#I wish i was a better violinist so I could make this happen a little bit

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sleep Token on Royal Albert Hall with a live orchestra. Ascensionism starts with a beautiful string section. The cellos take over with some really soft, high violin tremolos, and a beautiful viola base.

[lostwords-found]

Oh no. Oh fuck. I am relistening to some of the earlier Protocol episodes, and I have a horrible, terrible, no good very bad suspicion about Gerry.

I could, I want to emphasize, be completely wrong! I could be wildly, hilariously, off the mark. But--hear me out. This is going to take some explaining about what I think is going on in the bigger picture worldbuilding stuff; hopefully it'll be coherent, but fair warning, it may get a bit long.

First: there have been a lot of cases that have boiled down to trying to keep only the "good"/desirable/etc aspects of things or events or people, and discard the "bad"/unwanted, right? We saw this happening very explicitly in episode 23 with Alesis Newman, and way back in episode 2 with Daria the painter, but a number of episodes have presented variations on a similar theme.

Two variations in particular that I've been thinking a lot about are the violinist in episode 4 and the gambler in episode 9. The violinist can play his violin beautifully, but he wants to be rid of the price in flesh and blood that it demands. Similarly, the gambler wants the rewards of rolling high on his magic dice, but wants to be rid of the misfortunes that come with rolling low. Crucially, both episodes make clear that in this type of balance--something unwanted for something wanted--you can't just make the unwanted piece vanish. It has to go somewhere, it has to happen. But you can make it happen to someone else, somewhere else. And when that's how the game works, one of the major questions for players who want to get ahead then becomes: "how do I make the bad stuff stay happening somewhere else, and keep reaping the benefits of the good stuff that balances it out?"

Here's where this gets wildly speculative and from here on I freely acknowledge that I may be talking out my ass:

I think the Magnus Institute was investigating that question. I suspect a great many alchemists before the Institute, probably going back to the times of Albertus Magnus, were investigating it as well. I think the Great Work they were attempting -- the "universal transmutation" alluded to in episode 21 as the Magnus Institute's aim -- was the exact opposite of Jonah Magnus's own "Great Work" in TMA. In other words, I think they were probably trying to make the world an eternal paradise, rather than an eternal hell.

But if you're getting rid of all the "bad" stuff, all the suffering and misfortune, it's got to go somewhere.

I think they were sending it through to other worlds.

I'm not going to get into all the reasons I think that right now, because that's a whole essay in itself, but basically--the Leitners in TMA? The artifacts? All the little bits and pieces of evil given physical form, that never had a clear origin point in the world where they caused so much suffering for so long? We've all been worried about them winding up here, post-Archives... but I think this is where they came from in the first place. I think they were sent away in the hopes that an increase in "bad" in other worlds would lead to an increase in "good" in this one. Remember all those books Albrecht von Closen found in the tomb in the Black Forest in TMA, that Jonah Magnus later stole and let loose on the world? Remember that Albrecht found a mysterious coin along with them dated 1279? Albertus Magnus died in 1280; I strongly suspect he sent those books from the world of Protocol to that of Archives shortly before his death, much as the world of Archives sent the tapes away centuries later. But I think Protocol's world kept sending things away, kept trying to export "bad" and import "good". Remember all those happy, laughing volunteers bringing strange and sinister items to the charity shop on Hill Top Road in episode 7? "All for a good cause."

Okay so. Now. With that bit of hypothetical framework for Protocol's worldbuilding in place, let's next go back to Alesis Newman of episode 23. Her expressed wish is to create a new her. "Someone better. Someone the pain can't touch." Someone who can be everything Alesis wishes she could have been. Someone "free of all (her) mistakes."

But increasingly it sounds like what she actually wants isn't to create someone new. It is to create someone who is only a part of her current self. Someone who, she says in one of her last few posts, will "just be the good parts of me."

And if that's the case, if what she's really trying to do is make someone who holds only the "good" parts of her, someone who can be happy and strong and perfect and loved by everyone forever... what happens to the bad parts of Alesis Newman, as she currently exists? What about the parts of her that feel pain and fear, the parts of her that make mistakes, the parts of her that she rejects?

One might assume, from the experience she narrates, that those pieces of her are simply being destroyed. But that doesn't line up with the suggestion we've seen from earlier episodes that there has to be some kind of balance maintained in these bargains. What she actually says is happening to her--and what the forum members have apparently told her will happen, through this process--is that she and this "new her" are "becoming one... and then two."

I don't think the "bad" parts of Alesis Newman are dying. I think they're also going to become a "new her"--they're just going to go somewhere else, somewhere the new, happy, strong, perfect version of Alesis Newman never has to see them.

Still with me?

Okay.

Now let's talk about Gerry. Let's talk about the smiling, laughing, irrepressibly happy Gerry Keay we meet early in Protocol. Gerry who seems to have everything that the Gerry Keay of Archives was denied.

Gerry who underwent tests at the Magnus Institute as a child, and who, per the static over his and "Gee Gee's" words, holds a few more secrets about what went on there than he let on to Sam and Celia.

Back when I first heard Gerry's appearance in episode 8, it sure felt like a narrative gut punch: This is who he could have been in Archives, if not for the presence of the Fears. This is what Jon and Martin's final decision threatens to destroy--for this safe, happy version of Gerry, and for everyone else in his world.

I'm now suspecting it might be significantly worse than that. I think the Magnus Institute might have done to Gerry Keay something similar to what Alesis Newman later did to herself: made him New. Kept only the good parts--ensured a happy, comfortable, good life for him. In which case, all the bad stuff--all the parts of Gerry Keay that would ever have to suffer from bad luck, to feel pain and fear and misery...

...well. They'd have had to go... somewhere else, wouldn't they.

Which would suggest I had the causality the wrong way around the first time I heard Gerry's appearance in Protocol: maybe it's not "Gerry has a happy life in this world because he didn't have to suffer everything that the Gerry Keay of Archives did."

Maybe it's "Gerry in Archives had to suffer everything he did because Gerry in Protocol was made to always be happy."

[scrrra]

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 COULD THIS BE LOVE ?

things done and said in while falling in love with you

PAIRING ★ ot9 zb1 x gn! reader , GENRE ★ fluff , WARNINGS ★ mention of injury , WORD COUNT ★ 612

★ 김지웅 is the type to smile easily because of you. Whether it's hearing your voice or someone mentioning your name, he can't stop the corners of his mouth turning upwards. It's embarrassingly cute the way his face lights up when you're mentioned, or how the sound of your voice can make his day ten times better than it was. He thinks if you as his happy pill, calling you when he's down or just misses you.

✳︎ rest are below the cut!

★ 장하오 is the type to praise you more than himself. Anything you do, whether small or big, he's going to tell you how good you are at it. You could have played an out of tune attempt on his violin and Hao will be telling all his friends that you could be the best violinist ever. His friends are probably sick of how he praises you so much, to the point where he'll say you're better than him at everything too.

★ 성한빈 is the type to always look for you. With the softest look on his face, you're the first one he searches for in a crowd. It's a small thing, but doesn't go unnoticed. From the way he'll put conversations on hold to do a quick scan around the area, he just wants to look for you. Hanbin cares a lot, and he's the type to keep a motherly eye on things, but in your case, he just feels more comfortable with you there.

★ 석매튜 is the type to laugh at everything you say because to him you're the funniest person in the world. He'll be giggling at your lame joke because when you laugh with him, his heart flutters. He gives the perfect reaction to everything you say. A stupid joke? He's laughing like crazy. Point something cool out? He's looking like it's the most amazing and spectacular thing in the world!

★ ���태래 is the type to learn all your favourite songs on guitar, just so he can serenade you when you wish. He will sit for hours in his room with his guitar, listening to your song of the week on repeat just so he can play it next time you meet and he can see your bright smile. It makes Taerae smile too, dimples and all. He doesn't do this to this extent for anyone, but if you sent him a playlist of a 100 songs he'd learn them all.

