as he stared at you wide-eyed. You grabbed his hand and stood, but he just kept looking at you from below.

"Get up, silly."

He smiled, grateful that you had cheered up.

"Is this kidnapping?" He joked.

"No. Let me grab my stuff and get changed."

"I'm scared."

You giggled. "You should be. I'm taking us both on a date."

"Where?"

"At this time, I would just go to my roommate's dance studio... care to join?"

He smiled, kinda excited. "If you insist..."

~Kats, who is currently procrastinating five different projects, all due this week.

@iszaranothere because your absolute genius prompt list came right through a block like idek but tysm it made me laugh a lot T-T<3

P.D I KNOW THERE IS NO DANCING BUT YK LETS COUNT THE SWORD FIGHT AS A CHOREO + HC THAT THEY DANCED IN THE DATE LIKE IK IK BUT IT WAS TOO LONG ALREADY I STILL HOPE YOU LIKE IT THO

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #soft hours #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz soft thoughts #answered #first ask #chris bang #skz bang chan

77 notes · View notes

sharkpupsblog · 11 months

Text

😨 Lost Horse! 🐎 PART 7. Electric guitar.

A Sabine x GN! Reader fanfic!

Hi guys!!!! So so so good to be back omg!!!! 😭❤️❤️❤️ thank you everyone for your patience ❤️ during my break I kept writing to distract myself and I have the fic all ready to go and to be posted! 🙏🙏🙏 there are . More parts than I originally planned but it’s ok the more parts the better! :D also there is some guitar playing here and I am not a guitar expert (I can barely play my acoustic💔) so if anything is wrong I apologize 😭💔 once again ty all for the patience! :D enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You get guitar lessons from Sabine.

Warnings: foul language.

Your first meeting with Sabine and Khaan was a bit awkward. You and Sabine talked for a bit, but since you did not know each other well you quickly ran out of topics to talk about. After you ran out of things to talk about you both awkwardly stood in front of each other. Khaan and your Lipizzaner watched as you both tried to come up with something. Nothing came up so you both stood in awkward silence. You ran out of things to say because you feared your sense of humor or interests wouldn’t match hers. She ran out of things because she felt the same way you did.

She also did not want to spill too much about herself just in case you were a spy for your dad. The second meeting wasn’t as awkward. You found more things to talk about. You talked, and she listened. By the third meeting Sabine decided to start talking more. She realized that you could not be a spy. If you were then you would have given up by the second meeting since she wasn’t talking, or you would have gotten bored. But you were still around, and you were always so full of energy. It was clear you actually cared, and you weren’t there for anyone else. You listened to everything she said, so she trusted you.

Many hang outs came after that. Most of them were in the Everwind fields. Some were in coffee shops. She learned how you liked your coffee, and you learned how she liked hers. There were a lot of things you agreed on, but coffee was definitely not one of them. After weeks of hanging out and talking over the phone you became good friends. You trusted her with everything, and she trusted you with most of her stuff. She wished she could tell you as much as you told her but what she had was heavy. She did not want to ruin the mood.

You didn’t know much about her past or about what happened the day you found Khaan. You wished to know, but you kept quiet. You wanted her to tell you when she felt ready. The stuff she could tell you always amazed you. The thing that surprised you most was that she did dressage, and she ran her own club. When you asked to join as a joke, she said you were too lame to join her club. It brought up a conversation about what would make you cool enough to join.

Which brings you to the present. You’re sitting on your couch with a guitar on your lap. In front of you Sabine kneels. She takes the hand you have on the neck of the guitar, and she gently moves it down a bit. She positions your fingers to different strings. They are now in place to form a note. When she tells you to strum you do. The guitar produces a nice sound that makes you smile “was that good?” You look at Sabine. She nods smiling back at you “good enough to join your club?”

The girl laughs she shakes her head at you “maybe learn a few more notes first.” The guitar belongs to her. Another thing you learned about Sabine was that she loved music. Her favorite band was the Miscreants. The band was highly popular in Jorvik, so it did not surprise you that she was a fan of it. She said she got her own guitar when she was younger thanks to the Miscreants inspiring her. The girl never really used it though. The guitar sat in her closet for most of its life. Only being used at random times like this one. Note learning was a first for you and a refresher for Sabine who had not picked up the guitar in a while.

“Did it take you long to learn the notes?” You watched as she grabbed your hand again. She positioned it to another note. “It took me a while but-“ she moved your fingers around “it might be different for you.” She told you to strum, and while the note played, she continued talking “you could probably learn them quickly.” She hoped you were paying attention to the placement of the notes. She had already told you which ones they were. The girl was now just showing you how to play them. “Maybe you’ll be in the Miscreants instead of my club” she watched as you went back to the other note wanting to hear how it sounded again.

“I have a good teacher, so I think I’ll learn quick” you looked at her seeing a small smile on her face. You catch a hint of pride in it. “Don’t flatter me it won’t help you join quicker” she looked down at her phone for the next note. You let out a huff resting your arm and then your chin on top of it against the end of the guitar “it was worth a shot.” You glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room seeing 7:14. Your dad was out for a meeting he wouldn’t be back until 10. You had plenty of time left to learn the notes and hang out with Sabine. You had to sneak her in, so you would also have to sneak her out it would only give you until 9:30 to hang out. The rest of the time left would be used for sneaking her back out of Valedale.

When you moved to sit up your elbow hit the tuning knobs. The knobs turned, and the strings loosened. You frowned, and you strummed the guitar. You cringed at the horrible sound of the untuned strings. Sabine looked up from her phone when she heard the ugly sound “what did you do?” She held her hands out. You handed the guitar to her “I accidentally hit the little knobs at the end.” You felt bad, you knew it could be fixed, but you still felt really bad. You hoped tuning a guitar didn’t take long. You hoped it wasn’t hard to do.

Sabine checked each string until she found the ones you untuned. “I’ll fix it” she looked up at you giving you a smile. She was letting you know it was a simple mistake. She didn’t want you to feel bad. “We can use this as a lesson for tuning” the girl stood up from where she was kneeling, and she took a seat next to you on the couch. She began twisting a knob “your stupidity ended up being useful.” She had a playful tone it let you know she was not mad, or genuinely calling you stupid. You scooted closer to her to watch her tune the strings, and she let you. The girl explained to you how to tune the guitar. You were barely listening because your heart was beating loudly in your ear. It was also beating fast, it felt like it was going to pop out of your chest. Soon all the strings were back to normal, and you listened as Sabine played each one.

“Do you know any songs?” You looked up at her hoping she did. She looked up at you answering your question with “only one.” She never bothered to learn more. Her rock star phase faded pretty quick. So quick she only learned one song before her guitar was banished to the closet. Sabine felt nervous, you were making her nervous. You were seated so close to her. Usually she didn’t really care that you were close to her, but lately it affected her more than normal. Even touching your hands and guiding them on the strings made her nervous. It felt way too intimate.

She had a guess to why she felt the way she did before she knew why. She thought maybe it was because she wasn’t used to touch. After a few sleepless nights she figured out why she was so anxious around you. She wanted to tell you she really did, but she feared it would not be mutual. The feeling was very much mutual though. If only she could hear just how loud your heart was beating. If only she knew how she made you feel. “Can you play it?” You hoped she would play it for you. Sabine nodded, and she positioned her hand to the first note in the song. “I’m a bit rusty” she played the note it made you smile.

“If I mess up don’t laugh” she moved her hand to another note. You crossed your heart it made you feel like you were on the playground again making a promise to your childhood best friend. “I promise I won’t laugh” you stayed quiet as she played the song for you. Sabine said she was rusty, but she played well. Her hands moved fluently and carefully. You felt like you were at a concert. Front row seats to- wait a minute.

You continued listening, and that was when you realized the song she was playing was a love song. Holy shit? You felt your face burn she didn’t see your blush though she was too busy playing to see it. You quickly tried to clear it while she played. The song soon ended, and the girl looked up to you “what do you think?” She went wide eyed when she saw the blush on your face. You couldn’t get it to go away.

“Was it that bad?” The girl cringed. She watched as you tried to formulate a thought. There was no way she was playing that for you, was she? You opened your mouth, and you tried to joke with her “was that for me?” You were half joking. You prayed to Aideen that it was for you. Sabine narrowed her eyes, and she tilted her head to the side a bit “huh?” She was confused by what you were asking. When she understood the question her confused look was replaced by one of understanding.

The girl laughed, and you swore you felt you felt your heart break. “Nah” she was trying to play it cool. She was freaking out as much as you were. How could she forget it was a love song? She learned that song because the guitar in the song was great. She completely forgot that there was more to the song than just the guitar part. “I just learned it for the guitar” she messed with one of the strings. She cleared her throat trying to ease the tension in the room. You frowned giving her a slow nod “that’s nice.” You felt so fucking lame. You looked down at your shoelaces.

You were about to change the subject, but Sabine felt bold. She felt brave she said, “it can be.” She took this opportunity to confess. No more dancing around it. You looked up at her “what?” Even though she was feeling brave she spoke softly. She repeated what she said this time with a stronger tone “it can be.” She wanted you to know that she was serious. She also wanted to look cool and confident. Your face got a deeper shade of red. You stared at her in shock “For me?” You mentally facepalmed. You felt like you were going to pass out. You were so shocked you stopped breathing. Maybe your reply was stupid due to your lack of oxygen. Sabine groaned “is there anyone else here?”

TY FOR READING! :D I didn’t have a specific song in mind so any song u want can fit in this :D also so happy to be back 😭❤️

#ssoblr #sso #star stable online #sabinesso #sabinessofanfic #sabinessoxreader #ssofanfic #mentioned >#khaansso #sharkpupsblogwrites!‼️🗣#lookingforssomoots💔#this took so long to write . bcs i was playing totk #i got that totk brainrot

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thislovintime · 1 year

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A look at Peter Tork, multi-instrumentalist:

“[Peter’s] really a genius, a prolific musician — he plays about seven instruments.” - Micky Dolenz, Record Mirror, February 11, 1967

"A friend of the family, Tom Glazer, a folk singer, is the one who started it all for me. He gave me my ukulele. I had been taking piano lessons but when I got the uke, I found I could go plunk, plunk, and it was a sound I really dug. My mother wanted me to keep studying the piano, but I couldn’t make that plunk-plunk sound on it even after practicing. Knowing the piano helped a lot, though. I played other instruments too, like the French horn. I played that as a senior in high school in Connecticut and in a university band." - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967

"[As a performer in the early to mid-'60s, Peter] was utterly solo. And he was, he was fantastic. He was so good. It was wonderful." - James Lee Stanley, Tales of the Road Warriors, March 2019 (x)

Q: “Is it true that Micky Dolenz didn’t want to play the drums? He had never touched a drumstick before in his life?” Peter Tork: “I don’t know about that, and, and it certainly isn’t true that he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how to. I taught him his first drum lick. (imitates lick) You know, like that. ‘Okay, Micky, you hit it here, and you let it up with your foot, you close your foot, and you hit it again.’ (laughs)” - GOLD 104.5, 1999

Q: “Your first instrument was piano. So, were you comfortable when asked to play bass?” Peter Tork: “Yes, piano came first at age nine, and I think by age 13 came guitar. In the early 1960s, what you did as a guitar player was play folk music. One of the ways you played it was to perform a thing called Travis Picking.  A guy named Merle Travis pretty much created that alternating thumb with syncopated finger picking on top, which meant you had to know the location of your bass notes. Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom bom, boom bom, boom bom, boom – that kind of thing you knew if you were playing guitar. As it happens, the bass guitar is the bottom four strings of an acoustic guitar dropped an octave. My fingers pretty much fell into place picking up a guitar, and it was essentially the easiest transition in the world for me. I hardly even noticed I was picking up a different instrument. So yeah, it’s always been pretty interesting and easy. I’ve always enjoyed playing bass.” Q: “You were actually the first Monkee to appear musically on the group’s self-titled debut album, released in October 1966. How did that happen?” PT: “There was a guitar section at that point – five guitar players. And I was like fourth out of the five guitars. I didn’t have a big contribution by any means. It was just actually Mike being nice to me. He was in charge of his songs. There were four tracks produced by Michael on the first two albums, and I played guitar on three – ‘Papa Gene’s Blues,’ ‘Sweet Young Thing,’ and ‘Mary, Mary.’” - Pop Culture Examiner, November 1, 2011

Q: “Peter, you play various instruments. Do you prefer to play keyboards to banjo?” PT: “Depends. I think that primarily, the thing about the banjo is that it plays one kind of music only. The piano is of course much more widely — if I had, if I could have a keyboard but no banjo or the other way around, I would of course keep the keyboard, just because you can play rock and roll and folk and melodies and improvise. It’s the instrument I’m most familiar with, it’s the one I trained on, and harmonically, it’s the one that falls most readily under my hands. And I think that would be, that would be it. The banjo is of course wonderful in its own way and you can do things on the banjo that no other instrument is capable of. I’d like to, I’d like to go on having what I’ve got, which is essentially both and then some, of course, guitar and French horn and harmonica and bass and all the others that I play on or play at. But for one instrument only, of course the keyboards.” - Headquarters radio, September 1989 (x)

"You know who was good? Peter Tork was an amazing multi-instrumentalist. I had no idea!" - Roger Bechirian (producer, Pool It!), Tape Op, July/August 2012 (x)

"I guess I’m still just a young hippie-folkie-rocker at heart, learning to play the blues.” - Peter Tork, Los Angeles Times, June 22, 2013 (x)

"I enjoy playing Johann Sebastian Bach [on piano] for a hobby, just to take my mind into different places." - Peter Tork, Medium, August 2017

And, to select some video footage to accompany this post, here's Peter... in 33 ⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee; live in Chicago in August 1988; live in 1997; Peter and Shoe Suede Blues (and early show); and playing the organ at Detroit's Fox Theatre.

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vanishingreyes · 9 months

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TIMING: Today, in the evening LOCATION: Downtown, Conor’s window PARTIES: Conor and Xóchitl SUMMARY: Music reaches Xó’s ears and she approaches Conor’s window, eager to know who might be producing all that sound. CONTENT WARNINGS: parental death mention

It had been a while since he’d started a new piece. He’d been playing with an ensemble before he got here, and they would practice twice a week all together. He missed that, but he hadn’t really had the time to search for something like that. The shop had kept him busy, and all those new things he learned about himself, all those fae he had met, they’d made his anxiety spike. This was meant to help with that. He always felt better after playing.

Adding notes with his pencil and his felt pens, the faun was finishing his first read of the first pages of Sibelius’ violin concerto. Usually, his cat ran out whenever he picked up his violin, and today would not be any different. Deciphering a score was not the most pleasant part, surely, but it still managed to fill his heart with joy, even as he noticed which part would be tricky for him. It wasn’t Paganini, thank God, but those damn trills were going to be a damn nightmare.

He could lose track of time when he played, but he tried not to inconvenience his neighbors too much. He’d just arrived in the neighborhood, after all, and he doubted they’d approve of him for long if he played past 9pm.