★ 리키 is the type to take you as a plus one to everything. Any event that's about to happen, you're the first person he thinks of to bring along. He takes you everywhere with him. Going out for dinner? I wonder what Y/N is up to. A gala event? I should get Y/N a new outfit. Ricky does it without realising it, you're his permanent partner even platonically.

★ 김규빈 is the type to bring you up at any given moment because everything reminds him of you. Someone could mention ice cream, and he'd bring up the flavour you like You like a certain show? Any time it's on (not in your presence) he's talking about how it's your favourite and you made him watch it once. Even video games start reminding him of you, talking about your Valorant main while on voice chat as everyone moves to mute him.

★ 박건욱 is the type to make sure you don't hurt yourself. He makes sure you don't bump into corners or slip on something on the floor by sort of baby proofing. He cleans up when you're visiting, keeps his hand on edges while you walk, always just a centimeter away from making sure you're safe. Gunwook also does little things like walking on the busy side of the sidewalk so you aren't exposed to any sort of danger.

★ 한유진 is the type to let you do whatever you want to him. This is said in the sense that he lets you use his phone, do his makeup, style his hair, you can name it. He'll let you poke his cheeks with no complaint. Dress him up like a doll if you want, he's at your total beck and call. Yujin doesn't let anyone else do this, at least not without whines paired alongside.

thank you for reading ★ reblogs appreciated !

[couldtransitionsaveher]

KYOSUKE KAMIJO from PUELLA MAGI MADOKA MAGICA

JUSTIFICATIONS:

"Vibes tbh, idk, seems very transfem." - @lily-the-smol

"Look. L o o k. She's already seen as nothing else than a being who possesses little to no autonomy; not by her parents for making her take up the job of being a violinist in the first place, not by the doctors who flat-out said that she will never be able to heal and play the violin again in her face, and, as much as I love the both of them, not even by Sayaka and Hitomi who saw her as some object of affection who is only there to make their lives a little more "complete" and is unable to form her own opinions. My girl is super fucking DEPRESSED, and the fandom fucking vilified her for...being a distressed 14 yo who didn't reciprocate Sayaka's feelings (even though she never knew it was thanks to Sayaka's wish that she made a speedy recovery).

Okay, I get that it was sucky that she didn't tell Sayaka that she had to leave the hospital early, but I have to bring Kyosuke's possible shitty parents because not only does she still have doctors investigating this "miraculous recovery" up her ass, but she was also immediately thrown back into the professional violinist role, so it was very possible that she might have been overwhelmed by deadass everything around her.

For Madokami's sake, her depression's even amped up in both the PSP and Mobage games; stating that she has nothing to aspire to in life if she cannot play the violin anymore. Just what on earth happened for shit to be That BadTM?!

What I am trying to say is that my girl deserved better- from the narrative, from the franchise as a whole, and from the fans. She's so so so so so so SO trans-coded; Gen Urobuchi can fight me over this, idc." - @puella-1n-somn10

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

[zabberzim]

Fic ideas for the LanDot nation

The many LanDot ideas I have but never got to write (it’s midterms now ;-;)

I’ll classify this into spoilers and non spoilers for the manga so anyone can read this :3

No Spoilers fanwork ideas

Dot gets told that his love life will flourish by a prophet and he is HYPED

Based off the official fan book info where he spends his pocket money on monthly prophet magazines.

Astrology guy x Astronomy guy

Shenanigans ensue

Dot has a nightmare where he is surrounded by Anna dolls

The dolls tell him to confess/make sense of his feelings like the Christmas ghost of the past, the future and the present

Could be a reoccurring nightmare or just a one time thing, both give Dot a sense of “???huh???” But being a little bit of a believer, he really thinks about it and what it could mean.

Feelings realisation with the help of a little girl he’s never personally met

Lance makes merch for Anna and made one of Dot to get back at him

It was funny until it wasn’t, Lance feels like he has to make it look perfect and struggles on how none of the pictures he had does Dot justice. Some of them are goofy in a dorky way, some others are just him being angry, and there are just some that he can’t bring himself to make merch of…

A little bit of feelings realisation, as a treat

And or he can try to get a good photo

Established relationship, Dot and Lance try to keep it low, but their matching earrings/accessories gave it away…

and it’s prequel

Established relationship, the origin of the matching accessories

I HC Lance to show affection through gifts or materialistic means more than Dot (see. His merch collection)

Early in the relationship, a pair of matching accessories catch Lance’s attention. He buys it for himself and Dot to wear together.

Dot was initially a bit bashful but gives in.

Their friends begin to notice this and starts to wonder what’s going on between the two.

There’s a little cut out of Dot in the lower right corner of Lance’s pendant now

RPG AU (based off of light novel/choose your own adventure books 2&3) Dot has his tummy exposed, Lance dotes him on it

On the cover of the 2nd LN/CYOA book, Dot, presumably with the class barbarian, doesn’t have his clothes cover him properly. Being the older brother that he is, Lance dotes on him.

An exposed tummy leaves one with a higher chance of being sick , Lance offers Dot his cape.

Dot is flattered by this but ends up getting sick anyway

Established/Developing relationship: meeting the family

Either Dot brings Lance to meet his family to get semi-interrogated by Malta (Dot’s grandma and mother watch from the sidelines, his grandma is also surprisingly capable of being intimidating)

Or Lance gets Dot to meet Anna, Dot gets seriously interrogated by a 12 year old over tea.

The gang gets an invite to Macaron’s Orchestra when Dot gets to perform as the violinist, Lance is surprised and slightly moved by the music

Dot is good at the violin, of course he should perform.

Lance wasn’t there at the scene where he was playing, so I want him to be the only one slightly surprised at this reveal and very surprised that Dot can actually play well.

Fantasy AU: knights and dragons( Dot is the knight and Lance is the Dragon)

In this fantasy AU, princesses being locked in towers is still something that happens, albeit somewhat rare.

Due to her age and politics of her kingdom, Princess Anna was sent to escape with her brother when their kingdom was under attack. Lance can transform into a dragon because of some potion he took in order to better protect Anna. He keeps her in the tower most of the time for safety, but Anna still gets lonely, so she makes paper airplanes and flies them out to try to find people occasionally (Despite her brother’s disapproval, she does it while he isn’t looking)

Aspiring young knight of a nearby kingdom, who wishes nothing more to find a princess of his own stumbles upon one of these planes (after many attempts to save tower princesses and proposing to girls, royalty or not)

When reaching the tower while Lance was away, it was clear Anna isn’t the princess he’s looking for, but he still plays with her before her brother comes back. (Big scare)

Semi-domestic fluff: Since Anna isn’t the right princess, maybe her brother is ?

Demon AU: Demon Dot and Human Lance

Dot, a demon, accidentally gets summoned when Lance, a human, wanted to summon a guardian Angel for his sister.

With no real return button, Dot’s just stuck there I guess. Lance makes Dot act as Anna’s guardian Angel despite knowing the fact that he’s a demon

(Angels, demons, similar spell; this Demon that he summoned is the best he can get atm, and he technically still has to fulfil his wish of keeping his sister safe. Plus, he’s got some little bits of feathers on his wings, it’s like a discounted Angel at worst)

Other people can see Dot, not his wings, tail or horns though

More details here hehe

(WINGS WINGS WINGS

Hi, I was a Destiel fan , can you tell?)

Excessive use of the Ira Kruez makes Dot ill, team mom Lance is here to help

Sick fic! Using Ira Kruez in the rain causes Dot to have a magical burnout. Lance takes care of him in a sick fic way

Alternatively:

Dot falls from the fucking sky because of a broom mishap, Lance takes care of him with bad pick up lines and more

Mash gets challenged by Lloyd Cavill’s goons and Dot takes up the challenge for his friend. The competition was rigged and a broom mishap happened half way through, leaving Dot badly injured.

Lance is the only one who can take care of him periodically because 1. He’s good with class so he can skip skip sometimes 2. He’s the most capable at take care of people amongst their group of friends.

The bad pick up line part came from “laughter is the best medicine”, it’s advice the others gave to Lance when Dot is still in a magic coma, amongst many other dumb suggestions.

“Did it hurt?”

“Huh??”

“When you fell out of the sky and got a concussion “

A little more display of affection, Dot eating it up.

They are both dumb

Modern AU: Doctor Lance and less successful/ failing musician Dot; And they were roommates

Years after graduation, the gang goes their separate ways. Mash becomes an unconventional cream puff baker, Finn becomes a public servant, Lemon works in her family’s bookshop suspiciously close to Mash’s bakery. Lance works at a high paying job as a successful doctor, and no one really knows what Dot is up to…

A chance meeting after work leads Lance to find out (fuck around, find out)

Lance bumps into Dot at a convenience store. It wasn’t a route he passed by much, so it was a surprise to see the spiky red haired boy there, handing in… something and looking dejected.

Upon meeting Lance’s eyes, Dot hopped over with faux-familiarity and an air of awkwardness when he offered to grab dinner, dragging him by the elbow to leave.

Over some fried rice with a few cups of beer, Dot vents his troubles in finding work after his ambitions to start a band failed; he got kicked out from his last apartment for late rent and his sister is starting to nag him to move out of hers. Lance just pats Dot’s back as he wails shitfaced. In the end, Lance brings Dot home so he can rest.

Naturally, Lance paid for that meal.

In this AU, the gang are all adults, so I HC Anna to be in junior/high school.

Anna obviously would live with Lance. Idk if i should make Anna’s illness a thing in this AU.

The Crown family is middle high class, fairly influential,

Despite Lance’s success, they cut ties with him (homophobia? )

Anyways that my idea

TBC

Spoilers to manga)

Lance has difficulty balancing work as a new DV, Dot offers to help out as his assistant DV

Between Anna, school work and DV work, life has been hard to handle as of late. Shortly after a chat with Orter Madl, unlikely help appears in the form of Dot Barrett!

Dot’s reason for volunteering as his assistant :

It’d look good on his CV

He can spend more time at the Bureau of Magic, maybe the three of them can get lunch tgt more often

It’s a good opportunity to poke fun at Lance

Established relationship: PTSD or nightmares of the final battle

The scene was so all too familiar to him: Lance rushing forward to block the projectiles before he could even react; his warm body slumping down on his as the smell of iron, the liquidy feeling of warm blood seeps through the cape into his palms, now stained red. What if Lance died that day? Why is he always putting himself in danger?

Memories of the final battle twist into nightmares in Dot’s mind

Dot finds a pin with his face on it among the many other Anna pins

Short and sweet, possible sequel to Lance making Dot merch fic idea.

Remember the sea of Anna pins that acted as chain mail for Lance? Imagine Lance changing it every once in a while.

As roommates, Dot might notice something special when Lance leaves his cloak on his bed one day

Lance and Dot buy back to school products for Anna

As a newly enrolled student of Easton Academy, it’s necessary to buy new things to get ready for this brand new school life.

After no one else being willing to go, Lance drags Dot along with him with the promise of treating him to something nice

It turns into a shopping date

Future AU :they get married

They get married and boom Ira kreuz

TBC

*funny thing is that I’ve written the start to some of these already, I’ve just never gotten around to finishing them…

[scarsnfevers]

To the Stars — Hyunjin pt. 3

pairing; hwang hyunjin x female reader, (mentions of other members)

genre; titanic!au, romance, fluff, angst, tragedy

summary; the most famous and youngest violinist of her time and a young artist of the lower class on board of the Ship of Dreams? Pathetic, yes, and yet opposites seem to attract.

parts; Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 soon

warnings; mature content, mature language, cursing, tw!death, drinking alcohol (only a little bit), a little bit of smut, smoking (might add more warnings later)

word count; 2,6k (2,669)

taglist; @hyunskizz, @daiyoon

authors note; So I edited this in hurry and it's already late af. I might re-edit this part tomorrow, 'cause I'm half asleep while writing this right now. So please have some mercy with me.

!minors do not interact!

"And you know what you're doing?" I stood on a small pedestal while Jisung measured me from head to toe. "Are you still asking?" He looked up at me as he noted my leg length. "You will be the star of the evening. You can count on that." He gave me a confident smile. My arms crossed uncertainly. I knew it was quite a hassle. And to do it in such a short time was almost impossible. "Ji, you don't have to-", "No back talk. I offered it to you, so let's do it Y/n." he interrupted me. My eyes rested on him, perplexed, but I finally gave in. "All right." I agreed and got off the platform to slip back into my dress. If I hadn't been friends with Jisung for so long, I certainly wouldn't have done something like that. Which friends have seen each other in underwear? Probably the fewest. "I'm already nervous." I sat down on the sofa in his suite and looked at him. "Kim Seungmin asking me to play here is nice and..." I paused to find the right expression to reflect my feelings. "Overwhelming?" Jisung's eyes were fixed on his notebook as he helped me along. I nodded and made myself comfortable on the sofa. "I get stage fright every time I have to play somewhere." I explained and looked over at him. "Even if it were you or Felix. The presence of others always makes me nervous." I confessed with a sigh. Jisung now looked up. His eyes met mine. "You know Y/n." He started. There was something very soothing in his voice. "No matter what you do, you have always mastered it. There is no point in running away from something. Neither from situations, feelings or people."

Silence fell between us as my friend's words rolled through my head. Earlier we were sitting in a crowded ambiance with an incredible number of influential people and now that we were alone we were able to express what we felt. And for that, I appreciated Jisung so much. He understood me and my feelings the best, probably even better than Felix. Because he knew what it was like to be locked up like a bird in a golden cage. I bit my lower lip and finally replied, "I wish I could run away from all of this. My life, my commitments." I've had this wish for some years. And ever since I became so famous, this desire grew day by day. I sighed and tilted my head back to pause for a moment. I heard Jisung get up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward a closet, as he took something out of it. Glasses rattled, and someone opened a bottle. I sat up and looked at Jisung as he stood in front of me and offered me a glass. "So this is supposed to be the solution?" I frowned but took the glass. I immediately smelled the whiskey that he had poured for both of us. "Only for today." He sat down in a chair across from me and sipped at his glass. "Felix will be there soon. I called him over because I thought you might need a distraction."

And Jisung was more than right about that. I thought back to my mother's enthusiastic face as I told her about what had happened in the dining room a few hours ago. I had seldom seen her so happy. My gaze slid to the glass in my hands "That's right." I affirmed Ji's statement before feeling the familiar burning sensation in my throat as I took a sip of the whiskey. I heard a knock on the door. Jisung rose to let Felix in. A smile tugged at my lips as my childhood friend joined us. "So you've already started without me? Th, outrageous." Felix sat down with me on the sofa while Jisung also poured him a glass of whiskey. I sat up so I could see both of them. "You're just in time." I remarked with a smile with the glass in my hand. Felix gave me a grin, "Okay? So the wine wasn't enough before?" His insinuation made me blush for a moment before clearing my throat. "The wine was just the beginning." I countered, even if I wasn't so sure about my own words. He wasn't the type who liked to drink or often, especially not in such a situation. But I knew that Felix and Jisung would take care of me. "Only the beginning?" Felix laughed.

"So we have to carry you to bed later Y/n?" I had to giggle "Maybe?" I cocked my head before taking another sip from my glass. "It's a good thing we're both strong enough." Jisung intervened, having returned to his old seat. "Pft." I commented amusedly. "As if that were such an act."

The glasses emptied faster than expected while the three of us philosophized about a lot, laughed and for a moment could forget everything around us. Those moments were rare because we all had our commitments and rarely got together. It was a change that I more than welcomed. But gradually I felt a slight dizziness, which worsened my vision. I leaned back and looked at my friends a bit lost in thought. I slowly waved the whiskey glass in my hand. Felix noticed my absence and brought me back to reality pretty quickly. "Hey, Y/n? What are you thinking about?" I blinked and met his gaze. I hadn't thought of anything, which amazed me. "I'm sure she imagined both of us naked." Jisung giggled. An indignant gasp escaped my mouth all of a sudden, "Hey! As if I didn't know that!" I started to grin when I saw Ji's stunned expression on my counterattack. Felix also had to smile.