The near-summer evening air was cooler than the day, though still warm enough. Which was ultimately for the best, because Xóchitl did prefer the heat - at least if given the choice between that and the cold cold. So a walk was nice, made doubly so by the fact that she’d gotten to leave work early - there’d been no clients after 3pm, and she’d taken advantage of that to go and do some reading at the library. Another small test to see how easily she’d be able to access the archives, the past news clippings, no matter how much she didn’t entirely like the idea of dealing with that.

How much she disliked the fact that Mackenzie’s death hadn’t been a front-page story. Except that, if she were entirely honest with herself, having something like that be complete front page news was likely some great level of entirely inappropriate.

She glanced around her, the streetlights bringing her out of her thoughts, as was the sound of a violin playing. “Well, I know I’m not in some fancy-ass European city,” she muttered, more to herself than anybody else, “so what’s…” Xóchitl looked up, trying to discern the source of the noise.

“Nice music!” She called, hoping whoever was playing the music would hear.

It didn’t take much more than two words for the faun’s cheeks to turn pink. A great part of him was tempted to remain away from the open window, another, small part felt bad to leave a stranger alone in the street with her words and, surely, a whole lot of embarrassment at being ignored like that. With a sigh, he dropped his instrument from his shoulder into his left hand and headed toward the opening to look down to the pavement.

There was a young woman looking around, up at the house facades, trying to point out precisely where the sound came from. It struck him as odd. Conor always had good ears, and never had this problem. Maybe she had bad ears. “Hi,” he gave her a small gesture of his hand, something meant to accompany his words. “Tha-” He stopped in his tracks and offered a sheepish smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but huh, it’s really not…”

“I mean, I’m not a musician,” Xóchitl called back up, finally having found the source of the music, “so I’m not an expert, but I think you sounded good, and my moms used to take me to the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Boston Pops, so I like to think I’ve got a decent ear for that, and besides, I like it, so that’s all that should matter, right?” She raised an eyebrow up at him.

“But also, if you don’t consider that nice, what do you like, as far as music goes?” She’d stopped fully now, feet planted on the ground, looking up at his window. “I’m Xóchitl, by the way, just so you know the name of the woman who’s decided to talk to you in the middle of the night.” She made a small face, “I play piano, by the way. So maybe I know something about music.”

“You’re from Boston?” He hadn’t been in Boston in years. His whole family lived there and that was precisely why he couldn't go back. His accent still remained, after all this time, in the way he dropped his Rs or rounded his Os.

His cheeks turned red and while she commented on his music taste, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "It's not that I don't like what I'm playing, but I'm just reading the notes right now. It has no heart right now…" he paused . "Give it a few weeks," with a small smile, he set his violin in his lap, sitting against the window sill. "I'm Conor, I work downstairs," he explained. She told him she played the piano. He frowned. "I thought you said you weren’t a musician.” Shifting lightly, he glanced down at her : "how long have you played?"

“Lived from when I was eight, but no, I’m from here.” Xóchitl made a small face, again, before shaking her head. “I mean not literally here, I grew up on World’s End Isle. Which doesn’t have a lot of kids. Or didn’t. I don’t know what it’s like now.” Mackenzie had visited all the time. Even if the house was up for sale, Xóchitlwas pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to live there again. It was bad enough being in the town, going back to her childhood home that probably had “Mac and Xó, BFFS 4EVER” carved into her closet door would’ve been entirely impossible.

“Are you inviting me back in a few weeks, then?” Her lips curved up into a smirk. “I’d be honored.” Xóchitl gave him a small wave as he sat at his window sill. “Flower shop? I’ve been meaning to stop by, so now I’ve got enough more of a reason to.” At his question, she paused. “Twenty-one years, I think? I started when I was eight. How about you?”

“Ah, well I got here a couple of months ago. You must know Boston better than I know the area,” the faun assured her, leaning his back against the window’s frame to get more comfortably seated. “I have only been there for wedding venues. I didn’t take much of a look around,” he didn’t have much time for that. “People don’t like having kids at weddings nowadays. It’s a bit sad.” Sure enough, they were loud, and they kept moving around, but he remembered he liked weddings back when he was a little kid. Maybe he didn’t though, and he just liked spending the whole day with his mother instead of waiting for her to come back home from work.

“You want to come back in a few weeks?” Conor looked down at her, and catching her smile, felt his cheeks warm up a little. Was she making fun of him and questioning his word or did she really want to listen to the progress? "Huh, sure. If you want," he glanced down at the front of his store then back at her, or rather at a spot on the window sill. "Oh I started when I was 6 years old," with a half shrug, he glanced up. It wasn't precisely a lie, and it beat telling her he'd practiced for around 60 years. "You know, I think that makes you a musician." He noted, unsure of what she might have meant by that.

“I might, yeah.” she kept her gaze focused up toward him. “But I’m not a tour guide by any means.” Xóchitl nodded, “That’s true. My moms had me at their wedding, but to be fair, they couldn’t legally get married until just about a year after we moved.” That was too much personal information, and Xóchitl involuntarily winced - backpedaling a few steps. “It is sad, I mean, I get it sometimes, but never wanting kids anywhere seems a bit weird.” She and Mackenzie had gone with Mackenzie’s mom more than a few times to help cater events - she was a baker or a cook or something that Xóchitl couldn’t quite remember just this moment, but she did remember eating frosting out of a bowl next to her friend, feet hitting the doors underneath the countertop.

“I’d like to.” She offered him another smile. “We can communicate from the window again, I’m not inviting myself in, unless you’d like that.” Xóchitl sighed. “Two years before I did, then. He looked to be roughly her age, maybe slightly older - though she’d never been too good at guessing ages. “Well, then I’ll accept it, even though that won’t make me change my actual job, it’s nice of you to call me that.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want a tour,” Conor preferred exploring the area at his own rate, without rushing through town. On his first day in town, he had gone for a walk in his neighborhood, and ended up enjoying a stroll by the sea front. It was a nice town, if you could forget about that weird smell that enveloped it now for months. His garden provided for a nice change of air, but even his flowers weren’t enough to completely fade off the scent of rotten eggs and charcoal.

“Oh you have two moms?” He fell silent, as if digesting the information. “I have one. I have no dad though,” he was happy to keep it at that. Conor had just gotten used to write parent as a singular word, that was all. His father wasn’t worth thinking about. Conor felt he’d have felt even better had he not existed at all.

“That’s no way to listen to music,” he protested. He wouldn’t invite people over, he couldn’t bring himself to, but he wouldn’t allow for this either. “We could meet elsewhere?” The town was large enough, and offered enough options when it came to meetings with strangers. “I suppose. We look about the same age,” he gave her a small nod. “I don’t think you need to make it your job to call yourself a musician,” was it how that worked? You could play music for decades and still not be considered a musician?

I wasn’t offering one. Xóchitl nearly said, but Conor was being nice, so she held back. “Yeah, that makes sense, and I mean I know some ways around town, but not having lived here in about two decades makes me not the best choice.

“I do.” She nodded at his comment. “Well, my moms have always been married, so I also don’t have a dad. I - I’m sorry you don’t, though, if that was something you wanted.” Having two moms had always been the best for her - though she didn’t know of any other way, of course - but Xóchitl liked to think that even if she had the chance to have had a dad, nothing could ever have topped having the two best moms in the world.

“Sure, we could meet elsewhere. Whatever works for you, though I suppose if you want me to play, we’d have to go somewhere where there’s a piano. My house is always an option, but that might be too soon.” Xóchitl fought off a smirk. “That’s fair. Also maybe it’s just personal preference? I don’t know. If you want to consider yourself one, then I say you are.”

“That makes you a terrible choice,” Conor agreed. He wasn’t sure how much the town had moved in over 20 years, but it was safe to say that she didn’t remember much of it either way. How much did he really remember of Boston outside of the block around his mom’s apartment, aside from the way to school, or the park?

He gave her a shrug. He didn’t like talking about that. “I’m glad you had a happy family,” not that his family had been unhappy, but they weren’t the sort you found in picture books. Every father’s day, Conor was one of those rare kids who came back home with a present he couldn’t give to the right person. His grandfather collected them dearly. He wondered if things would have been different for him, with a father. He wondered what would have happened if his father had stuck around. His expression darkened the more he thought about it. He tried to shake it off before she would notice.

“Huh, yeah. I am pretty sure you’re not supposed to invite strangers over to your house,” even if he knew her name, he didn’t know her, aside from the piano playing or the two moms thing. “I play music, and so do you. We’re musicians,” the faun rose to his hooves, turning around to come lean his elbows on the edge of the window instead. “Don’t you have one of those portable keyboards?”

“It does, I’d agree.” Which at least meant that there was little-to-no chance he’d ask for her view of the town. Which was something she was more than happy to have anybody not ask her about. Even if Xóchitl couldn’t pretend that she’d never lived in town (hell, there were still diner workers and librarians who’d known her twenty-one years ago), she could pretend like she didn’t still have a good portion of the town’s layout memorized. If only because maybe, somehow, that would help with figuring out what happened to Mackenzie.

“I’ve never taken that for granted.” She knew not to. Xóchitl also knew that her moms wouldn’t have faulted her for anything, but that was just another reason to love them. The fact that they truly did love her unconditionally. She’d elected to make cards and gifts for both of her mothers whenever the class did father’s day things – of course, she celebrated mothers’ day with both of them, but more gifts for them were never bad, and she’d taken to glaring at any teacher who questioned what she was doing. Thankfully, very few ever had.

“Seems like one of the first rules regarding stranger danger, huh?” Xóchitl offered another shrug. “Okay, so not that. We do both play music. We are musicians.” She offered him a bright smile as he came to the window. “I can see you better now, so that’s nice. But - yes.” Or she could buy one, because she preferred her non-portable piano. “Sorry, very good point, yes, I can bring it just about anywhere.”

“You shouldn’t take them for granted,” he paused. “They’ll be dead soon.” She looked about his age and he seemed to have forgotten, for a moment, that this was only true for him. Conor was nearing his seventieth year. Of course his mother was close to passing away.

He returned to Xóchitl her smile, as though he never said something so grim. “That would be lovely, I look forward to it.” It would be nice, playing with someone again.

“If you like it enough, we could ask around if others would be interested in playing with us,” he took a look down the street. “But I’m getting ahead of myself,” and a red tint colored his cheeks once again. “We can go buy music sheets across the street. The shop owner, Leti, she probably has them,” he paused. “Any piece you’d like to do in particular?”

“I - yeah.” Reminders of death never sat well with Xóchitl. Because Mackenzie hadn’t been supposed to die when she did, they weren’t even double digits in age, and everything had gone wrong, then. “That’s true, I guess. Except they aren’t that old. They’re not even sixty, yet.” But he probably hadn’t meant that in a rude way. Maybe he was just far more matter-of-fact than other people were. “I look forward to it too.”

Xóchitl nodded, “that could be good, we can see about it.” She nodded again, “Leti? I know her, actually. She’s wonderful, and she’d have excellent taste in music, so I can tell that you’re smart, and you’ll do well with this sort of thing. Logical. If that makes any sort of sense. But I’d be up for anything - whatever strikes your fancy.”

Sixty. About his brother’s age. He didn’t want him to go so soon, but Conor knew he had no control over it, and that all he could do was cherish whatever time he had left with his loved one, even if he could never see them again.

“You can tell that I’m smart?” Because he knew the woman across the street sold music sheets? “I’m really not that smart,” he shook his head, although didn’t care much to do more to dismiss her words of kindness. “Anyway, I’ll pick a sonata tomorrow. We can meet sometime this week to read it and start practicing right away,” he didn’t take her hesitancy to choose something as anything else but that. It didn’t occur to him that perhaps she was avoidant to get herself out of the interaction. He knew people lied all the time, and yet it never occurred to him that they did.

“I mean, I’m not an expert on qualifying what is smart, but yes. Besides, aren’t you trying to make a good impression on me? It’s perfectly fine to say that you are, even if it’s a bit of a lie.” Xóchitl shrugged. “Well, you seem at least passably smart, then. You are a nice conversation partner, and I’ve enjoyed this.” She nodded, though she didn’t know if he could see that. “Sonata is perfect, and should I give you my number, or would you prefer to be called upon on the street again?” She’d only not chosen a piece because of her curiosity about what he’d pick. Nothing more - other than the fact that she was tired and didn’t want to try and think of one at the moment.

“I’m sure we’ll be experts in no time.” Xóchitl let her lips curve into a smile that was nothing but kind; a gentle sort; because the idea of playing music not all by herself was a very good sort of idea.

It’s fine to lie? His eyebrows curled. No. That was not fine. Lying was not fine. “Passably smart, alright, I’ll accept that,” shifting to rest his hip against the sill, he looked down at her, pointing toward the store front beneath him. “Just knock on my door, alright. No need to complicate very simple things, is there?”

He gave her a shrug as his only answer. He wasn’t sure experts would be the term. He had played for over 60 years, he was beyond that. If she had been playing for 20 years, he was sure she would be fine too, had she been serious about it. “See you then,” Conor gave the girl a nod and a small wave. He’d never been great with social cues, and it was no wonder he bumped his head against the window’s edge as he stood back up and disappeared beyond the curtain. “I’m fine,” he called out. Stupid.

#c conor #chatzy #writing #wickedswriting #music to the ears #parental death tw #(mention)#// amélie is perfect and i love her and i love conor and this was v v v soft and <3 #also amélie made the banner and they both look so Hot i'm ---

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 2 years

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Hey! Sorry I know you're really busy, so you don't have to respond it's fine. I hope your day's going alright! :3

I was just wondering if you had any fanfics that feature Charlie and Sidney? Or could recommend any?

I believe I've read one from you before? I have no idea what it was called though, oops. But I remember it being really good! I think it featured bo-co?

Man, was I that shirty to that one anon? Sorry. You guys aren't bothering me. It was one specific person spamming my box. I love my asks!

I can't think of anyone but me who has written extensively about Charlie and Sidney. (Except... coincidentally... ToonGuy. He started coming up with a whole lil' background thing for them in 'Abridged', interspersed throughout S4-S5-TATMR. It is very different from my interpretation, ofc.) Unfortunately I'm not aware of anything else I could recommend.

Most likely you're thinking of my WIP Ex-Condor Through the Time Machine.

I have also posted a couple vignettes involving one or both of them on this blog. Here's one, two, three. There are also some things in that directory that include a young Sand as fireman, as he is due to appear in QLIR.

Speaking of 'things I am writing at the speed of molasses in winter'... I am willing to give up another little crew #2 vignette.

It's meant to be most of a chapter for a fic very similar to Ex-Condor (a 'not-quite-so-normal-day-in-the-life' multichapter thing, but from Edward's PoV and on the eve of nationalisation). Howeeeeeverrrrrr, given that my plan was to start posting and finishing it after finishing Ex-Condor... well, this otherwise isn't going to see the light of day any time soon so, if you're interested:

(Note: It uses material from the end of the Charlie Sand post, specifically about how Sid didn't know Charlie was married for like their first year or two working together. Also be warned it includes some Edward-angst. If that's a problem. Which I know damn well for most of you it isn't.)

November 1947

“Here.” There was a crinkly sound, as Sand produced some sort of folded paper from his breast pocket. “For Stationmaster. And see how our orders have changed. Write it all down and have him double-check—I don’t want any confusion.”

“I won’t, then. That’s your job. I’ll get the engine watered.”