We had completely lost track of time. It was well past midnight and after a few more drinks I felt my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Felix put his glass on the table in front of him and turned to me, "Would you like me to accompany you to your room?" He noticed that I had not participated too actively in the conversation. I looked up at him and nodded slowly "Yeah, that sounds good." I whispered to myself, more or less already in dreamland. The young man rose and held out his hand to me. I grabbed it somewhat awkwardly and got up unsteadily. "Bye Ji." I waved to my other friend, who said goodbye with a smile. I was glad it wasn't far from my room.

Felix opened the door before we stumbled into my suite. "Y/n, you shouldn't drink so much." He straightened me up to look me straight in the eyes. My forehead wrinkled slightly as Felix looked at me. I made a face, but I knew he was right. "I know." I replied, swaying from one leg to the other. Tiredness made me close my eyes again. "I'm going to bed." I mumbled and then looked at Felix. "Thanks for accompanying me." The drunkest smile he'd ever seen graced my lips. Felix smiled and took me to my bed "Sleep tight Y/n." I felt the soft pillow on my face and a warm blanket over my body. "Hmmm" I heard footsteps walking away, and the click of a light switch, before darkness began to spread around me.

___

The feeling of nausea and a slight headache made it difficult for me to get out of bed the following morning. In my morning dress, I sat on my room's private terrace while the servants provided me with some tea and food for breakfast. Not keen on having more drama in the dining room, I decided to stay in my suite. So I could at least escape my mother for a while. I sipped the tea which tasted actually good and relieved my stomach cramps. It wasn't just the slight hangover that caused this, but also the nervousness. Tonight I would play after Kim Seungmin's speech. Although I had played in front of more people, I couldn't contain my excitement. A soft sigh escaped my lungs as I sipped my tea and watched the people on the lower decks. So many people. Women, children, old and young. I wondered where these people from the other classes were housed. How did they fare? I put my cup back on the table before getting up.

I wanted to find out, to find out how other people lived who weren't born with a golden spoon in their mouths. I threw a silk cloak over my dress, slipped into other shoes, and left without telling the servants what I was about to do. Otherwise, they would tell my mother about it. I could more than imagine that she would be beside herself.

But I didn't care.

I stepped onto the lower deck of the Titanic, which was intended for the second and third class on board. Immediately I noticed that this deck was much busier. I saw children playing, young women gossiping and laughing, and some older men sharing their life stories while others enjoyed the view and the sun. I felt comfortable right away, even though I stood out like a sore thumb. My clothes screamed that I didn't belong there and yet everyone was so friendly and always greeted me with a smile as if nobody cared that I was there. I also treated people with the same kindness they showed me, even though I wasn't 'one of them'. And for the first time, I felt something like freedom.

"Miss you look beautiful!" Being so lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed a young girl tugging at my coat to get my attention. I blinked in surprise, a little overwhelmed. "Oh thank you." I looked down at her and gave her a gentle smile as the girl eyed me up. "Where did you get that? It looks really expensive." She remarked, holding the silk in her hands in fascination. I paused for a moment and was about to answer her when a middle-aged man joined the conversation, "Olivia!" His voice sounded horrified as he picked up the child. He was probably the father of that kid. "Sorry Miss, that wasn't meant to disturb you." He then spoke and gave me an apologetic look that was filled with regret. I blinked in disarray, not realizing that people in the lower classes held either awe or resentment toward the rich. In this case, it was probably awe. And yet I didn't quite understand what that was supposed to mean. "It's okay." I finally replied before looking at the girl who was looking at me with wide eyes. She probably realized now what she had done. She stared at me in horror, almost pushing back with fear. I had never seen such a facial expression before. Fear and Loathing. And that's just because I was someone who had a better life and could do something to them if they said something wrong.

"The silk comes from a distant land." I finally said to the girl. "They say you have to sail around the world to get to this country." The last thing I wanted was for anyone to be afraid of me. Especially a little girl. I took off my coat before handing the child to the father's arms. "It's the softest thing you can imagine." I smiled. My gesture came as a surprise, I could see that clearly on the father's face, but my focus was on that little girl. "Keep it. It sure suits you beautifully." I smiled while the child took the thin silk coat. A smile tugged at her lips while her eyes twinkled like thousands of stars in the night sky. "Thank you, Miss." She finally looked up at me. I couldn't help but smile back at her before Olivia and her father wished me a safe journey and said goodbye.

But my well-intentioned gesture had not gone unnoticed.

My path finally led me further across the deck to some benches that stood at the front of the ship. Slightly exhausted, I sat down and leaned against a cold wall of steel behind me. Although I felt a bit better after this little walk, I could feel the headache making its way back. And having someone around me smoking didn't make my situation any easier. It was probably the best solution to go back to the room and get some rest before the hustle and bustle of tonight started.

___

"If you keep scrounging like this, my cigarettes will be gone in no time." Hyunjin sighed, just handing his box to Minho and Jeongin. "Don't worry, I'll get you new ones in New York," Minho said as the smoke began to rise in the air while the three young men stood at the railing and watched what was going on around them. Hyunjin just grimaced and left Minho's answer uncommented before his gaze wandered and he began to look at the people. The young man had noticed how many families were on board the ship. They all probably hoped for a start to a better life as soon as they got off the Titanic.

Who wouldn't?

Hyunjin puffed on his cigarette before noticing a little girl being carried across the deck on his father's shoulders. He probably wouldn't have noticed this if the girl wasn't wearing a much too-large and yet very conspicuous silk coat, which was dyed in a beautiful dark blue. The girl laughed and her father seemed to share the child's joy. He blinked slowly and dragged on his cigarette, which was almost ending. Where do you think the girl got this coat from? He would have asked her about it, but the child and its father had already disappeared from his field of vision. So he turned his attention to other things. Hyunjin always had a pen and paper with him, which he used to draw certain scenes that were stuck in his head or he perceived right in front of him. He decided to look around the deck by himself. His steps led him toward the bow of the ship, where to his surprise there were fewer people. Hyunjin almost turned back to go back, because drawing sailors wasn't very exciting, but at that moment, dark blue fabric and a hint of silk caught his eye, which made him pause. It was the same color as the cloak the girl had worn before. And now it dawned on him where this coat came from.

It was the young woman he had spotted yesterday on the first-class deck. So she had given the coat to the girl? Hyunjin eyed her suspiciously, not knowing why someone like that would do anything like that. And yet something told him that it had to be a heartfelt gesture. This was something he had to capture. He wanted to frame that moment of the young first-class woman without her coat just sitting there on the lower class's deck as people passed her as if she weren't even there.

And even though it was just a sketch, it reflected exactly what Hyunjin had hoped for.

He looked at his work with satisfaction before looking up again after a while. To his surprise, the young woman on the bench had disappeared. She must have left when Hyunjin concentrated on the final details of the drawing. And somehow he regretted it. Hyunjin would have liked to watch her from afar a little longer. Because it seemed as if she had something about her that magically attracted him. Even if he didn't know her. She was a distant dream that he would probably never dream. She seemed to embody chaos, which he called art. Something fragile and beautiful at the same time.

What would he give to know her name...

[haradasaya]

The Swan Princess > Chapter 4

Sorry for the long break between chapters, I moved apartments! Now that I'm in and settled, hopefully I'll be able to get the rest of the chapters up before the holidays! <3 CW: Fem!Lovely, Fem!ListenerCharacter, talk of previous abuse, magical exploitation, depictions of magical violence, abandonment, Adam Redacted who deserves his own warning lol

“So, my love. What do you want to know first?” 

Vincent laughed, as if the answer to that question wasn’t obvious. “Let’s start with, what the hell happened? How are you here?”

The princess played with the hem of her dress. “Well, it’s all a little hazy, even in my memory. But I remember seeing you off that day, and wishing we didn’t have to part for the summer…”

“Do I really have to go? I’ll be back again at the end of summer for the masque, why can’t I just stay until then?”

Vincent smiled, kissing along her cheek, over her neck and finally to her lips. “My love, you may be my queen, but you do have your own kingdom to rule. You know that you must attend to your duties first.”

Lovely pouted, pressing her bottom lip out as far as she could. “I know.”

Vincent smiled again, taking her cheeks between his hands. “We’ll be back together before you know it. You’ll have my necklace, and I promise I’ll write you letters every single day, and I’ll send all my love in them so that you never have to feel apart from me.”

Lovely’s lips curled in the corners, pleased with that answer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Always his immediate answer.

“I remember complimenting your dress.” Vincent said, recalling the events of a day he’d told himself to never remember. “You said you’d made it yourself.”

Lovely nodded. “I indeed had. Fat lot of good it’s done for me now.”

Vincent chuckled. She looked so beautiful in the moonlight. Oh how he’d missed her. “Go on, please, tell me what happened next.”

Lovely nodded. “I got into my carriage and we set off for the border…”

“Coach?” Lovely called to the driver. “Is there any way that we can slow down just a bit when we reach the crest of the mountain? I’d like to take one final look over the valley once we’re up high enough.”

The coachman, a rather plump man with a white mustache and a kind face, nodded his head gracefully. “Of course, madame. I will let you know once we’ve arrived.”

Lovely sat back against the cushion of the carriage. It was going to be a long ride back to her castle, and without anyone to keep her company—besides the coach and the army of soldiers on either end of her wagon—she was going to become dreadfully bored. Vincent had sent her with a parcel of his creation, full of snacks and treats, a pair of fantasy books he’d stolen from the castle library, and the miniature painting he’d done on a small cut of paper that practically mirrored her real portrait. Vincent was an excellent painter, an excellent pianist and violinist, and an even greater strategist. They were opposites in many ways, as Lovely had always been the better hunter, the better shot, and the one with the cleanest kills. But incidentally, those opposites were also compliments, and where one lacked, the other excelled. In every way, the pair was perfect for each other.

It wasn’t much longer after that that the coachman slowed the horses to a halt, and Lovely was escorted out of her carriage. The knights escorting her stood at attention, watching her make her way to the edge of the cliff, pressing her hands to the wooden railing in place as she stood on her tiptoes to take in the truly magnificent view.

The valley of the Kingdom of Solaire was gorgeous. Mountains loomed in the distance around the kingdom, with majestic waterfalls and meandering rivers weaving towards the coast below. The castle sat directly between the mountains where they’d stopped and the ocean beyond the city, city surrounding the castle in every direction, farmland on the North and East sides stretching up onto the curve of the mountain, and in some places in terraces up the gentle incline. Between the city and the mountain path lay a great forest that Lovely was very familiar with. She glanced back up at the castle, noting its design. The stonework was a beautiful shade of beige, the crest of the Solaire Kingdom printed into every flag atop every spire, and in various places etched within the stone walls. Lovely looked with pride over the city, taking it all in for one final time before having to return home. This was going to be her kingdom someday, her crown to wear with her love by her side. And she was happy.

“When I got back into my carriage, I had no idea things were about to go terribly wrong.” She spoke, her voice sullen. “Almost immediately after we started moving again, the coach stopped once more, and I could hear horses whinnying, and the knights yelling. I tried to ask the coach what was happening, but he didn’t say anything.”

“Coachman! What’s happening? Are you alright? Please sir, what’s going on–”

Lovely screamed as the coach rocked: not enough to topple it, but enough to lift one side clean off the ground. Lovely threw herself towards the toppling side in an attempt to balance the weight, but it was pointless. She realized, as the carriage rocked again, further this time than before, that this wasn’t just an earthquake or strong winds, but another force acting with intention to send her and her carriage toppling off the cliff. She still attempted to climb out of the cab, throwing the door open, but simultaneously that same force pushed back into the carriage for a final time, sending the carriage toppling into its side. Lovely fell against the inside of the wall of the coach, and only a second passed before she realized that the carriage was still moving, now tipping upside down as it began its tumble over the edge of the cliff. She tried to cling to the walls, the benches, anything that would stop her fall.  But nothing helped her, and she collided with wall after wall as she fell.

“This is where things start to get hazy. I remember falling, hitting my head and body on every possible surface as I rolled inside the carriage. And then I think I remember seeing someone…? I’m not sure, but I remember feeling held, like someone had placed a protective bubble around me—and though I was barely lucid, I remember when the cart stopped rolling. We ended up near a home—I remember that because I could see it through a crack in the paneling.”

Vincent was honed into the story, eyes locked on her as she spoke. “And then what happened?”

Lovely looked out towards the lake, gaze far away. “I can’t remember all the details, but eventually I passed out. It felt like I was being carried away at some point, but I was in too much pain to open my eyes to see who it was that was holding me.” She turned back to face him. “When I woke up, I was here, at the shore of this lake.”

Lovely woke to the sound of waves, feeling instantly the gritty sand beneath her hands and cheek. Her eyes slowly cracked open, and she tried to sit up, taking in the unfamiliar forest around her. It was nearing sunset, the land around her basked in golden light and soft, tilted shadows. She looked down at herself, seeing the dark bruises and small abrasions on her skin, and then grabbed her head in her hands when hot pain streaked through it: a concussion, surely. This wasn’t happening. Surely she was just asleep in the carriage, and all this had been a bad dream, right?

Lovely tried to calm her heart. “Okay, walk yourself through this,” she thought to herself, “Surely there’s an explanation for all of this.”

She recalled the events of the day, leaving Vincent at the castle, beginning the trek back to her homeland, and then…

…her carriage had been pushed down a cliff. Oh Goddess, how had that even happened? Surely no one man could have done that? There were hundreds of guards with her caravan, they would have captured a single perpetrator. But then… it had been entirely too quiet for a group, so what could have caused her carriage to tip like that?

She remembered the way that the coachman hadn’t responded to her questions. Had he… died? What happened to all the guards?

That hot pain flashed through her head again, and she rested her face in her hands, knees pressed to her chest. She had to stay calm. She needed to get back to familiar territory. She couldn’t open her eyes right this moment, but as soon as she could, she’d collect herself, and then she’d figure out a plan. She was a good hunter, she knew how to read the forest. She’d be able to make it out of here. If only this pain in her head would stop—

“My my, you certainly look worse for wear. Are you alright, madam?”

Lovely’s eyes shot open, shocked and surprised and scared to see someone standing before her. Had he been there all along? That hot pain flashed through her head again, and she closed her eyes once more, returning her head to her knees to remove the light from in front of her eyelids. She didn’t like feeling like that, didn’t like not being able to see him and assess him for danger, but the throbbing in her head was unbearable with her eyes open, so she’d have to take her chances.

“I’ve had worse.” She said, an obvious lie. She was in bad shape. If she couldn’t find her way out of here, she’d die.

She could hear the man before her take a few steps closer. “If I may miss, I know a bit of healing magic. I could tend to your wounds, if you’d like.”

Something didn’t feel right about all of this. She hated that she couldn’t manage to keep her eyes open to watch him as he spoke. She felt like she’d be able to get a better read on him if she were able to see him as he talked. Perhaps it wasn’t a great idea, but she didn’t feel like she had much choice. If he could help her head, at least, she’d feel a lot better, and a lot more aware of her surroundings.

“So I agreed. I decided to take my chances, and thanked him for offering to help me.” Lovely scoffed then. “What a fool I’d been to trust him.”

“Trust who? Who was the man?”

Her entire demeanor shifted then, both defensive and angry and somehow still more sorrowful than cross.

“Give me your hand, madam. I’ll help you to stand.” He said suavely, in that tone that stirred the uncanny feeling in your heart of a hidden danger. Each second, Lovely was becoming more and more frightened, afraid that this stranger had ill intentions with her, everything about his behavior and demeanor darkening.