“Uh, Sid…” The driver’s voice was deceptively mild. “I’ll give the orders, thanks, on my own footplate. Hop.”

“Yeh great coward! You can’t face Dream Girl, can you?”

“Who?”

“Pitiful.” The fireman would be pulling a face. He had some of the very funniest. “The fair Anita!”

“Anita?—Oh, she’s the one who handles tickets. That right?”

“Don’t play coy! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. C’mon, driver—” A bit of a tussle ensued, as Heaver began to fuss over straightening Sand’s collar, and brushing off some coal dust. “A year of this is enough! Run a hand through yer hair, set yer cap, and go over at a proper strut. She won’t wait forever!”

“Nor will I, for that matter! Get on with you.”

“I warn you,” said Heaver. Both men were starting to laugh, but he was the one further gone. He usually was. “If you send me, I may just snag her up, myself!”

“If you think I won’t shove you out this cab backwards, yeh whelp, you’d better have another think—”

After a moment’s more tussling, the fireman indeed scrambled, rather unsure of foot, off the running board. “You’d try the patience of a saint, Charles,” he griped… before then setting off at an unhurried but lively skip.

Nothing ever really shook Sid Heaver’s easy temper.

“Pot, kettle,” muttered the driver.

Edward was amused. “When are you going to tell him?”

Sand laughed. “Didn’t I leave that to you? I’m still waiting!”

“No, I can’t. I’ve told you. It’s too ridiculous.”

“How could this comedy of errors get any more ridiculous? But I hope so. I want to see the look on his face, when he learns.”

“Then you’d better tell him!”

“You’re far too nice to that idiot.”

Sand was good-natured about it, and only chuckled when Edward retorted: “Oh, you like him too, really! Anyway, it’s not that. It will be fun—but it oughtn’t be me. I don’t know, just seems a bit improper.”

The driver laughed harder than ever. “What! What’s improper? I’ve made an honest woman of her now, before God and everyone!”

“Oh, but all that sort of thing. Engines aren’t really supposed to comment on that—humans’ personal lives.”

“Ah yes, we wouldn’t want engines to mention the scandal of holy wedlock!” Sand pounded the outer cab with his fist as he dismounted. “You can’t really think so. Leave that Victorian rubbish in the last century, where it belongs!”

“Well, then.” Edward reddened, but conceded the point. It was a rule that didn’t really make much sense anymore to him, either. If it ever had. “In that case, I suppose I’m free to ask. Don’t people normally wear rings when they are married? I suppose the whole point is to avoid this sort of misunderstanding.”

“I think the point is mostly that women like shiny things, and jewellers like to make money. But Anita wants to work, until we have children, and they won’t keep her on if they know she’s married.”

“Wait. Whyever not?”

“Honestly, there’s no good answer to that. Women have to deal with all sorts of extra rubbish. Like this world isn’t hard enough!” The driver descended into muttered cursing, as he wrestled with the water pipe.

But soon it was connected, and Edward hissed comfortably as he drank, while he reflected vaguely of how little he knew, about women’s lives. They had been brought in to do all sorts of different railway work during both wars, and they hadn’t seemed all that different than the men—only inexperienced. It was rather strange, the way humans did these things…

Sand re-oiled all axles, disconnected the water hose, and then came round, leaning on the engine’s front buffers, and looking up at him significantly, much more serious than before.

“Will you answer me something honestly, Edward?”

The engine was a little surprised, especially upon realizing that Sand had sent the fireman in on purpose, so that they could talk.

But the answer came readily. Mr. Sand may have only been his driver a year now, but they had known each other for ages. “Of course, sir. What’s the matter?”

“That’s what I want to know. You get awfully nervous, even now, when you think Hacker’s about.”

“Oh.” Edward hissed steam again, this time in embarrassment. “I know you think it’s silly.”

“No,” said Sand, calmly and steadily. “I don’t, that. But it is unlike you. Makes me wonder just how badly he treated you.”

Edward wanted very much to not have to look at him. But Charlie, even as a teenager, had always been pretty canny, and it was probably no coincidence, that he had now positioned himself right where Edward should have normally looked to avoid anyone’s eye. And it was too rude, to look over a driver’s head while speaking to him.

At least, it had been considered rude was Edward had been young.

And, if that was another rule that had changed, he hadn’t noticed.

“I asked you to be honest,” Sand reminded him. “I wouldn’t do that, and then turn around and raise a big fuss. Not without your say-so. But I do believe I ought to know.”

“You never seemed to like him very much,” Edward began, slowly. This was a good deal more improper than talking about the crews’ matrimonial states.

“Imagine that.”

“Oh, you think he’s worse than he was. To be sure, I like you much better, but…” Edward sighed. Mr. Sand was right: he didn’t like to think about these things—and generally he succeeded in avoiding it. “I don’t think he treated me badly. I reckon he’s a pretty normal, ordinary sort of driver, and I’ve gotten rather used to being a bit coddled here, you know.”

“Coddled!” Sand spluttered in amazement. “Is that what he said?”

“I'm not sure that he ever used that exact word. But he certainly thought I required far too much fuss in order to do my work, and, well—well, I don’t think he’s altogether wrong.”

Sand kept a handle on his self-control, and stopped himself from a rant, only with visible effort. “And why do you think so?”

It was difficult to force himself to say, and, rude or not, he couldn’t look at Sand while he did so. “He often complained to the others that Mr. MacNeil had spoiled me. And it’s not only him that thought so, was it? Everyone used to say that. He and I were great friends, and had worked together for so long. I reckon it would have been hard for me to adjust to anyone else. I can’t blame Hacker for that…”

“Good Lord. I can!”

“Well, you’re a little like Mr. MacNeil was. You’re pretty partial to me.”

“If I remind you of MacNeil, I’ll take that as a compliment. He was one of the finest railwaymen I ever knew. He had twice my brains—and about fifty times Hacker’s. If he spent a good deal of extra time with you, it was for no other reason than he enjoyed it. He was married to the job, and would have been much lonelier without you—but he did not spoil you. I was there, Edward. I remember. You never needed much correcting, but he wasn’t one to hesitate, when you did. He had high standards.” Sand snorted. “Whereas Hacker has none. He’s simply lazy. Thinks he’d have an easy life of it, on a ‘proper’ railway, with new engines. I’d like to have met him on the the mainland! Those southern engines would have chewed him up and spat him out. And then, if there was anything left of him to sack, the S.R. would have done it, long ago!—But I’m not convincing you, am I.”

“No, driver, I suppose not.” But Edward smiled faintly. He liked what Sand had said about MacNeil… who had died only a few years ago. MacNeil, who had chosen him as his own engine, when no one else had wanted him. “You’re very kind, and I’m grateful. But… well, it doesn’t bother me often—there’s no use in thinking of it—but whenever I see Mr. Hacker I am reminded of what he used to say, and I still think he was dead on about some of it. Even when I was quite new… I wasn’t much use in my early years, you know.” He saw Sand gazing, listening hard. Sand hadn’t known this. Hardly anyone did, these days. “I was a poor steamer. Too sensitive. My first railway gave me plenty of chances, but it was no good. I always thought it was Sodor that made the difference. The Fat Controller was in charge of the workshop during the first war, and he made a good many changes to me. But after all that trouble taken over me, I gave more poor performances not long after—once again, after I lost my regular crew, who had been so encouraging, and better to me than I deserved. I just don’t seem to have much to give, when I’m unrostered. Then I met Mr. MacNeil, and did all right for ages, and I am again, now that you’re with me. No surprise there—you’re both terribly clever about your business. I reckon Hacker’s right. I do seem to need rather a lot of fuss. It’s not really his place to question any more than it is mine—Controller can do as he sees fit—but it is embarrassing, when I see him, and remember that I’m still not really any more useful than I ever was, back on the mainland. And never will be, now I’m so old and worn. I’ve only been very lucky, in having more than my fair share of excellent drivers. Are—are you all right?”

This last question was tacked on with real anxiety, for Sand had removed his cap, and was holding his head in his hands.

“I’ll be fine,” said Sand, after a moment. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s just that it’s a surprising lot of effort, stopping yourself from going off and committing murder…”

“Oh, Mr. Sand…”

“Shh. Let me get rid of his headache, would you?”

Leaning on his elbows, Sand rubbed his temples hard for a few minutes. It was only when they heard Heaver whistling as he returned that he pushed himself back up, and glanced up at the engine.

“I went on too long,” observed Edward, apologetic.

“You told me what I wanted to know. And I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

“Do you still have that headache?”

“No.” Sand smiled faintly. “We’re both more than ready to get to work, I’m sure. But I do wish you’d get it through your smokebox, my boy… if you are attracting loyal and clever crewmen again and again, it’s likely there’s something more than luck at play.”

Heaver overheard the last bit, and proved a helpful translator. “That’s right! Some of us know a good thing when we see it.”

“Like you?” retorted Sand. He had only begun to forgive Heaver’s work with Hacker.

“And some of us simple sort of blokes need it pointed out to us,” Heaver admitted easily. “Say, Charlie. Turns out that ticket girl is a bit of an ice queen. I’m sure if you checked, you’d see I have frostbite on my arse! Still no excuse for your cowardice all these months, but…”

Sand’s expression was indescribable.

Edward had to laugh, seeing it, and felt spurred to finally put an end to things. “Fireman—”

But the driver held up a hand. It seemed he’d been seized by a new resolve, as well. “Oh, no. Whatever happened to engines being seen and not heard? Don’t you dare—he’s mine now.”

Heaver blinked in confusion as driver and engine exchanged winks.

“You’re both cracked,” he concluded, amiably.

#chatter #ttte #ttte fic #the railway series #charlie sand #sidney heaver #their vibes in EtBE are just so immaculate 😭#oh yeah sorry #i keep trying to find a new name for That Asshole In Question #'kilchap' was meant as a placeholder but 'hacker' is probably not much better #jobeywrites

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sovengardeswag · 6 months

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Children of The Gods: Chapter One

Note: This is the first chapter of a novel adaptation of the myth of Perseus and Medusa with elements of Ovid’s Metamorphosis

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No one questioned it when Ceto and Phorcys, who had produced strange children such as Echidna, Stheno, and Euryale, produced a daughter like Medusa. She was a nymph of splendid beauty, with strong legs, eyes like honey, and most lovely of all, bronze ringlets of hair that came all the way down her back with nary a split nor flyaway. She was the envy of other nymphs. Each day, as she swam and played in the Aegean as many nymphs do, she attracted many admirers and suitors.

One day, yet another suitor approached her, a man just a little younger than she was. He approached her with a coral branch and asked her with all a gentleman’s tact, “Medusa, bronze-haired and strong-limbed daughter of the sea, please take this coral as a sign of my affection.”

Medusa, who had been standing in a tidepool and observing the creatures who dwelled in them at low tide, looked at the youth before her. He was handsome, that was for sure, despite being no older than 20, with fine but copious blond hair, a somewhat muscular build, and sun kissed skin. but it meant little to her when she was immune to such looks. In fact, she saw more beauty in the coral he carried than in any of her suitors. Its pink hue and elegant shape made her eyes widen. She took the trinket in her hand and felt its weight, the pricks of sharp, once living stone against her soft skin.

She told the youth, “It’s lovely, but I don’t even know your name, stranger. How am I supposed to accept the affections of someone who doesn’t even introduce himself?” She gave him an amused smile, her voice holding no venom.

The young man flushed and looked at his feet, telling her, “I-I, well, it’s Chrysaor, son of—"

Medusa raised a hand, bidding him to stop. “I don’t need to know where you came from, Chrysaor. I can tell that you don’t mean any harm . Come, I have an idea.” She stepped out of the tidepool, and he followed.

She told him, “I haven’t said yes to anyone else, but you seem nice, so I’ll give you a chance. We’ll make a game of it. If you can win a race from here to the olive tree in the city, I’ll let you court me. If I win, I get to keep the coral branch. Does that sound fair?”

Chrysaor nodded.

Medusa smiled and stashed the branch among the rocks. She got into position and waited for her hopeful suitor and opponent to join her. He had seemingly grown a bit of confidence, thinking his height would give him an advantage over the nymph. Medusa, keeping her promise to be fair, shouted, “One, two, three, GO!”

And then Medusa was off, speedy as an arrow. Her knee-length chiton ensured she wouldn’t trip over herself. Though the sand was full of shells, she barely felt them. She heard Chrysaor behind her, quickly catching up to her with his long strides. Medusa merely laughed and pushed herself harder, kicking up wet sand behind her.

They didn’t stay on the shore long, however, as their goal was the olive tree. Medusa turned and ran up the dunes. The sand was hot here, the shrubs dry and sad from the salt. The stillness a stark contrast to the amount of sand Medusa kicked up. When she looked back, she saw that Chrysaor was far behind, but did not falter, keeping up her pace and arriving in the city.

Medusa, despite being born and raised in its waters, had never been to Athens proper. As a nymph, she had no need to be in civilization and thrived in the wild. This is why it was hardly a surprise when she slowed down to observe the people milling about. People bought food from stalls and went in and out of great stone buildings, the women in chitons down to their ankles and the men with covered chests. It was only when her opponent started to come into sight Medusa sped up again, going as fast as her legs could carry her. Though she did not know the exact layout of Athens, she knew the general location of the tree from what others told her. Speed was thus the most important factor in her victory.

After her last sprint, her legs burning along with her lungs, Medusa finally found herself at the great olive tree. It was the city’s pride and joy, and she could understand why it was so. Athens was a young city, full of vigor and beauty, but young. Thus, so was the tree, yet it was both very tall and quite thick, its branches burdened with olives begging to be picked. Attendants watered it, pruned it, treated it like the precious thing, no, being it was. Medusa was so in awe that she barely noticed the salt spring bubbling and gurgling nearby, made by Poseidon, the lord of the seas in which she grew up. She even reached up to try and pluck a particularly fat, round olive, shiny and black, when an attendant grabbed her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”

Medusa, realizing her error, quickly snatched her hand back. “Forgive me. I simply saw such beautiful olives and wanted to try one.”

“Well, perhaps you should think before you reach,” the attendant said. She had gray eyes. “It isn’t right for you to pick any fruit you see off of just any tree. Especially not a tree from a goddess.”

“Right, Athena.” Medusa had heard all about what happened on that day, how when Poseidon had returned to his domain, he had declared it unfair. If one was to become a patron of a city, then shouldn’t their gift reflect the god, and not be some common tree? “It’s not much of a gift, then, is it, if it can’t be used by the city, and olive trees grow everywhere.”

“Why, of course we allow the tree to be used by the city. We use the olives to make the purest of olive oil for libations, the olives themselves for feeding the priests, the leaves for crowning heroes, and the wood from its daughters for boats and houses. On the other hand, what use does a saltwater spring have, wonderous though it may be?”

Medusa had no answer for that. She merely understood that mortals couldn’t drink salt water. She saw no way they could make use of it besides playing and perhaps cleansing one’s hands. She did, however, have a question. “May I try one?”

“You may, though you sea nymphs are truly sheltered if your intention was to eat a single raw olive.” The attendant walked away and came back with a brined olive instead. It was equally as large as the one Medusa wanted. The nymph popped it into her mouth, minding the seed as she chewed. It was salty but also savory with the slightest hint of bitterness.