The princess hesitantly gave him her hand, and she managed to force her eyes open by the time they were standing face to face. He seemed incredibly familiar, though where she recognized him from was a mystery. His dark hair covered most of his face, flowing in eerie strands over his shoulders and back that resembled tendrils of shadows. His clothes were mostly black, tiny hints of gold on little accent pieces of what was clearly a mage’s uniform. The smile on his face was barely human, and she realized too late that his eyes were pitch black.

“Hello, Princess.”

Before she could stop him, his magic poured from his hands, encircling her, filling her throat and nose and eyes, red and black and blue stealing the last bit of clarity from her mind. The magic lifted her off the ground, its sheer power overwhelming any other force keeping her there. Through the whirring fog, she could hear the man laughing, and when she caught sight of him, she knew exactly who he was. She knew who had done this to her, and how.

“Adam. Ex-Mage Magistus turned dark sorcerer.”

“Adam!?” Vincent exclaimed so loudly, creatures of all kinds went scampering away into the dark woods. Lovely had to remind him that he needed to keep his voice down or they ran the risk of being found. He apologized, brain clearly working through a million different thoughts.

“I just don’t understand; what was Adam doing there that day? What did he want with you?”

“That’s the next part, let me explain.” She said, and Vincent settled in to let her continue. “As I hung there, helpless against his power, I heard his incantation.”

“Rage of Telmnaresh, heed my call—turn this woman into my doll!”

The magic surrounding Lovely flared, the bright lights blinding her yet again—except this time, it was not simply the blues and reds of Adam’s magic. This time, a yellow white light radiated outward, dispelling some of the smoke that swirled around her. Lovely looked down towards the source of the light, head splitting at the sight, realizing that it was the necklace that Vincent had given her that was dispelling the dark magic. She hadn’t known that the stone within the pendant contained magical qualities, let alone enough power to dispel magic from such a powerful mage! Lovely’s hope bloomed within her chest, and the light flared brighter around her. All seemed hopeful for those few seconds.

“How are you doing that!?” Adam roared, his expression a hard line of fury as he poured more magic into the spell. She didn’t know, but she hoped that it would be enough to—

“Alright Princess, I concede.”

Adam’s hands fell, and with it so did the magic. Lovely dropped to the ground, feet caving out and falling to her knees. Adam sauntered up to her, pacing around her as she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at his twisted expression, annoyance plastered all over the front of it.

“Of course you have a magical amulet, because of course you do. What in Hell’s fury am I supposed to do with you now?”

Lovely was finally able to inhale fully, noting that the pain in her head had gone away a fraction now. Had her amulet done that? “What do you want with me? Why were you trying to ‘make me your puppet’?”

Adam turned away, no intention of answering her question. 

“If my country has wronged you somehow, allow me the opportunity to make it right. There is no need for confrontation–”

Adam rounded on her. “This is not about you! Oh all you princesses thinking the whole damn world revolves around them. Shut up! I can’t think with your incessant blathering.”

Lovely’s jaw dropped. Had he just told her to shut up? “Excuse me, you just made an attempt on my life. You will answer me when I speak to you.”

“I didn’t make an attempt on your life, you nitwit. You would have lived even if my spell had been successful.”

“Oh wonderful. A slave puppet to an evil sorcerer, even better!”

Adam turned away from her, muttering to himself. Lovely wasn’t exactly sure what to do now. Did she try to run away? She couldn’t stay there, she didn’t know what the crazed mage would do. She had no idea if her amulet would be able to stop any other spells. It didn’t matter though, because before she had even taken a single step, he faced her yet again.

“Alright! Fine, I’ll admit it: my plan to trap you has failed. But don’t think I’m letting you get away princess. Since I can’t have you as my marionette, I’ll make you an offer instead. All that I wanted from you was your kingdom. If you give it to me, surrendering your crown and your right to rule it, I will let you live. Seems like a fair deal, no?”

Of all the things that Adam could have asked for, she hadn’t expected an answer that incredulous. Her kingdom? Like hell she’d give that up, least of all to Adam.

“What did you tell him?” Vincent asked smugly, as if he knew that she’d said something creative in reply.

She had. “I told him exactly what I thought about that idea.”

“Princess, what a foul mouth you have. Surely you don’t rule your kingdom with such crude vernacular.”

“You can’t hurt me, Adam. My amulet will protect me from your dark magic. Now if you don’t excuse me, I have a kingdom to return to.” It was a risky bluff, as she didn’t truly know if her amulet would protect her, but she had no other choice. She had to try to get away, while she still had the chance to do so.

Adam stepped in front of her, hand raised at the ready to use more magic if necessary. “I’m afraid you’ll not get away from me that easily. You’re not leaving this forest until I get what I want.”

Lovely scoffed. “You’ll never get my kingdom from me. Something that ludacris will only happen when pigs fly.”

Adam’s black eyes lit up for a moment, like a horrifying idea came into his mind. “When pigs fly—my, what a lovely idea.” 

Lovely scrunched her eyebrows, suddenly worried at what he was going to say. 

“If I can’t make you into my puppet, I’ll simply have to force you into accepting my deal.”

Lovely stepped back, ready to make a run for it when Adam’s magic shot from his hands and grasped her around the waist. “I’ll make you fly my dear, just watch!”

The smoke filled her lungs once more, and within moments, she lost all feeling in her toes, up to her legs and hips, then up her torso and arms, until the swirling magic tingled within her whole being. She could feel her body changing slowly, and she watched in horror as her feet shrunk and became webbed, her body growing feathers and her arms becoming wings, and finally, her neck elongating and her mouth becoming a bill. Within moments, the magic fell away, and she was a simple swan floating on the lake. 

She tried to scream, but all that came from her new mouth were the squawks of the fowl she found herself trapped inside of. Adam stared at her, pleased smirk twisting his lips. “Excellent. Now with that out of the way, I’ll be taking this—”

He reached for the pendant still around Lovely’s neck, having shrunk to match the neck of the animal wearing it, but when he got close, his hand began to singe just from reaching towards it. It appeared to reject his very being from coming close, he couldn’t even touch the chain of it without flinching away. Lovely was relieved that her one method of protection from him wouldn't be taken so easily, though she still didn’t know how to react to the spell he’d placed on her.

“Damn it! Even after all this, I still can’t take the damn thing off you!”

It was almost satisfying to watch him throw a tantrum, but it would have been more satisfying if she wasn’t floating on a lake right now, trapped inside the body of a bird.

“Come on little princess, it’s not like you can stay like that forever. You’ll want to return to your human form eventually, right? You’ll die a swan if you don’t comply with my demands.”

To that, Lovely simply kicked her feet and turned her entire body around, floating away from him and further into the lake. “Hey! Get back here you— you spoiled princess!”

It was then that the final rays of sunlight faded over the edge of the valley, plunging the whole valley into shadow, and stealing the light over the water where Lovely floated. As it vanished, the stone in her amulet began to glow yet again, and before she knew it, the same magic that had twisted her body into a swan had transformed her into a human yet again.

“Son of a–” Was all Lovely heard before falling underneath the water, having been far enough into the water that she could not touch when she fell in, no longer the small, buoyant animal she had been a moment ago. When she was finally able to drag herself and her soggy gown onto land, Adam stood there, his eyebrows and lips twisted in frustration. He turned toward her then, but not directly at her—rather at her amulet. He was muttering to himself, something about her necklace, and she guessed that it truly was the one thing that was keeping her alive right now.

“So, since your stupid magic trick failed, can I leave now? This has truly gone on for far too long, Adam.”

He sneered up at her. “Of course you can’t leave! I’m not done with you, princess. Did you really think the curse was that simple to break?”

Lovely inhaled. “Curse?”

“Oh yes,” he crooned, “Did you really think this was nothing but a simple spell meant to transform you once as my method of convincing? No, little one, that was a curse, and one of my most powerful to date.”