“Thank you,” Medusa said. Just as she was about to take the pit out of her mouth, Medusa was slammed into, forcing her to spit it out instead. It was, of course, her suitor who had run into her.

“What is wrong with you?” she demanded to know as she turned around.

Chrysaor backed off, apologizing as he caught his breath. “I-I’m sorry, you— you just found a much shorter path somehow. I had to go as fast as I could.”

“Well, you should apologize to the attendant, then. You just made me spit at her feet!”

“What attendant?”

“The one in front of me, of course!” However, when Medusa turned around to give her apologies, she found that the attendant had seemingly vanished without a trace. After blinking twice and staring at the empty space for a moment, she turned around. and said to Chrysaor. “Well, either way, I’ve won, so it seems you owe me that coral branch.”

“It seems that I do,” said Chrysaor without a fight. “I’ll leave you alone from now on, don’t worry.”

“Well, I never said you had to do that,” Medusa said as he started to walk away.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said if you lost that you couldn’t be my lover, not that you couldn’t be my friend.”

Chrysaor perked up at that. “Alright, then, we can be friends.”

Thus, Medusa didn’t spend the day among the beasts of the ocean but in the world of men. She ate lamb instead of snapper, danced on stone instead of sand, and felt as though the sun were gentler.

At the end of the day, Chrysaor brought Medusa to the temple of Pallas Athena. She saw the priestesses there ensuring the statue was in good shape, delegating servants, and praying both for people who asked and for themselves.

“They look so happy,” Medusa said.

“I expect they would be. It’s an honor to work in our patroness’ house,” Chrysaor said.

“How do they become priestesses?”

“They tell their fathers they don’t want to get married yet, then they come here and train.”

“I see. And they take a vow of chastity?”

“Just as our lady did. They honor their vows for as long as they’re priestesses.”

“Interesting.”

When they were done in the temple, Medusa recovered her prize and waved her new friend goodbye before walking into the ocean, heading home. It was nearly dark, after all.

The wonderful thing about being an oceanid nymph was breathing underwater, Medusa thought. She did not do it nearly enough, but when she did, she saw all the colors of the sea creatures, the pinks and greens and violets. She could feel the currents against her legs.

When she resurfaced at her parents’ cave home, putting her now wet hair behind her ear, she placed her branch down and climbed up onto the shore.

“Good evening,” her mother, Ceto, greeted her, pulling her up onto their little island. “Where did you get this coral branch?” the primordial sea goddess asked.

“Oh, this.” Medusa looked at it as she squeezed the water out of her hair before picking it up. “I won it in a wager against a mortal. He ran against me in a footrace, and I won.”

“I see, and what was the wager if you lost?”

“He would be allowed to court me and nothing more.”

Ceto shook her head. “Medusa, you can’t toy with men like that. Such wagers can be dangerous, and it hurts the men who don’t mean you harm.”

“I didn’t hurt him, Mother. Besides, he’s my friend now. He even showed me the temple in the city while we were out today.” She walked into the cave properly, putting her prize up against the wall.

“Well, don’t wager like that again. Your heart and your honor are worth more than some trinket. At least accept your losses.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Phorcys looked up from his pool in the cave floor. Phorcys, unlike his wife, had no legs but a long eel’s tail. Thus, he was bound to water. In fact, their home had a pool for him within the cave, deep, so deep that it almost seemed endless and wide enough for him to not only stretch out, but perhaps do so twice, though he preferred to have his tail striking out. He heard what his wife and his daughter spoke of. “Speaking of suitors, Nerites came looking for you.”

Medusa made a face as she looked at her father, unable to hide her disgust. “Father, Nerites looks like a little boy. Please don’t tell me you arranged for him to meet with me.”

“Don’t be cruel, Medusa, he can’t help it,” Ceto scolded.

Phorcys ignored this outburst. “He only means to meet you properly. The boy means no harm.”

“It’s not just that he looks the way he does, though,” Medusa countered. “He’s arrogant and boastful.”

“And yet he’s also Lord Poseidon’s own charioteer. That alone would make him a fine match for you.” Phorcys pointed out.

Medusa looked between her parents, trying to think of a response. “Does he expect an answer right away?”

“I told him that you needed to make sure you had no other obligations.”

Medusa sighed. “Well, I was going to spend time with Stheno and Euryale on their island in two days, but other than that, I have none. But why did you answer for me, Father? You said I could choose my own suitor.”

“And in the time since I have allowed it, you have not let even a single suitor try to impress you.”

“Because none were suitable.”

“Are you saying the son of Nereus is unsuitable?”

“No, I’m saying that I don’t even know him.”

“That’s exactly what this meeting is for, Medusa. I am not arranging your wedding, I’m merely trying to help you. Will you at least give him a chance?”

Medusa looked to her mother and, finding no help, told her father, “I’ll give him a chance, then.”

The next day, Medusa set out, needing to distract herself from this business. She chose to go to Athens, her head above water and hair tied up as she swam, lest she paradoxically dry it out by wetting it two days in a row. When she stepped up onto the shore, she was unsure if she would meet him, but there he was, golden-haired Chrysaor.

Medusa went straight up to him. “Were you waiting for me?”

Chrysaor was startled, dropping his basket of oysters. “Medusa! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Why, of course I’m here. I meant it when I said we could be friends.”

“Oh, ah, well, I was just gathering oysters for the temple as an offering,” Chrysaor said, kneeling down to pick up his basket and oysters.

“Oh, you Athenians keep your priestesses well-fed, I see,” Medusa said.

“Why, of course. It’s the least I can do for them for all their service.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Are you sure? Won’t Poseidon be offended by you helping his rival?”

Medusa laughed. “Of course not. What a silly notion. Athena doesn’t take offense to sailors, so why would he take offense to gathering oysters? Besides, I’m seeing his charioteer, Nerites, in five days, so it would be an even trade if anything.”

“Oh, really? That seems like such an honor.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. He looks like a child and wants to court me.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh.’”

Chrysaor looked between his basket and Medusa. “Well, low tide won’t last forever. Let’s get to gathering.”

Medusa, ready for a distraction, set right to it. Her tied-up hair came in handy now, as it stayed out of her face. She found it easy to find what she needed—oysters, abalones, clams, all sorts of fine food for the priestesses to steam. But it was quiet work, leaving only the sound of scraping and lapping waves until Medusa broke the silence. “So, why do they call you Chrysaor? You don’t exactly seem like the kind of man to carry around a golden sword.”

“Oh, well, I was named for my hair, as it’s always been this color. And I was expected to become a warrior when I grew up. Thus, Chrysaor.”

“I see. And are you a warrior?”

Chrysaor laughed. “Not really. I’m a guard. I patrol when it’s my turn, and soon I’ll receive a station.”

“A guard! Then you’re a protector. With your dedication to it, I expect you’ll be put in the temple.”

“One can only hope.” He looked down at the basket and noted that it was full. “Let’s head in. We’ve done all we can here.”

“Allow me, then.” She took the basket from him and followed him to the temple.

Because they were on a mission, Medusa did not get to observe the people as closely as she did the day before, but she did get to see them go about their morning routines. Heading out for work, doing laundry, buying food in the market, heading to the temple…

Medusa wondered what their reasons must be for visiting the temple. Did they hope to improve their ability in the arts? Did they want some strategy in their life, or perhaps some plain old wisdom? Were they showing their gratitude?

When they arrived, Chrysaor announced their presence. “My ladies, the nymph Medusa and I have brought you an offering of shellfish.”

To such an introduction, Medusa held out the basket, which was taken by an attendant.

The head priestess came to greet them. “Thank you for this. Athena will be much obliged that you’ve done this for her.”

“Of course. It was the least we could do,” Medusa said.

The head priestess looked at Medusa properly then. “I must confess, I never expected an Oceanid nymph to grace our halls for the second time in a row. You’re Ceto and Phorcys’ daughter, are you not? One of the Hesperides?”

Medusa shook her head, “No, I’m not one of them. They’re older than I and maintain one of Hera’s gardens. I’m a triplet, born among the gorgons.”

“The gorgons! It must have been a difficult childhood then, not being able to look your own sisters in the eye.”

“Oh, no, it wasn’t anything so ghastly. I’m immune to their gaze.”

“I see. Well, you’re welcome in our temple at any time.”

“Thank you. I actually wanted to ask if one of the tree attendants was here today. She would be a woman of forty years, with gray eyes.”

The priestess shook her head, telling her, “There is no such attendant. We have attendants about that age, yes, but none with those eyes. I would remember someone with gray eyes.”

“I see. Thank you anyways.” With that, Medusa and her friend took their leave.

“She must have been Athena then, right?” Chrysaor asked once off the steps.

“What?”

“The attendant, I mean. She must have been. She was gray-eyed, she disappeared into thin air, and she supposedly doesn’t exist. Surely, she must have been.”

“I suppose you’re right. The gods will often disguise themselves. The Hesperides will often speak of their lady or of Zeus doing such things.”

“Speaking of which, I didn’t know you were a gorgon sister.”

“I try not to advertise that I am.”

“Do you not get along?”

“No, we get along. In fact, I’m going to go visit them tomorrow. It’s just that other people fear them because of their powers and the way they look. Few would be my friend if they knew I was born at the same time they were.”

“And do you have many friends?”

“Not particularly,” she confessed.

Chrysaor nodded, but as they walked idly, he had to ask, “Then why did you tell the priestess?”

Medusa had to think on that for a moment before coming to the conclusion. “Because I trust her and don’t want her to believe a lie about me.”

“That makes sense.” After a pause, he asked, “Do you want to go people-watching in the agora?”

“I’d like that, yes.”

And people-watch they did. It was different than watching sailors, Medusa thought. Though sailors were all different people, there were only so many things someone could do on a ship. To watch people in the city was quite the unique experience. Medusa nodded in the direction of a young couple, for example, telling her companion, “I think they’re having an affair.”

“No, it can’t be.”

“Of course, they are. Look at how she holds his hand as if it’s going to bite her. Look at how he glances around as if he’s looking for assassins.”

“No. If they were, they wouldn’t be holding hands, and they’d at least look at each other. I think they’re having the worst first meeting, no doubt arranged by an incompetent matchmaker.”

“Perhaps.” Medusa sighed. “I hope that my meeting with Nerites isn’t like that, then.”

“I’m sure it won’t be. But why would your parents even allow it? He doesn’t exactly sound like a catch.”

“Well, he is, and he isn’t. He looks far too young for me, but he’s still an adult. And as Poseidon’s charioteer, he commands respect and admiration. But he also demands attention and wants everyone to know how talented he is. I don’t want to deal with that.”

Chrysaor then suggested, no doubt out of a desire for her to stay safe, “Well, maybe you can move in with your sisters if you don’t like him, so he can leave you alone.”

“I could, but they live very far from others and don’t get many visitors.”

“I meant the Hesperides.”

“Oh! Well, I suppose I could. Honestly, that may even be safer. Surely he would respect a servant of the queen of the gods and not pester me.”

“Exactly.”

It was certainly an idea if things didn’t go well. She stood up from her seat. “Well, I should get going, I need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Would you like me to walk you down to the beach?”

“But of course.”

If you liked what you read and want to read chapter two early, you can support me here on ko-fi here

#sam writes #writers on tumblr #writers on kofi #greek mythology #myth #greek myth retellings #athena #the gorgons #Medusa

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aeoki · 8 months

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Seven Bridges - Love and Peace?: Chapter 10

Location: Yumenosaki Soundproof Lesson Room Characters: Ritsu, Mao & Hitsugi

TL Note:

In the original script, Arashi makes a pun (ナイツではない / naitsu de wa nai).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Another memory. Late May. Yumenosaki Academy, soundproof lesson room. >

Arashi: …The Seven Mysteries?

Hitsugi: Yes! I’m researching them! You could even say I enrolled into Yumenosaki because I wanted to learn about them!

Arashi: That’s a bit much… I have vaguely heard of them but was it something that important?

I remember Ritsu-chan’s older brother and his friends looking into it last year, but do you know anything about that, Ritsu-chan?

Ritsu: I think the ones who were digging into it were the twins from the Light Music Club – not me or my brother.

Me and Secchan did get involved once because we heard the sounds of a piano deep into the night…

But before that, who’s this?

Hitsugi: Oh! Hello and nice to meet you! I’m Hitsugi Kurone from the “producer course”!

I’ve been sent out to observe “Knights’” practice session today!

Ritsu: Ugh, the “producer course”, huh. Nacchan was talking to you in such a friendly manner so I thought you were one of our new members.

Hitsugi: I’m not “Knights”!

Arashi: Not[∗] “Knights”. Alliteration ♪

I’m actually not that close to, uhh, Hitsugi-chan?

I didn’t even know he was a part of the “producer course”. He was buried in the ground because of such and such and I helped him out.

Hitsugi: Yes! Thank you so much! You saved my life!

Ritsu: What? You were buried in the ground? The weird upperclassmen have mostly graduated and I thought there’d be a lot less weird behaviour now.

Thanks to that, people find it strange that I’m sleeping outside and it’s a huge pain in the neck when they call for a teacher.

If it was last year, they’d just think, “Oh yeah, that sorta guy exists”, ignore me and move on.

Arashi: Ehehe, it’s not so weird compared to someone sleeping in a coffin, playing in the fountain or flying in a hot air balloon, huh ♪

Ritsu: Indeed. It’s hard to live in this world if you’re not normal.

Hitsugi: I totally get that!

I haven’t been doing much in the “producer course” because I’m looking into the Seven Mysteries, so they think I’m a weirdo and get angry at me!

Arashi: Of course they would. You should actually do some work.

Hitsugi: You’re right! But they get angry at me even if I do my work! Especially the people from the “Peace Party” – They just tell me to go away…

Arashi: The “Peace Party”?

Hitsugi: There is a group of people with that name in the “producer course”! It’s a big force in the “producer course” that’s full of second-year students!

Their theme is all about “Love & Peace”! Shortened to the “Peace Party”! It’s mostly a derogatory term, though!

Ritsu: Sure sounds fishy… “Love & Peace”?

Hitsugi: Yup! Love and peace! I think the theme in itself is praiseworthy but–

???: “The ‘Peace Party’s’ love and peace are simply defined by their own idea of those concepts.”

Ritsu: ……Hm?

Hitsugi: Huh? What was I talking about again?

Oh right! I wasn’t doing my work so people were getting angry at me, huh!

Because of that, the “Peace Party” people would often say horrible things to me and…

Anzu-senpai couldn’t stand to watch that happen so she’s been standing up for me recently.

Arashi: Sounds like something Anzu-chan would do.

Hitsugi: Yes! She’s such a nice person – I love her to bits!

If anything, Anzu-senpai looks like she’s going through a much harder time than I am…

Ritsu: What do you mean?

Hitsugi: Uhh, I don’t know if you’re aware, but one of our lessons in the “producer course” consists of us producing one of the students in the “idol course”.

If we don’t do this “producer training” that’s held at a certain time every month, we can’t get credits.

Arashi: That sounds like what we have to do in the “idol course”. We have to participate or watch dreamfests on a regular basis or else we won’t get credits.