Lovely’s expression turned horrified as she realized what he was saying. 

“Your magic stone may have saved you from being a swan now, but it won't be that way forever. When the sun rises in the morning, you will be a swan once more, I can assure you.”

Lovely scoffed. “You’re not serious? You truly expect me to believe that? After all that I’ve managed to stop you from doing so far, do you really think that I believe that I won’t be able to get away this time?”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you could go, see what happens to you when my curse catches up to you.” His tone goes darker as he says his next words. “See how soon you die when you’re not here, on this lake, to make sure that transformation doesn’t kill you.”

Lovely turned to him, ready to give him another snide remark, but he cut her off. “But by all means, try and leave this valley. The easiest way out is right over there.”

Lovely looked to where he was pointing, and it did look like the simplest way out of the valley. But her curiosity and terror peaked at his words. Would she really die if she wasn’t at the lake when the sun rose?

“Oh, so you’re not leaving then? Shame, that was likely your only chance at escape.” Adam turned quickly, and began to walk away. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then, princess. We’ll see who’s right then, hm?”

“It turns out he was right,” Lovely said slowly, tracing the lines of Vincent’s hands, “I stayed through the night to see if his theory was correct, and it turns out that if I don’t stand in the water when the transformation happens, I literally start to suffocate. That morning, I had desperately hoped that he was wrong, and that nothing would happen. But then I started to—what felt like at least—literally die. And I haven’t dared leave the valley since.”

“How do you know that it wasn’t Adam’s magic harming you during that time? What if he was just tricking you into thinking that it was the curse rather than him?”

Lovely gave him a look. “I’d seen Adam’s magic in action enough times before to know what it looked like. This was different, this was his curse, I know it.”

Vincent tried to think through it, but Lovely had already thought through all the possibilities. “I wasn’t going to test it again, even another night when I was sure he wasn’t around. I wasn’t willing to die after all that I had been through to a damn swan curse.”

Vincent chuckled. “Of course you weren’t. You’re too strong to go out like that.”

Lovely smiled, proud of his confidence in her. “And I never gave up hope that you’d come to find me. I prayed every day that somehow, some way, you’d find your way here, and take me home from this nightmare.”

Vincent’s smile turned sad for a moment. “I will, Lovely. I will find a way to get you out of his grasp. But we can’t do it tonight, okay? Too much time has passed since the moon has risen, and if you believe that you must be here when day breaks, then I will not force you to leave. I can return tomorrow, right as the sun goes down, and then I can steal you away—”

Lovely shook her head. “Adam might be here tomorrow. You’ll have to wait for a signal of some kind to show that it’s safe for you to enter the valley.”

Vincent huffed. “And what if he doesn’t show? What if he takes too much time? What if—”

“Vincent, my darling, it will be alright. We just need to make a plan, okay?”

The prince huffed, pouting. “You’re right. So then, what should we do?”

Lovely thought for a moment. “I’m not sure that I know of a way to stop the curse. The only way that I know would work is if Adam were somehow to die. He’s mentioned once before that only death is powerful enough to stop his dark magic.”

Vincent smiled for a moment. “Are you sure that true love’s kiss wont work? It works in fairytales…”

He reached in for his Lovely, pulling her face into his so that he could plant a kiss on her lips. When she squirmed out of his grip, teasing him, he simply peppered kisses all over her face and hands as he could reach.

“Vincent!” She whisper yelled at him, “stop it, please!” But she was smiling all the while, having missed his little kisses and games.

After the moment had ended, the two went back to pondering their plan to get Lovely free. “We must find a way to slay him—but how? When he is here, in the Enchanted Valley, his power is strong. He is able to use nature and the magic of the valley to strengthen his spells. I think that’s why my curse is tied to the water of the lake and why I must be on it when I transform.” “So we need to get him out of the valley, got it. But how do we lure him out of the valley with enough time to ensure that we can break the curse from you?”

She twisted her lips in thought. “My best guess would be that he’d chase me if he found out that I was gone. He wants to use me to control our two kingdoms, so if he doesn’t have me then I’m guessing he’d try and take me back before I could get away.”

Vincent nodded, formulating a plan already in his mind. It all seemed to click into place when his eyes lit up with realization. “I’ve got it! We’ll use the ball as our excuse!”

“The ball?” She asked, unaware of what he was talking about.

“My father is hosting a ball in two days' time. He told me that I had to choose a bride from the guests invited, but now I don’t have to! Because we’re going to get you home by then.”

Lovely tilted her head, unsure of how this fit into their plan. Vincent continued quickly. “We’ll use the ball as our excuse to draw Adam out of the Enchanted Valley. The ball always lasts through the night, so that way we can come get you once you’ve turned back into a human. Then we’ll bring you back to the castle, where Adam will follow, and we can make our move then.”

Lovely listened intently to his plan, thinking through each step and seeing if it worked.

“I can’t think of a single reason Adam wouldn’t follow me to the castle if he knew I had been taken there. He might try to cause a scene to take me back if he knows, especially if he thinks he has time to whisk me back here before the sun rises.”

“So then we’ll have until then to make our move. And if he never shows, at worst we can simply return here before dawn so that you may live to see another day—be it a swan if necessary.”

Lovely smiled softly, but there was a pain there. She didn’t want that for herself. She wanted to be freed from this curse; she wanted to go home, to be with her Prince once more. Vincent wanted that too, only being able to be here with her, hidden away in a hollowed tree by an enchanted lake in the middle of the forest wasn't the life he’d imagined for them when he asked her to be his. He wanted her to be home, safe, with him.

“Wait, I almost forgot!”

Vincent stood, offering Lovely his hand as he did. “I have something for you.”

Lovely smiled then, a real smile, the one that she always gave him when she was catching on to his antics. “What?” She said in a low tone, full of curiosity but still playful hesitation.

“Just follow me, you’ll like it, I promise.”

“I can’t leave the forest for long, the sun will come up soon.”

Vincent brought her hand up to his lips, and kissed the back of it, keeping eye contact. “We aren’t leaving the forest, don’t worry. It’s something I have in the satchel of my horse.”

“Wait, you brought Valor too? Where? I want to see him! I’ve missed him.”

Vincent laughed then, leading her through the woods and to the slope where his horse was tied up. “He’s not the only one I brought. Sam’s here too, though I have no idea where he is.”

“Sam’s here too? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vincent turned to look at her. “I was a little distracted, if you didn’t remember.”

“Well, where is he?” She scoffed. “I missed him too.”

Vincent looked up the valley to where they were headed. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if I’m mistaken or not, but it appears that his horse is gone too.”

Lovely looked up to where Vincent’s gaze was, and indeed could only see one horse: Vincent’s horse, Valor, who he had named as a child and was teased about by Lovely and Sam every day since. 

“Perhaps he lost you and returned to the city?” She offered, hiking up her skirts to make the trek up the incline.

“It’s possible,” he said, helping her over a boulder protruding from the hill, “but I didn’t think he’d just leave if he returned here and saw my horse here and not me. I thought he’d wait here. I would have loved to bring you back to him had he been here.”

Lovely shrugged, panting from the trek. “There is still time, my love.”

Those six words flooded Vincent’s heart with hope, and love. “Yes, there is.”

When the two finally reached his horse, Vincent and Lovely gathered their breath for a moment, before he reached into his pouch and pulled out something wrapped in cloth.

“What is it?” Lovely asked eagerly, hoping it was food, something sweet from the bakery. At this point, she’d take any kind of food, as she had grown tired of eating small fish and whatever berries or nuts she could find in the woods. There was an apple tree deep within the woods, almost near the edge of the valley, but after a year of only apples, she craved the taste of something else, the tartness of a strawberry, or the citrus of an orange.

“This was supposed to be a bribe to get Sam to leave his apothecary, but I ended up not needing it. Now it’s yours.”