Ritsu: That’s been pretty lax ever since ES was created, though. Activities at Yumenosaki aren’t as high on the priority list anymore.

Arashi: Yeah. You can also earn credits by doing idol activities at ES, so you don’t even need to go to classes to get them.

Hitsugi: Ohh! I didn’t know that!

Ritsu: Yeah. You won’t be able to get a practical reward like “L$” within the school, but there might actually be people who are earning money by focusing on their idol activities at ES.

It’s either work the same amount and get credits or “L$” – In terms of whether you can actually get money as well, then, well, unless there’s a reason to take part in the school’s activities, then most people would choose the latter.

Naturally, that doesn’t mean the school’s dreamfests aren’t superior, either.

You can even hold dreamfests that are based on your interests – ones that aren’t fit for work or ones that you can’t get a profit from.

Arashi: Like “Konnyaku Fest”. What even is that? Looks like it’s been held fairly regularly for a while now.

Ritsu: Who knows…? It kinda sounds like something from the Seven Mysteries.

Hitsugi: How intriguing!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#seven bridges

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sharuruwrites · 2 years

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Careless Whisper Intensifies (pt.2)

Summary: A new ring to show off A maze to play hide and seek Lastly, a moment of Gojo's jealousy to give them answers they didn't know they need. A/n: Correct me if the French is wrong, because I just google translate it. Usually this chapter is uploaded the same hour as the one in AO3, but Tumblr is drunk to let me save the draft before I edit it.

Tag(s): Gojo being Gojo, Fluff turn up to the max, a dash of angst on the side (think of it as the sprinkles/powder on the cupcake made of Fluff), Jealousy, YEARNING?

Also, I would like to give special thanks to zark or xerox-candybar for beta-reading this chapter.

Word Count: 5.9k

Masterlist

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Disclaimer: I don't own Jujutsu Kaisen as it belong to Gege Akutami. Also. I don't own the gifs.

*Bold letters meaning they’re talking in English *manju - Japanese confectionery that's filled with red adzuki beans. *De t'avoir - 'to have you' in French

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In the afternoon of their 3rd day of their honeymoon, the couple chose to dine at some fancy French restaurant, De t’avoir, near their hotel after they strolled along the busy streets of the city’s shopping district.

Gojo had to pull some strings (like he always does) to secure a table without the need for reservations. Shion thanked him silently because her feet were starting to cramp. She’s not used to wearing high heels longer than an hour.

The host seated them near a window which afforded the best views of the city. Shion took note of the employee’s sudden enthusiasm, as if he had been expecting them.

Maybe they did have a reservation, but forgot about it?

The moment they were given a menu, Shion buried her nose in it, thinking which food sounded delicious based on the description. Meanwhile, Gojo didn’t spare a glance at his menu and kept looking back and forth at Shion and at his pocket.

Sensing her husband’s gaze on her, Shion put down the leather-bounded menu on the table.

“Something on your mind, Satoru?”

Her words caught Gojo by surprise as he hadn’t expected her to address him directly. He smiled sheepishly which aroused a small suspicion in Shion.

“I-It’s” Gojo stuttered before clearing his throat. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Shion looked at her husband in a skeptical manner. There shouldn’t be anything for him to be nervous about. They’re just in a nice restaurant with some nice classical music in the background.

If she’s not mistaken, the pianist was playing Nocturnes, Op.9: No.2. She constantly heard this piece whenever a fleeting yet romantic scene happened in the tv shows she watched. But there were also times this song was played to match the character’s melancholic mood.

Unless…

Shion couldn’t help but to observe her surroundings, taking note of every single detail. She needed to check to prove the sudden uneasiness in her stomach wasn’t just in her imagination.

Fancy Restaurant? Check Totally intimate atmosphere? Check Gojo’s unusual nervousness? Check

With these facts in mind, suddenly, Shion became more aware of her surroundings. She could feel her eyes going wide, her heart rate accelerating, and her body temperature rising.

There’s no way this idiot of hers on papers would do it here and right now! And in public?!

From Gojo’s pocket, he produced a small black velvet box and presented it to her. Inside of the box was a platinum ring. A simple yet intricate design with a small blue diamond cut gem nestled in the middle of the metallic band. Its color and shine reminded her greatly of her husband’s signature blue eyes.

"Will you marry me, darling?" Gojo asked.

Gasps and loud cheering erupted throughout the restaurant. Shion rubbed the nape of her neck, embarrassed.

Eventually, the spectators became silent, anticipating Shion’s answer. Meanwhile, the woman in question had an internal debate on what to do in this situation.

Scenario A: She would clear up the misunderstanding by telling everyone they’re already married to each other, luckily, and not other people. Although this was the truth, it would cause a very awkward situation.

Scenario B: Play along.

To save everyone the embarrassment, Shion had to choose the latter option. She and he would have a very nice discussion after lunch.

“Y-Yes!” Shion clasped her hands together. “I’ll marry you!”

“Did you really have to do that?!” Shion elbowed Gojo in his ribs.

“C’mon, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Gojo rubbed his left side, numbing the pain. “Thanks to my heartfelt proposal, we managed to get a free meal from the restaurant’s owner.”

“A meal that we can easily afford!”

“And?” Gojo pouted. “Where’s the fun in that ?”

No words of rebuttal were heard from Shion, making Gojo internally cheer at this small victory.

“Well, did you like the ring?” He asked.

Jewelry wasn't her thing. Yes, it’s beautiful, but after rejecting many similar gifts from that Naoya Zen’in annoying cockroach, it became a nuisance to her. She had to constantly worry about losing it. Then, she actually did lose her wedding ring only two months into their marriage.

Shion remembered the spurn she earned from her mother-in-law when the topic of the wedding ring came up. Apparently, that piece of jewelry was a family heirloom. Shion could see the latter’s gaze hardened with disdain. Every word she spewed from her mouth made her daughter-in-law feel she’d been dragged through mud.

At first, Shion tried to establish a good relationship with her husband’s family before they got married. Yet, it proved to be pointless when she found out that no matter how good her intentions were, they would still treat her as an outsider, and she couldn’t find in her heart to despise them.

She knew from firsthand experience: it’s tiring to keep on living with hate as the fuel, after all.

However, when Gojo confessed he had lost his wedding ring as well, she found a small sense of relief in his words–although it was accompanied by a chunk of guilt.

Shion studied the platinum ring around her finger. “How did you know my size?”

“Well…” Her husband took hold of her hand, winking at her. “I’ve held your hand enough times to tell.”

Gojo expected his wife to become a flustered mess, but she blinked and nodded. Aw, did he mess up the timing? Or was the mood not suitable? He swore what he said was a surefire way to get his desired results.

“One thing,” Shion pulled her hand away from his grasp. “Did you put some of your cursed energy in this ring?”

“Bingo!” Gojo gave her a thumbs up. “You can think of it as my personal G.P.S if I can’t contact you with my phone.”

Completely ignoring the last part, Shion eyed Gojo's ring finger. “Then where’s yours?”

“I lost mine on a mission,” Gojo raised his hand to show his ringless finger. “Remember?”

Gojo expected Shion to be nonchalant and move on to their next destination. Instead, his wife grabbed his hand and dragged him along down the road, searching for the nearest jewelry shop.

Eventually, they came across a small quaint shop, but the moment they stepped in, it felt like being inside a museum.

The inside was filled with beautiful pieces of jewelry ranging from antique to modern. They were all carefully arranged behind glass on tables that looked like they each cost more than an annual salary of a 1st Grade Sorcerer.

Not soon after, the shop owner and his employee greeted them. Shion responded as she looked around with her husband following next to her.

Meanwhile, Gojo watched his wife, unknowingly with a small grin on his face. As much as he appreciated the gesture, Shion didn’t have to get him a ring.

It’s just a ring. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s just a piece of jewelry to remind him that he’s married to an oblivious woman named Shion Ito.

Yet, she looked so cute right now. She’s so focused on such a mundane thing with her brows furrowed and her lips in a thin line. Every now and then, she would hum while browsing through the collection.

“As for the size…” Shion mumbled, turning to her husband with her hand reaching out to him. “Your hand, Satoru.”

Gojo grinned at her, and took hold of it. In his head, he pondered over what he should say to his wife to elicit a flustered reaction from her. He imagined that her expression became shy and soft, accompanied with a blush.

Last but not least, it wouldn’t be a flustered Shion if she didn’t taunt him back. Idiot, she would say while pouting.

But, the words forming in his head disappeared when Shion shifted her hold with her dainty fingers intertwined with his. Her soft skin made Gojo feel like it was burning him, and he hated the fact that a simple gesture like this would send his heart racing. He hated how quickly his cheeks were turning red and how much he wanted to pull her hand towards his lips.

It didn’t help that he had no clue what he was supposed to do now. How could he?! It’s fucking rare for his wife to be the one intiating things.

Was he supposed to say something cheeky? Insulting?

Meanwhile, Shion, oblivious to her husband’s internal conflict, let go of his hand and turned her attention towards the shop owner. Somehow, he and the other employee were fully invested in something in her direction. She took a quick glance behind her, but there was nothing special happening aside from a lone customer by the necklace section.

That customer looked familiar. Maybe the lighting was playing tricks on Shion, but she felt like she had seen them before. In that angle, didn’t they look the-

“Miss?” The owner called to her, causing Shion to pay attention to him.

“Can I have this ring?” Her finger tapped against a poster taped underneath the glass pane. “On this size please.”

“Sure, but you’ll have to come back tomorrow for it.” The old man adjusted his glasses, looking at Shion’s hand. “And as for the size, isn’t that too big for you, miss?”

Shion shook her head before she gestured at Gojo. “It’s for my husband.”

The woman raised her brow in curiosity when the owner let out a hearty chuckle. Did she say something funny? Shion turned to her side, and found Gojo scrolling through his phone. He seemed alright and everything, but the tips of his ears had turned a reddish hue.

“Are you okay?”

The reply she got from him was a simple ‘hm’, and it made Shion worried. Usually, he had a witty response to her concern. Was he perhaps feeling under the weather? If this continued, she would consider getting some cooling patches for him.

Racking her brain for answers, Shion missed the owner’s remark as he made his way to his workshop while the employee, his grandson, directed the couple to finalize their payment.

“Ohohoho,” the elderly man grinned. “To be young and in love.”

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On their fifth day of the honeymoon trip, the couple went to a sunflower farm, much to Shion’s surprise. Dread filled her when she found out that her husband wanted to visit the farm’s sunflower maze. She couldn’t say no to Gojo. Hopefully, this idiot wouldn’t make another proposal in front of more people.

A myriad of tall sunflowers surrounded the couple as they wandered through the maze. Shion admired the beautiful flowers as she contemplated if she should buy some, and then use the flowers to make bookmarks for the Fushiguro siblings.

Gojo would have enjoyed the scenery as well, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been crafting a plan in his head.

The true purpose of this trip to the farm was the maze itself. He knew how much his wife loathed mazes due to her sense of direction. Yet, he had a very good reason for this visit. She would get annoyed once she learned why, but a nice meal should immediately put him in her good graces.

His reason was to protect her from an assassination attempt.

Ever since their special lunch at De t'avoir, Gojo had a feeling that someone had been tailing them. And if he had to guess the target, it would most likely be his wife–those old sacks of bones really hated Shion.

He really wanted to know where the higher-ups got the audacity to put a hit on his wife when they’re on their honeymoon.

Now, how could he convince his wife to split ways without making him too suspicious? The assassin he sensed was in the eastern direction.

“Wanna see who comes out of the maze first?” Gojo suggested.

“No,” Shion crossed her arms. “I already know who the winner would be.”

“Do your best, and…” Gojo rubbed his chin before snapping his fingers. “I’ll buy you a couple boxes of *manjū you like from Hiroshima.”

As if he flipped a switch, Shion dashed towards the left path with a newfound determination to beat her husband. And here he thought that he had the biggest sweet tooth.

Without further ado, Gojo took the opposite path, and by the end of it, he stumbled upon a spacious area of the maze. This must be the ‘heart’ of the maze that the farm advertised in their brochure. In the middle of it, there was a big white wooden gazebo, and the entire area looked peaceful and serene. It was beautiful. If it weren’t for someone trying to kill them, he could have napped with Shion.

“Oi,” Gojo stopped in his tracks. “You better come out while I’m still feeling merciful.”

Minutes had passed and his threat was met with silence. Gojo turned around, and no one was there.

“This is fucking great.” He shook his head, displeased with the situation at hand.

However, the moment the wind blew the sunflowers eastward, Gojo pinned down his attacker, pressing his foot on the latter’s back and twisting the man’s arm behind him. One good look at the assassin’s face, and Gojo immediately recognized him as the fucking host from De t’avoir.

This was why he couldn’t have nice things in life.

“Looks like I caught a dirty rat.” Gojo dug his foot deeper directly at the man’s spine, resisting the urge to kill him on the spot. “Which baldy old fart sent you to kill my wife?”

Gojo furrowed his brows when the ‘assassin’ let out a dark chuckle.

“You…are wrong…Gojo Satoru,” The man coughed, struggling to breathe under the weight of Gojo’s foot. “You…are our target...not Shion Gojo... I was…sent..alone…in case…I have to fight the…deadliest Sorcerer.”

‘Our’ target ? That couldn’t be right. From the third day of their trip up until now, Gojo had only sensed one person’s cursed energy–cursed energy which he could now confirm was coming from the man underneath his foot.

Fuck!

This honeymoon trip had distracted him, and he had forgotten some simple-yet-crucial information: a trained sorcerer should be able to hide their cursed energy well enough to pass as a normal civilian.

After knocking out the assailant, Gojo rubbed the nape of his neck, considering his next course of action. Knowing his wife’s forgetfulness, he wouldn’t be able to contact her through her phone–if she even remembered to bring it at all.

Gojo could easily locate her through her cursed energy, but that would be a last resort.

He remembered the first time he sensed Shion’s cursed energy, faint yet dangerous, as if she had to restrain it. Probably for the good of everyone around her, but that didn’t stop his curiosity.

Yet, in the aftermath of Shion’s mission four years ago, her energy had changed so drastically that even he, Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer–couldn’t stand it. Her cursed energy reeked of death whenever she used it.

But fear not! For he had prepared to locate his missing wife with the ring he’d given her. He’s proud of the solution he came up with.

The ring he’d given to his wife wasn’t ordinary. It was his old wedding ring, from when they first got married.

Before his honeymoon, Gojo had the ring remade into a new piece, fitted correctly to his wife’s size. He was a bit worried that the jeweler wouldn’t complete the request on time, given how complex his order was, and because he rejected multiple drafts of the ring’s design. Although Gojo got the finished product the day before they left, he wouldn’t be surprised if the jeweler lost their sanity as a result.

Gojo did tell Shion that he had lost his ring, but that was a white lie to spare her anxiety and frustration. Back then, he’s aware how much he neglected her, but chose not to do anything about it until Shion broke down in tears as she held onto him.

Guilt gnawed at the back of his mind, but he forced himself to deal with the emotions that followed. The pain of remorse was his punishment for leaving his wife all alone, when she needed someone to lean on and hold.

He should know that the moment they exchanged their vows under the sunny spring, they both became the constant in each other’s lives.

Now that Gojo thought about it, he realized he had never apologized to Shion for his negligence. Alright, once he dealt with the assassin, he would find a perfect spot, set the mood, and say sorry.

However, when Gojo arrived at the location, he only saw a silver ring on the ground. His face scrunched at the metallic scent in the scene. Yet, there’s no Shion here.

Immediately, a hypothesis invaded his mind and sent him into near panic.

What if… an irregularity like Fushiguro Toji got to his wife?

Immediately, Gojo took off his shades, and his knees almost buckled at the immense pressure he felt from the northern direction of the maze. Yep, that’s her cursed energy alright. She’s the only person in his life who could make him kneel.

After Gojo shook his head, he closed his eyes, and focused on his cursed energy to teleport. When he opened them, a familiar figure came to his line of sight.

“Shion!”

Immediately, he threw himself towards her, trying to embrace her from behind.

But Gojo underestimated his momentum, and his wife’s capability to withstand it. He ended up crushing Shion underneath him.

Shion fell on the dirt face first, only to be buried further by the weight from her husband. For the first time in her life, she got a taste of dirt—sour and earthy. She hoped a full cup or two of mouthwash would help her erase the memory of it.

Hastily, Gojo got off from Shion and helped her get up from the ground as she started to spit on the ground. He scanned his wife from top to bottom, looking for any signs of injuries. Her white sundress was now stained with dirt and grass.

“Are you okay?” Gojo asked. “Did they hurt you?”

‘They’? Oh, so Gojo’s aware that they were being followed by a group of people with a killing intent. There’s really nothing that gets past this guy. And, here she thought she could handle this manner quickly and quietly.

Out of nowhere, Gojo cupped her left cheek, and Shion almost startled at his touch. She felt something wet against her cheek as her husband brushed it with his thumb.

Gojo’s expression hardened, and Shion lightly dabbed her fingers on the same cheek. Her eyes widened at the sight of her fingertips were stained with red.

“T-that’s not my blood!” Shion exclaimed. “It’s from the assassins!”

Once Shion saw her husband’s shoulders relax, she was able to breathe easily. Whenever she got hurt, Gojo became a stubborn and unreasonable man. If she didn’t try to stop him, he would have deviated from his plan a long time ago because he killed the higher-ups.

“Did they also steal your shoes?” Gojo joked as an attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“I improvised,” Shion shrugged. “Since I didn’t have a weapon, I had to disarm one of them with my shoe before I could stab them with their own knife. As a warning.”

Although Shion was free of injuries, Gojo couldn’t help but be frustrated. He tried to keep a straight face about it so as not to give his wife any more trouble. Unfortunately for him, Shion noticed his mood and frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Shion played with her fingers. “If I hadn’t married you, this wouldn’t have happened.”

What was she saying? Gojo didn’t even give her the choice to say no.

The day after Shion had received her death sentence was the day she found out that she’s betrothed to Gojo. She hadn’t fully processed the information until the next morning, when Tsukumo filled her in. Watanabe had accidentally injected Shion with so much sedative that she was not aware of the chaos that ensued from Gojo’s announcement.

At that time, she never had the intention to fight back, or to plead for her life. Instead, she accepted Death with open arms, never taking into consideration what would happen after.

Gojo sensed the immediate silence from Shion. Within three years of marriage, he could read her like an open book with the expressions and body language she made.

“This is the second time you’ve apologized for something that’s out of your control.” Gojo sighed. “Even if I don’t marry you, assassination attempts like this happen like once in a while, depending on which higher-up I piss off.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” Shion rubbed her arm. “You already have a lot on your plate to begin with. Anything that concerns me, my problems, or the consequences of my actions shouldn't be added to it.”

If it weren't for Gojo’s shades, Shion would see her husband’s eyes widen in surprise and amusement. With the exception of those who he considered close, it was rare for someone to be considerate towards him, let alone sincere–he had lost count of the many times someone pretended to be concerned for him in exchange for a favor. He had lived long enough to differentiate between who was being sincere and being a clown. It’s a skill he had to pick up as he grew older, because his life was already complicated to begin with.

“You know, I wish you would rely on me more often, Shion.” Gojo carefully took her hands into his with his gaze fixed on it. “I’m not omniscient–I don’t always know what your thoughts are or where you are in this world. And nothing eases my mind until I’m sure you’re safe and sound.”

He didn’t know if he was saying these words to alleviate Shion’s worries, or to voice his frustration at Shion’s lack of trust.

“That’s why, rely on me more often.” Gojo locked his gaze on Shion. “I don’t like to watch you suffer in silence, just because you think it’s the considerate thing to do.”

“Why?” Shion raised her brows.

“That’s a pretty obvious answer, Shion.” Gojo chuckled. “It’s because we’re husband and wife.”

Saying those words, it somehow felt right to Gojo.

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As much as the married couple wanted their vacation to last a little longer, their honeymoon ended in a week. They deserved at least two months of relaxation, but they should be grateful that they were given at least a little time off. Next time, Gojo wouldn’t hold back–he’d pull out the big guns and negotiate a few weeks of time off, if they chose to go on vacation again.

When they returned home, one would expect they would sleep throughout the whole night. Instead, Shion craved a late night snack, and she tried her best not to wake up Gojo. Unfortunately, she did and had no choice but to bring him along. She wouldn’t want to wake the kids from their bedtime with Gojo’s protests.

After a quick trip to the convenience store, Gojo and Shion chose to linger at the terrace behind their house. The cool breeze tickled against their skin, and watched the stars glimmering above them. The wind chimes serenaded them with a gentle song as they savored their beverages.

Yet, Shion chose to break the silence with an observation of her own.

“Oh, it’s Polaris,” Shion said.

“You can find the North Star that easily?” Gojo questioned.

“It’s not that hard to look for,” Shion pointed at the cluster of stars in the night sky. “See, if you connect those stars, it’ll look like kitchen pots with long crooked handles, but one of them is smaller and the other is bigger. Polaris is in the smaller one, at the end of the handle.”

“And what are the names of those kitchen pots?” Gojo asked amusingly.

“Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor,“ Shion answered.

Shion watched her husband squinted at the scenery before them before his face lit up in realization.

“Oh, you’re right! When you put it that way, I can see them,” Gojo commented, enjoying his discovery. “Despite your funny description, they’re still pretty to look at!”

“Yeah, they’re truly beautiful to see.” Shion said.

Gojo shifted his gaze on the sky towards Shion, only for him to see her giving one of her rare smiles with a soft expression. A smile that he loved and hated at the same time.

"Thinking about me?" Gojo asked, deflecting the fact that his heart skipped a beat from Shion’s compliment.

"When have you ever assumed that I was not thinking of you?“

“But, you didn’t deny it.” Gojo retorted.

A small chuckle came from Shion’s lips, accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

She had been thinking about what her marriage was like when it first started versus now. She couldn’t imagine her having nightly talks with a man who treated her like a stain. Someone who he had to tolerate until he chose to separate ways, not caring about her thoughts in the manner.

Within a span of three years, she understood a man named Gojo Satoru and his way of life. Not as the strongest sorcerer who held two strong techniques, or the head of one of the influential sorcery families, but instead, she learned about the lonely individual underneath that annoying facade. Something that he wouldn’t admit outright. Shion wouldn’t pretend that she knew what kind of solitude that her husband faced. But, the idea of being averse to sharing problems was something she was familiar with.

Gojo wanted her to rely on him more often, but how could she? When he himself wouldn't share his loneliness with her because he felt so unreachable? She understood his position, but it didn’t mean that he had to shoulder all of that burden.

Now that she thinked about it, Gojo was similar to Polaris.

Alone, out of everyone’s reach, but still shining so brilliantly in the middle of the coldest, darkest and most unforgiving nights, a beacon for those who have lost hope. In their line of work, the price of a new dawn to come was heavy and steep with constant partings.

But, it didn’t stop her from wanting to reach for him. She knew it’s impossible for her to rise to heaven’s solitude, but she would never know unless she tried.

If she failed, then let her become his north star for he deserved happiness as much as everyone.

“Shion?”

“Huh?” Shion jolted slightly. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”

“Still thinking of your hubby’s handsome face?” Gojo smirked.

“And, I’m gonna deny it this time.” Shion replied in a deadpan tone. “So, what were you saying?”

Gojo tapped his fingers against the coffee cup of his hot chocolate. “Have you kissed someone else before me?”

That’s quite the unexpected question.

“Kiss?” Shion repeated, genuinely confused as to why Gojo would ask this particular question.

“Yep!” Gojo nodded enthusiastically. “It’s when two people’s lips-”

“I know what a kiss means, Satoru.” Shion interrupted him before taking a sip of her milk from the carton. “I’m not a child.”

“Yet, you didn’t see the problem wearing Mei Mei’s gift to the beach,” Gojo mumbled, shaking his head as he eyed Shion’s raised brows. “Anyways, I bet no one kissed you before I did on our wedding day.”

And, he’s damn proud of it. Secretly.

"Well…if you're talking about if I'm the one who initiated the kiss, then, you’re right." Shion tilted her head to the side. "But, if someone did it first, then, you’re the second guy."

Now, this truly got Gojo’s full attention, causing him to put his hot beverage aside. Who would have thought that someone kissed his lovely wife before him? Unexpectedly, the thought sent his blood boiling.

“Who?” He asked.

Shion furrowed her brows. Why did it feel like she’s being interrogated, right now?

"I believe it's none of your business who kissed me."

"Was it Nanamin? Haibara?" Gojo gasped. "Don’t tell me, it’s the Zen’in brat?”

Shion made a face when he mentioned Naoya. How could he forget his wife’s annoyance towards that guy? It’s evident with the way she slapped him as she tried to give him CPR once.

If it’s not one of those three he mentioned, who else could have kissed Shion?

Unless…there’s a good chance it might be him …

“Was it Suguru?”

Gojo was thankful he was wearing his shades to cover the shock in his eyes. Shion’s expression bloomed instantly into a lovely shade of red. She immediately averted her gaze as she cradled her right hand with her other.

Immediately, a familiar yet disgusting feeling swelled in his chest.

Without a word, Gojo carefully cupped his wife’s cheeks, making her look at him with flustered cheeks and her red lips slightly apart. The distance between their faces became zero with his lips pressed against hers. He resisted the urge to smirk in their kiss when he heard a small gasp from his wife, prompting him to deepen it.

Gojo almost regretted kissing Shion—he could never imagine she’d be so addicting. The hot chocolate he had before against her cold lips from the milk she drank didn’t help. It made him crave more, more of it.

He didn’t care if he came off as greedy. His wife was too dumb to notice anyway. He needed something, or anything to dispel this jealousy. A feeling that he thought was buried, only for it to resurface once again.

Eventually, the kiss came to a stop. His heart still beat fast from the contact, but it eased after he pressed his forehead against hers for a minute.

“Well, am I a better kisser than him?"

He saw the gears turning behind Shion's eyes as she looked down at her hands again before meeting his gaze once more. “I-I don’t know…G-Geto never kissed me there, only my hand and head.”

On the outside, Gojo looked calm while wearing his signature smirk. However, inside, he’s screaming, trying to process the fact he kissed her.

“Why did you kiss me?” Shion asked.

‘I was jealous.’ Gojo thought.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, as that would be the same as a love confession. Why else would he feel envy, especially for something that happened so long ago?

Another little white lie wouldn’t hurt, right? Who knows? Maybe this lie would turn into the truth.

“I kissed you to prove there’s nothing going on between us,” Gojo answered. “Kissing isn’t much of a big deal if you think about it.”

“Then…what’s the answer you got?”

“I can’t tell yet, because one kiss isn’t enough,” Gojo responded with a genuine yet cheeky smile. “Can I kiss you again?”

It’s hard to deny the possibility that romance may have bloomed between two individuals. However, their relationship was already weird to begin with. They had skipped so many steps that saying they’re friends to someone was questionable, given how Gojo acted

Based on the romance media Shion usually indulged herself in, marriage out of pure convenience tended to end on one of two notes: either they learned to love one another, or they parted ways in an amicable manner. She hadn’t encountered yet where the relationship ended with both people screaming at each other because the characters grew more mature and learned from their mistakes to properly communicate.

Who knows, maybe she would witness it first hand if Gojo kept acting the way he was back in their first year of marriage.

Thinking about the opposite end of the romance novel spectrum--with couples dying of grief, unable to live without each other--was something that Shion couldn't imagine happening between them, either.

The idea of Gojo mourning for her death seemed plausible but letting the grief from it control him? That's unlikely to happen. He had too much on his plate with his role as the very pillar of the Jujutsu Society. If anything, she thinks her death wouldn’t leave much of an impact on Gojo’s life.

But if she kissed him to dispel the doubts he had, she would gladly do it so. Yet, she couldn't comprehend the small pang in her chest when she came to this conclusion.

"Alright," Shion stepped towards him, closing the distance between them. "Kiss me again, Satoru"

Shion watched Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded nonetheless. His free hand reached over, cupping the sides of her face gently again, before lowering himself closer to hers, until their noses were brushing against each other. Her eyes fluttered closed, and his lips soon pressed against hers.

Was it just her, or had this kiss become sweeter than before?

The kiss itself wasn’t overly sensual. In short, it lacked all the romantic elements that she expected. Yet, she still felt some sort of warmth blooming from the bottom of her stomach to the top of her head. And maybe even more than that, her heart beat faster and the feeling of possessiveness from Gojo wasn’t there at all. Instead, it was replaced with gentleness, and a hint of hesitation–just like she remembered back on their wedding.

However, their kiss ended a bit too quickly for her own liking when Gojo broke away suddenly. She unexpectedly felt a sense of disappointment, which confused her greatly. Was she supposed to feel a little bit of disappointment?

"Well?"

Gojo leaned further, almost until their lips were brushing against one another.

“Third time's a charm right?”

The mischievous tone in Gojo’s voice sent Shion spiraling as her curious expression became flustered. Of course–how the fuck she could forget that her husband is a troublemaker?!

“N-No!” Shion covered his mouth with both of her hands before pushing him away from her face. “I-I’m already embarrassed that we're doing it outdoors"

"So, if it's in our bedroom, can I have more?" Gojo chuckled as his wife slapped his arms with her cheeks puffed up.

How could she be any cuter than now?

“But, Shion~” Gojo cooed.

“Weren’t you trying to get rid of any romantic ideas about our marriage?” Her voice rose with embarrassment.

"Alright, alright," Gojo huffed a laugh, grabbing the coffee cup beside him. "Why don’t you get to bed? You have a mission lined up tomorrow morning."

Unbeknownst to Shion, as soon as she was out of sight, Gojo reached for his lips and a single thought formed in his head.

She tasted so sweet…

Immediately, his hand shifted to cover his mouth with his cheeks and tips of his ears exploding into multiple shades of crimson.

EXTRA

“How’s the trip?” Nanami unwrapped his store-bought sandwich. “It’s been a week hasn’t it?”

“It’s fun and relaxing.” Shion’s shoulders slumped. “I feel a bit bad that I didn’t get to wear Mei-san’s gift to the beach.”

“Why?” Nanami asked, watching Shion grab her phone in her pocket.

Shion scrolled through it before handing her phone to Nanami. “Satoru didn’t let me wear it. Honestly, I don’t see anything wrong with it. What do you think?”

Nanami took a bite of his sandwich before his eyes landed on Shion’s phone. Upon seeing her almost scantily clad ‘swimsuit’, he choked on his food as he coughed into his hand with his cheeks becoming red.

Well, shit. All hell would break loose if Gojo caught wind of the current situation.

“I need a drink.” Nanami grumbled.

“It’s a bit early?”

Ignoring his friend’s stupidity ignorance, Nanami grabbed a bottle of shochu from his cabinet, and poured a glass for himself. Usually, he took his time to drink this as it could be very heavy for someone like him, but he needed something strong now to keep himself from going insane.

Nanami chugged down the whole glass before pointing at his friend. “Don’t give Gojo even the slightest idea that you’ve shown me that picture, Shion.”

----------------------------------------------

Things that I like to share while writing this:

-The restaurant scene was supposed to be like a normal intimate talk, but then I remember how chaotic Gojo can and whill get. Thus, the proposal scene came in.

-At 12 am, I blasted Enchanted by Taylor Swift and Polaris by Aimer in my headphones while I was writing the night scene. Let me tell ya, it was a good of a roller coaster. 10/10 would do it again.

-The Geto bit before they kiss wasn't actually there in the first place until xerox-candybar (Who done an incredible job as always) brought up the fact that Geto kissed Shion twice. Immediately, I laugh maniacally while working from home as "I hear a symphony" by Cody Fry was playing in the background.

The extra scene was supposed to between Mei mei and Shion, but I chose Nanami. NGL, I was tempted to write a reader-insert for him, but I love and respect this man so much that I can't read or write romantically about him. HE JUST RADIATED STABILITY LIKE-

ANYWAYS, that's all from me. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you did, Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'll see you guys whenever the next chapter is up.

#gojo fluff #gojo x oc #gojo x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk oc

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no-gays-in-russia · 1 year

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ESC 2023 pre-rehearsal top 37

Places 37-26

37. Ireland: I defended this as long as I could but I just can’t anymore lol. I will always defend this winning Eurosong because honestly they gave the best performance that night, so I think it is fair they won. But the song itself, while not the worst, just gets incredibly repetitive and annoying after a while of listening to it, with cheesy and unoriginal lyrics.

36. Israel: I’m just not a fan of girly bops, so it’s not surprising that I don’t like this. I’m a little sad though because at first it sounded like something I could actually get behind, but it just gets worse and worse the more it goes on lol. I love the instrumental beginning, and the verses too are actually quite mysterious and interesting. The song really loses me at the chorus and EVERYTHING ELSE most of all. Towards the end it gets crazy chaotic and the ending is weird and abrupt.

35. Belgium: thought this would never elevate itself from last place, this is progress! Gustaph definitely seems like a great, really nice guy, so that helps lol. He’s a really good singer and performer too and puts a lot into his song. I was really mad at the song originally because Chèrine didn’t win (lmao we were all so petty for no reason) but honestly it’s not even bad- it’s just not my style. But I can’t lie I’ve been jamming to it every now and then...

34. San Marino: no it genuinely hurts my heart to put them here because y’all can believe me or not but I actually know these dudes lol. Two of them teach at my music school and the singer is a student of my singing teacher. I know the guitarist personally because he’s played guitar for me a bunch of times and has also recorded and produced some Eurovision covers I did. So when they won in San Marino I was SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. And I do have to say they are as far as I know super nice cool and talented guys. But I’m sorry, I really don’t like the song lol. It’s not awful, but it’s very repetitive, the singer sounds constantly pitchy (I swear our singing teacher is amazing pretty sure this is his fault lol) and the bridge with the high note is so... what? Part of me wants them to qualify because that’d be so cool but part of me just doesn’t want this song in the final... Let’s see what they do with the staging (I have some tea but I have been told not to spill it so I will stay quiet lol)

33. Romania: I relatively enjoyed the song at first, I like this bluesy vibe and his raspy voice, but listening to it more and more it’s started sounding quite annoying and weird. The lyrics are really random. He’s super talented for his age though!

32. Poland: BEJBAH. Okay look, the studio version actually is not THAT awful- it’s not my kind of thing, but the quality is fine and it’s somehow catchy. That live performance though... Oof.

31. Italy: seems like we came back to our old bland ballad ways after the blessing that was Zitti e Buoni... again, not the worst song but so unoriginal, bland and just plain boring. I like the bridge and love his vocals though. The pre-chorus is also quite cool.

30. United Kingdom: I had it last when it first came out, but it’s honestly been growing on me. Once again, not a fan of girl bops, but this one is quite solid and catchy. For some reason this gives me hispanic vibes? Either way it’s enjoyable and the lyrics are also somehow cool.

29. Azerbaijan: similarly to Ireland, I was a huge defender of it originally but it’s been growing off me. First of all, twins make me uncomfortable lol. I’m talking identical twins that sing together- they have the same voice and it sounds like one guy’s voice being reduplicated, it’s weird and doesn’t sound good to me. But besides that they have nice voices, and the concept for the structure at least is good. The lyrics are really plain and meaningless, and factually the song ends up being repetitive and annoying.

28. The Netherlands: has been growing on me a lot honestly! At first I just found it terribly boring, but now I see that there’s a peculiar sweet sadness to it which somehow sets it apart. The lyrics are pretty, and their vocals in the studio version are good- it’s a shame they’ve been not so great live, because with a good live performance, this could really have potential.

27. Malta: this is really catchy and fun, as well as the lyrics, but it’s a bit repetitive and just... I don’t know, feels empty and a bit meaningless? It’s fun, but not much else.

26. Ukraine: honestly, one of my biggest growers this ESC season. Similarly to Gustaph, back when Tvorchi won their NF I was mad that Jerry Heil or Krut hadn’t won, and unfairly projected that onto the song. As time went by I managed to clear my head of that; also the revamp has really elevated the song imo. Now I really enjoy listening to it, it’s dark, catchy and peculiar, with good structure too. I love the verse in Ukrainian and the instrumental at the end is gorgeous.

#eurovision #eurovision song contest #esc #eurovision 2023 #eurovision song contest 2023 #esc 2023

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vitaminwaterreviews · 5 months

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M.I.L.K. - With Freshness

Overall, very impressed with Milk. There was a decent amount of variety on the album, although they did maintain that kind of soft vocal mixing, I dunno how to explain it but I’m sure you can tell what I mean. The guitars felt super out of place whenever they were included but it totally worked for me. I can imagine other people not vibing as much though. It’s neat to see the “change up” in this album; Seo Taiji did similar things, but Milk are no Seo Taiji. Average score of 6.8 which feels about right. It was good, there were good parts, but as a whole I wouldn’t say the album was anything super special.

Crystal

Cracked up at the “don’t worry bout it” after that intro

The actual sound is very … well, crystal

MV is … bad CGI lol

Love the autotune, I think it’s used well here. Not bon bon chocolat, a lot more restraint

I have no idea where the chorus is or what the hooks are, but i love the vibe

The rap sections are wild. Male vocals mixed in there, with singing overtop? Nice

Are those baby noises? Cat noises?

8/10, honestly very impressed. Sounds a bit like S.E.S., but still fresh. Granted, I only know three S.E.S. songs, but still.

Come To Me

Intro is similar vibes to Crystal

Nice slow jam feel after the intro. The vocals are soft, harmonies, same with Crystal actually

Synth break at 1:08, that’s cool. I don’t think the instrumental does enough to justify it though

5/10, didn’t do much to impress me, felt very S.E.S., safe and boring. But I’m never a huge fan of this style of music anyway so oh well

Sad Letter

The synth here reminds me of this one flash game that I used to play in 2006. I can’t even remember the name of the game or what it’s about but that synth sound 100% sounds like that one game and now my memory is straining trying to figure out wtf that game was

Anyway, as you can tell by my comments, this isn’t it for me either

6/10

Blind Love

HOLY SHIT WE GOT SOME FUNK GOING ON

Okay I wish it was funkier throughout though. It’s like the vocals are necessarily mixed softly

Also is it just me or do they keep saying “danger zone”?

Yeah, more grit on the vocals. You don’t need pretty harmonies in funk, the bass is trying to carry here but I want more rap, more sax, more mph

7/10

All My Love For You

Wait what is this, ‘Cause I’m Your Girl?

WAIT WE GOT THE NMIXX CHANGE UP AT 1:40 wtff

Also whats with the random unnamed male rappers? This is like the third song where that’s happened

Oh my god though I can’t get over the change up,

That high note at 2:32 is literally ‘Cause I’m Your Girl, also so is the male doing part of the rap

7/10, I liked it a lot but it was like an S.E.S. imitation and that felt weird

I Want You

Harry Potter intro

Or maybe it’s Dreams Come True at this rate

Actually no, now that we’ve settled into it, I think I like where this going

HOLY SHIT THAT BASS

Ughhh the bass is actually carrying this so hard

And the guitar solo like wtf

This bridge is really forced. The return to the chorus sucked too

Background guitar is fun

8/10 but could be 7. I definitely liked it more than I disliked it

Secret

This intro is cool, we like string beats

This bass sounds like something out of Phineas and Ferb

I’m not convinced by any of this, it feels like the producer got their hands on a Logic sample library for the first time and made a song with random samples

Oh that false ending was cool, that actually got me

7/10, could be 8

Reason

Mmmm we love synthesized flute samples

I’m really impressed by the bass lines in all of these, they’re a lot more interesting than most modern kpop bass

The chorus hit but I was too busy writing the previous comment to pay attention

2:30 is really cool, I like the instrumental break with this selection of instruments

Yeah, I think I like this

8/10, if one of my faves released this I’d be all over it

Wish

Again, the slow jam stuff isn’t really my vibe

I do appreciate the harmonies

5/10, not my style, but I’m sure there are people who would enjoy this

She Never…

Intro is impressing me

Chorus, not so much

Okay, that rap break though. Another nmixx moment

I really vibe with the harmonies on top of the rap break, they do that a lot, that’s nice

The rest of this song is just not interesting enough to justify that good of a rap break

7/10

Stay With Me

Mmm groovy drums

Groovy bass, synths, vocal samples

The post-chorus measures tend to be more interesting than the chorus

The chorus is like, the least interesting part of these songs. I like the instrumentals, and the raps when they happen, but the choruses just aren’t catchy to me

6/10 purely for the samples

Good Time

Again, strong intro

This bass is actually so good

THERE’S THAT SYNTH AGAIN

Is that guitar in the background before the chorus?

Bringing back the autotune flourishes

Here’s the guitar again, good stuff

Haha the bridge here, nice and distorted, lofi

Cracked up as it led into the rap break I’m crying

This feels like the culmination of everything this album has to offer, I like it a lot

8/10

#album #kpop #M.I.L.K.

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writingpaperghost · 11 months

Text

From the Future With a Miracle (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5: My Heart Is Screaming So Much

Koushiro and Makoto have a conversation and then with a little help, Koushiro comes to a realization.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45877396/chapters/119383219

“This Diablo,” Hana began, unable to hide the worry in her voice, “he’s… a really powerful demon, isn’t he?”

Sakura faltered, ever so slightly, as she entered the lounge of the Deadmans’ base. Hana had already returned from aiding Makoto and that other Rider, as Sakura had heard from Tamaki. She’d fought Diablo, at least for a moment. Still, Sakura put on a reassuring smile, even if Hana didn’t believe it. “He’s unlike any other demon that you or Fenix have seen.”

Holding her Driver and the Bee Vistamp in her hand, Hana stared at them. “He shrugged off my attack, and he was shrugging off Makoto’s and that other Rider’s too.”

“It’s nothing that we can’t handle,” Sakura assured, “And for you, my queen, I’ve gotten a gift.” Reaching into her pocket, she produced the Vistamp she swiped from Karizaki’s lab. Holding it out, she smiles as Hana takes it.

Hana tilted her head, “A turtle?” she asked, turning the Vistamp around in her hand. “Is it like Makoto’s Marlin Vistamp?”

“I believe so, it should provide you with some extra power during the upcoming fight. Although, we should probably return it to Fenix after.”

“Return it,” Hana frowned again, “Why? It’s not like they’re going to like you any less if you don’t.”

Laughing a little, Sakura sat beside her, “I feel like playing nice with them.”

Though Hana pouted, she relented, “Fine.”

She’s pulled closer to Sakura, and Sakura gives her a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, my bee. It’s all a part of our plan.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that,” Hana admitted, “but I trust you.”

---

When Koushiro awoke, he figured out pretty quickly that he was in Happy Spa again. The last thing he remembered was fighting Diablo, definitely losing the fight, and now he was here. One of the Igarashis must have found him. Probably had to fight Diablo off, too.

He sits up, wincing, and sighs, “Goddamn,”

“Koushiro?” His demon hovered, worry evident in his voice.

“I’m fine,” Koushiro brushes it off and stands. Easily he finds his Driver and the Dragonfly Vistamp, again. “Now there isn’t time to waste-“

“Mr. Koushiro,” Makoto greets him with a smile. The smile hurts.

“…Makoto,” Koushiro takes a careful breath. “I take it you found me and brought me back here.”

Makoto nodded, leading Koushiro to the table he’d given Koushiro breakfast at earlier. “Sit down, Mr. Koushiro, I’ll get you some food.”

Koushiro’s quick to protest, “You don’t have to,”

“Well you could probably use it. Mama taught me to be kind, after all.” Koushiro could only watch Makoto, knowing this wasn’t a fight he could win.

“It’s nice of him,” His demon noted, “but I know what you’re thinking.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Koushiro called, even if Makoto was in the kitchen. He thinks Makoto can hear. “Why do you believe that I’m from the future, when no one else does?”

He thinks he hears Makoto hum, and then Makoto reappears with what appeared to be leftovers again. “I just don’t think you’re lying.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t. In some ways, I think it may be because you remind me a lot of Tamaki and Hana, but it’s not just that, either.” He sets the plate down, and Koushiro can’t deny that food sounds good right now. “And, I think… well, I can’t relate, but as Mr. Kamiyama put it, it’s terrible when no one believes you.”

Pulling a face at the unfamiliar name, Koushiro questioned, “Kamiyama?”

Again, Makoto smiled at him, “He’s another Rider, he was fighting Diablo when we found you.”

Something in Koushiro’s chest flutters at that, “Another Rider?” had he, in a way, found another Rider, just like he’d been trying to? “And… and he’s willing to help fight Diablo?”

“He and his friends, yes.” There’s something almost comforting about the smile Makoto wore, and Koushiro lets it lull him into something close to relaxation. “Which really just leaves you, Mr. Koushiro.”

“…Me.” Koushiro echoed.

Makoto nodded, “Will you help us, even though no one else believes you?”

“Of course, that’s what a Kamen Rider would do,” Koushiro assured, recalling everything his Kari-papa had ever said about Kamen Riders, every story he ever told. The heroes in those stories, they wouldn’t let something as trivial as people not believing where they came from stop them.

In response, Makoto tilted his head, and this curious expression crossed his face, “And you are a Kamen Rider,” it’s half a question, half a statement. “at least, I take it that’s what you feel you are.”

Why would Makoto question that? Wasn’t it obvious? “I have a Driver, I have a Vistamp, why wouldn’t I be a Rider?” He can’t help the irritation in his voice.

Yet Makoto only leaned against the wall – why hadn’t he sat down, anyway? “While I am no expert, I think there’s a difference between being a Kamen Rider, and being a Kamen Rider.” He watched Koushiro eat, and suddenly Koushiro didn’t feel quite so comfortable. “And I hate to say it, but I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

“Oh,” The demon settled down beside Koushiro, though the action was no comfort.

“What?”

“To be fair,” Makoto continued, “I don’t think I am yet, either. But I’d say it’s an important distinction. Something’s holding you back, Mr. Koushiro.”

Annoyance spiking, Koushiro stands, “Nothing’s holding me back,”

Seeming unbothered by Koushiro’s actions, Makoto simply said, “If you can’t see it, that might honestly be worse.”

“Bullshit! Nothing’s holding me back!” There’s a horrible feeling boiling in his chest and Koushiro just knows Makoto purposefully lulled him into relaxing just to do this.

“Koushiro,” his demon pleaded, “Calm down.”

But Koushiro ignores him, “I have to be a Rider, if I’m not then- then what’s the point? The heroes in all of Kari-papa’s stories… they’re the ones who can stop monsters like Diablo.”

“And you,” Makoto’s voice was harsh in some ways, yet also laced with this… smugness. “can’t stop Diablo. Every fight he could very well have killed you if he hadn’t lost interest, or Mr. Kamiyama, Aguilera, and I hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“What would you know?” Koushiro snapped, “You said it yourself, you don’t think you’re- you’re a real Rider, so what would you know?”

Then Makoto smiled again, “That’s the thing, I really don’t. But if my words are riling you up this much… Well…” his smile only turns sharper. If Koushiro didn’t know any better, he’d think Makoto the wolf, rather than Tamaki. He crossed his arms, and somehow he seems almost like an entirely different person. One who was far less kind than the Makoto he’d seen previously. “I think I should be going, now, but you’re welcome to stay. Mama and Papa are here, they know you’re here.”

Suddenly uncertain, Koushiro asked, “Where… where are you going?”

“To Fenix, we’ve got Diablo to deal with, after all.”

“I’m coming with you,” Koushiro reached for his Vistamp.

“No, you’re staying here,” Makoto responded, “until you can figure out whatever’s holding you back.”

He curled his hands into fists, “You can’t stop me.”

Makoto reached out, placed a hand on Koushiro’s shoulder, then pushed him back down. “I can, Mr. Koushiro, because I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“What’s different between you and me?” He can’t help the desperation in his voice.

There’s a bitter tone to Makoto’s voice when he answered, “The things that hurt me don’t hold me back when I fight.”

The things that hurt Koushiro… there was no way they were holding him back. He’d been careful not to let them. Just like the heroes in Kari-papa’s stories. The things that hurt him didn’t matter. Even as there’s some part of him that wonders just what it was that hurt Makoto.

“And if you can’t stop Diablo?”

“That’s our problem,” Makoto assured, “But right now, I think your efforts are better spent on yourself.”

Koushiro doesn’t argue, despite the horrible feeling swirling in his chest. And Makoto leaves, leaving Koushiro to sit at the table, confused and teetering on overwhelmed. Everything Makoto said echoing in his ears, bouncing and growing louder instead of fading.

“Koushiro?” His demon calls with concern.

Nothing was hurting him.

“Koushiro, what’s wrong?” He tried again, falling on deaf ears.

Nothing was hurting him.

---

Touma Kamiyama has a strange presence, Daiji thinks. He was on the tall side, and that was certainly a part of it. Perhaps it was the way he dressed, something not entirely unordinary but certainly not common. Or maybe it was the friends he brought with him – they were dressed far more oddly. There was certainly something particularly strange about one of them – a man named Yuri, Kagerou declared him Not Quite Human, though Daiji knew instinctively that he wasn’t like them, either.

Of course, most of this is overwhelmed by Karizaki being embarrassing. Despite the fact that there was an eminent threat, Karizaki was instead fanboying and asking for autographs. Rather quickly, Daiji decides he should stop Karizaki before he gives anyone the wrong idea of Fenix.

So he walks up and grabs Karizaki by the back of his dumb coat, “Karizaki, now is not the time for this.”

It’s little surprise when Karizaki pouts, “It isn’t as though Diablo’s attacking right now.”

“This dumbass,” Kagerou groaned.

Thankfully, Daiji doesn’t have to argue with Karizaki, at least not alone, as Hiromi comes up to them. “Daiji is right, we have to prepare to stop Diablo – if what these other Riders say is right, he’s likely planning something. We likely don’t have much time to waste.”

“Too bad Makoto isn’t back yet,” Karizaki said, more than a hint of annoyance in his voice. “What’s he doing, anyway?” He looked past Daiji, over to where Tamaki stood and was awkwardly conversing with two of Kamiyama’s friends – the man in a blue coat and the woman who always stuck close to him.

Tamaki, seeming to somehow know that Karizaki was looking for a response from him, looks over, ears perked up. He must have heard Karizaki. “He said he was going to take care of Mr. Koushiro’s injuries… Mr. Kamiyama?”

Kamiyama supplies, “He said something about wanting to wait until Mr. Koushiro woke up…”

Karizaki scowled, “Your brother is too soft, Igarashi.”

Tamaki scoffed, “Makoto isn’t soft, Karizaki,” a frown tugged at his lips, “He’s just… paying it forward.”

“Makoto told me that none of you believe that Mr. Koushiro is from the future,” Kamiyama said, curious.

“It’s very unbelievable,” Daiji responded, “demons are one thing, and clearly he’s no ordinary human, but being from the future…”

“Well I believe him,” There isn’t a hint of doubt or uncertainty in Kamiyama’s voice.

It sounded like a fools’ choice, but it was Kamiyama’s choice regardless.

And then Makoto runs up, “Sorry it took me so long!”

Crossing his arms, Tamaki asked, “Where’s Mr. Koushiro?”

Makoto cringed, “That’s… he’s… still at Happy Spa. I don’t think he’ll be much help, as is.”

That information seemed to surprise Kamiyama, “His injuries didn’t seem quite so bad.”

“It’s something else,” Makoto answered, “and it’s something he’ll need to figure out, I think.”

Tamaki groaned, “Makoto… come on. What the hell does that mean?”

“He’s got something to work out, something that’s hurting him and holding him back. We’ve got the help of Mr. Kamiyama and his friends,” It was clear that Makoto wasn’t entirely confident in his own words, “So I think we’ll be okay.”

“Well, it wasn’t like he was really helping much,” Tamaki groused, “But still. You left him with Mama and Papa?”

Giving Tamaki a smile, Makoto assured, “It’ll be fine.”

Daiji could see an older brother’s lies of reassurance. It’d be a lie to say he hadn’t told the same sort of things to Sakura, once upon a time. Ikki was even more guilty of it.

“Now,” Makoto began, “I think we have some preparing to do, to stop Diablo, right?”

---

At some point, Koushiro had stood up again, began to wander the house, staring at all the pictures. Plenty of who Koushiro is pretty sure is the Igarashi parents, and even more of the rest of the family. All five, in some, featuring a girl who must be Hana. And then there was… he thinks it might be some kind of shrine – for a while Kari-papa had something vaguely similar set up. There were baby pictures, even in some the children seemed a couple years older, but never all that old. Never really more than young children. A soccer ball sat in the corner, and there was a little blue snake plush in another.

These children… it takes Koushiro a moment to realize who they were. And his chest only hurts more when he does. A shrine to three missing children, three children who were probably dead now, certainly were in his own time. A shrine to lost hopes and missing dreams.

“They would have loved you, I think.” His demon says, tone gentle. “It’s a shame what happened to them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Koushiro whispered.

He stares at one picture in particular, of the three children together. The youngest must have just been born, recently, all swaddled. The middle boy held her, aided by the eldest. They looked… cute, he thinks. It was a pity that it likely hadn’t lasted all that long.

Tentatively, his demon asked, “If you could, would you want to meet them?”

Koushiro’s answer was slow, his throat tightening a little, “You… you know the answer to that.”

“Well, maybe I want to hear it from you myself.”

Hesitantly, Koushiro answered in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And your parents?” His demon inquired further, “Don’t you want to meet them? To get to know them?”

The words that tumble out of Koushiro’s mouth are automatic, absentminded, “There isn’t time-“

“Would you shut up about that!?” Snapped his demon.

Koushiro winced, but didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he pulled the Dragonfly Vistamp out and stared at it. Whatever answers he may have hoped to find, they weren’t there. The Vistamp couldn’t give him that.

And then he’s taken out of his thoughts by a kind voice, “You must be Koushiro.”

He turned to look, faced to face with the one he knew as Yukimi Igarashi, Makoto and Tamaki’s mother. He’d seen her in the pictures at this shrine, and in Kari-papa’s picture, for as long as he can remember. He knew little about her, just that she was kind and loving.

Still, he’s surprised to see her. “Ah, y-yeah.”

“Oh, did Makoto not give you that shirt?” She looked him over curiously, with a hint of concern.

Unsure of what she was talking about, Koushiro tilted his head in confusion, “…shirt?”

“Yes, Makoto made a shirt for you and your wings… hold on, I’ll get it for you.” She hurried off, leaving Koushiro standing there in confusion. He really had no clue what she was talking about.

So he just stands there and waits, and soon enough Yukimi returned with a folded shirt in her arms. He recognized it as a Happy Spa shirt that, as he found when she handed it to him, had been cut to allow his wings through. Unlike the shirt he wears now, it was sewn so that the edges where it was cut wouldn’t fray.

Makoto had made this for him, but why?

“He has been kind to you,”

Looking up at Yukimi again, he can see that Yukimi is smiling at him. “…Why did Makoto…?”

“He wanted to do something nice for you.” She answered, “he’s learned to be kind, and he could see that you’ve been through a lot.” She ushers Koushiro off to change, and he doesn’t get the chance to try to argue. There was no point in protesting, he could tell she wouldn’t give him much room to, and he didn’t particularly have the energy to, either.

He can’t deny that the shirt was a bit of a better solution than what he and his Kari-papa had figured out. There was also something just very… nice, about the shirt itself. Maybe it was the kindness shown in its very existence. In his future, there was never really anyone around to be kind to him, save for Kari-papa. But Kari-papa was different than people who really didn’t know him.

There’s a horrible ache in Koushiro’s chest. It’s been there since he came to the past, since Kari-papa died. He’s pushed it aside, because it doesn’t have a place here, but somehow, it’s only grown. What had been something he could ignore had grown and grown until now, where he struggled ignore it. The more it grew, the less space it felt like there was for it, his chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Short of breath and face beginning to feel too warm, Koushiro returns out, and Yukimi was right where she was before. Waiting for him. “It fits you,” She noted, giving him a once over, “that’s good.”

“It… does,” He said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the tightness of his throat or his lack of breath.

Despite his best efforts, she seems to see the growing pain in him, “Is everything alright?”

He wants to say what he always does. That he’s fine enough and that there isn’t time for dealing with it. But the words don’t come out, “It’s… I’m…” he’s shaking a little, he notes, maybe not enough for her to notice, but enough that he can. Regardless, it was obvious that she could see just how badly he was doing in that moment.

“Koushiro, I think you need to finally take a moment for yourself,” his demons words are filled with concern. His demon always seemed so concerned about him. “take a moment to grieve.”

Normally Koushiro would have protested, but somehow, he couldn’t find it in him. Instead, he only whispered, “I miss my papa.”

A sympathetic look crossed Yukimi’s face, “If what Makoto has said is true, you are very far from home.”

“Not just that… he’s… he’s dead.” He was crying, now. Vision blurry, but he couldn’t help but keep looking towards Yukimi.

She reached out, and pulled him into a hug, to his surprise. “Oh Koushiro… you really have been pushing yourself too hard.” Koushiro returned the hug, barely holding in a sob. It was warm, like his Kari-papa’s hugs.

He hurt.

“I… I have to… make him proud,” He choked out, closing his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders,” She assured, “besides, I’m certain he’s already proud of you.”

Maybe she was right. Kari-papa had always loved him so much, Koushiro had never doubted that. Kari-papa did all he could to raise Koushiro the best he could, like he was his own son, and not just one that he’d been entrusted with the safety of. All of Koushiro’s best memories were of Kari-papa, of all the things they did to pass the time in the forty something long years of Koushiro’s life.

And yet, even if Kari-papa was proud of him, even if it was just making it this far… that wasn’t all that hurt in Koushiro’s chest. But did he dare to voice the other thing? The family he never knew? The family he now wasn’t letting himself know, because he didn’t feel there was time.

Taking a deep breath, his words were still shaky, “I… I also… I want to make my… my family proud, even if they never know who I am.”

“You’re trying to help people, Koushiro,” Yukimi said, kind and reassuring. “I’m sure, even without knowing you’re apart of their family, they’d be proud. I can tell these things.”

He can’t help his laugh, “You think so? I… I think you’re right.” He was hesitant to let go of her, now. He felt safe – was this what he would have felt if he’d known his mother growing up? “Makoto, Tamaki, and Hana are lucky to have you as their mother.”

She let go of him, and he reluctantly pulled away. But he could see her smile, something wonderful and warm. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

“No, no,” Koushiro shook his head, “I wish I could have had you around growing up. Really, I wish I could have had all of you as my family. I think it would have made everything a little… better.”

“Well, you seem to have turned out perfectly well. Here you are, after all, doing all you can to save the world.” She believed in him, he could tell just by how she spoke. It drove the remnants of that terrible feeling out of his chest, filling it with something warm and wonderful.

He smiled, and he let that warmth grow and grow, “I’m going to make sure Diablo is defeated,” he said, “and I know I can’t do that alone and I know I’m not really all that special, but… it’s all I can do.”

Still holding the Dragonfly Vistamp in his hand, Koushiro felt more confident than he ever had before. After all, as long as Diablo was defeated, the rest didn’t matter. If he died, it would be much different from if he lived. That was something he’d accepted a long time ago, and nothing would change it.

And then the Vistamp glowed, and it changed in his hand. He didn’t know they could do that. Wide eyed, he raised it up to get a better look at it, and Yukimi seemed just as surprised by the sudden glowing.

“What…?” He muttered, uncertain of what was occurring.

His demon looks over his shoulder, and though he has no mouth he seems to smile, “We’ve become stronger.”

His Vistamp had changed, even if he didn’t know why or how. His Vistamp had changed and, according to his demon, they would be stronger. Maybe… maybe they could finally stop Diablo?

“Not on our own,” His demon said, hand placed over Koushiro’s own that held the Vistamp, “but with the Emperor Dragonfly Vistamp, we’ll be strong enough to make the difference we need to.”

Koushiro nodded, understanding, “Then we need to catch up with the others. Hopefully they haven’t already started their fight against Diablo.” Even if they had, Koushiro thinks it might be okay if they get there quick enough.

“I take it you’ll be leaving, now?”

“Yeah,” Koushiro answered, “we are.”

“To Fenix!” his demon declared.

With a barely contained smile and a nod, Koushiro agreed, “To Fenix,”

#kamen rider revice #kamen rider #without you #from the future with a miracle #my writing

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