Vincent unwrapped the sweet bread he’d brought, and Lovely couldn’t stop her mouth from watering instantly. The bread was the perfect golden color, with the small flower design baked into the crust. It had gotten a little smashed from being inside Vincent’s bag for so long, but at that moment, Lovely could not have cared less. It was food��real human food—and it was her favorite.

“Wait, I have the glaze here too.”

He reached back into his bag and pulled out a small jar of gold liquid, popping off the lid and scooping some of the glaze onto the bread. Lovely could have cried in that moment. “Vincent Solaire, Prince of the Kingdom of Solaire, I love you so much.”

Vincent let out a hearty chuckle. “I love you too, my Lovely princess. Now here, eat. I can see the hunger in your eyes.”

He tore a piece off for her, and she dug in, happier than he’d seen her since he discovered her tonight. Vincent had a few small bites, but he wanted Lovely to partake in the sweet that she’d missed out on for a year.

When she was finished, the two sat on the edge of the cliff for a while content to simply be held by the other. Lovely had missed Vincent’s laugh, and he had missed her kisses, and her smile. Eventually, the first rays of the sun began to lighten up the sky, and they knew that they must depart.

Vincent offered to escort her back down the cliff, and she accepted, glad to have just a few more minutes with him before returning to her cursed form. They made it back to the edge of the water just as light peeked over the edge and into the valley. They only had a few remaining minutes before she would change. He kissed her as many times as he could, before she pushed him away with a smile to step into the water. She urged him to leave before she changed, claiming it was embarrassing and that she didn’t want him to see. So he set off back up the hill toward his horse, but was unable to keep his eyes off her as the sunlight finally hit the water, and the magic that he’d seen transform her the first time take over her form again—and this time, instead of becoming the woman he loved, she became the beautiful swan that he’d hunted the day before.

He watched her float off into the lake for a long moment, marveling at all that had happened, before setting off towards his castle. He would need to tell Sam everything as soon as possible—if only he knew where he’d gone…

[asiandra-dash]

Do you have any headcanons about Genshin characters with instruments or just music in general?

↪ Characters: Alhaitham, Ayaka, Ayato, Childe, Kazuha

↪ Warnings: None,,, Except swearing and maybe a bit of violence (Childe) if those count lol

↪ Notes: Ohoho anon as a violinist, person who keeps saying they can't sing but everyone else says they can, and slaps on music the second they wake up, you bet I have some. I have many many MANY more hcs with more Genshin characters but I don't wanna make this too long even though it's pretty long already so I'm just keeping this to five characters for now but feel free to send another ask about this :>

Kazuha

He plays the guitar

But he plays the flute too

A flute is more portable than a guitar lol

The leaf is a substitute when he doesn't have his flute

He usually borrows a guitar if he wants to play it

If he's wandering and the region he's in happens to have something going on with a little bit of music he might stop by

It's nice to know about the local music, maybe he could try and play it a bit or write a haiku about it

He's not really good at singing

But his humming is quite soothing and comforting

Sometimes he'll find himself humming a small tune he heard or made up while traveling

Alhaitham

He doesn't care

Mostly

He won't admit that some of it sounds good

Kaveh annoys him about it sir please go get a dose of music

If he wanted to he could try to play something

He's okay at most instruments though he doesn't find much of a reason to play them

He sucks ass at air instruments

He'd touch a piano for the first time and once he figured out the basics he'd ace easy and medium level songs and never touch one again

Kaveh always annoys him about it because he wants to know how he does it

Alhaitham would brush him off he doesn't care let him read and do his job

But Kaveh will not let go of this until he find how how he does it

He can't sing

Not well anyways

Also don't tell anyone but he sometimes plays the cello

Childe

Mmmmmm music is amazing

Especially if it's good music for thinking about murder /hj

No but really he enjoys any music

He is absolutely a violin player

But be careful when he has the bow in his hand

He might stab you with it

Probably replaced his bow a few times doing that lol

Either you DO NOT let him pick up a bow when he's having even a little bit of murderous thoughts or BACK UP WITH PROTECTION

He might stab someone with the bow, you never know, and if it snaps oh boy the splinters...

Stabby stabby stabby

Someone stop him

He will not break the violin though it's hard to find a really good quality instrument

He's trying guitar

He sounds okay but it still sucks

As a person who has literally every Childe cover in their playlist he can absolutely sing

It's SO GOOD SHFSUHFUIOSDJGFIUWABFVJDFIHDGYESBF

Ayato

He's fucking tone deaf

He can't sing or play shit

This part is only here because I thought it would be funny

How nice it would be to hear Ayaka's playing and singing...

BUT in another version where he ISN'T tone deaf

He still doesn't play any instrument

He really likes Ayaka's playing and singing

If she ever says she is bad he will not let her live with that and try and find a way to make her think she's good

Most of the time it works

He prefers humming over singing, especially when he's working

When he sings it's literally the best fucking thing you have ever heard he sounds so perfect

And he'll deny every compliment saying that it's not that good and others can do better

Sir no you sound like a fucking angel shut up

No one not even himself knows how he can sing that well I guess he was just born like that

Ayaka

Absolute opposite of Ayato (The first part)

She got all the music genes

She loves music

She plays quite a few instruments but her favorites are the Koto, Kokyu, and Shamisen

Ayaka can sing

Mostly

Kind of

It's not the best but at least it's passable

She wishes she could sing and/or play for her brother but she can't :(

Even if he couldn't play an instrument anyways why couldn't he at least have not be tone deaf

Anyways in the other one where Ayato is NOT tone deaf

Sometimes Ayato will listen to Ayaka playing or singing when he has the time

Which isn't often considering the loads of work he has

Sometimes she hears her brother humming/singing and wishes she could be as good

Why did he get the good singing genes :( oh well she can play instruments so it's fair enough

She's asked multiple times if he ever has free time if he wanted to sing something while she played but he always finds some kind of excuse to say no

Ayaka has started suspecting that but hey, he's a busy man

And the excuses are mostly true so

[caitimetravels]

she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk. 

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman. 

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!" 

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

————————————————–

as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'" 

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon" 

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

————————————————–

as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan" 

————————————————–

the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait" 

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back. 

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre" 

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?" 

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong" 

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive" 

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?" 

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance. 

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha. 

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

tag list: (if your name is crossed i couldnt tag you) @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic @shawkneecaps @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @velveticxyyy

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’ “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 6: “The Enchanted Violin”

<< Previous Chapter

Artwork by @coatntails on deviantart

“The Enchanted Violin” introduces us to the childhood friendship of Raoul and Christine - but first, we learn that Christine did not continue to triumph at the Opera, but only sang once more in society at the invitation of the Duchess of Zurich and, after that, cancelled everything including a charity concert. She was apparently terrified by her triumph during the gala night, and didn’t “recognize herself” anymore when she sings. Before, she was emotionally distant and indifferent because she had shut everything out so she could cope with the grief of her father’s death. The amount of passion and feeling that Erik’s lessons had to rekindle in her must have felt terrifying and perhaps even painful to her. Plus, baring your heart and soul on stage like she did is, by itself, something that can indeed feel terrifying! In this chapter, we learn that Raoul has indeed been watching her performances at the Opera for some time, but also felt that she seemed indifferent to everything and everyone - until her soul finally came alive again with her gala night performance.

Philippe de Chagny has even tried to further her career with the managers to please his little brother, but Christine does not wish for him to do so. Raoul tries to seek her out, but without success. One morning though, Raoul receives a letter from Christine, assuring him that she has not forgotten the “little boy who fetched her scarf from the sea”, and informing him that she will be going to Perros-Guirec to visit her father’s grave on the anniversary of his death. Perros-Guirec is a seaside village in Brittany, quite far from Paris.

Raoul doesn’t lose time and rushes to the Montparnasse station to follow her, but fails to catch the morning train and has to wait all day for the night train (Raoul tends to have a bit of bad luck following him around).

This chapter also gives us a short biography of Christine Daaé. In the novel - contrary to the musical - she is described as blonde and blue-eyed, slender and somewhat short-sighted, which would presumably give her a bit of a dreamy, unfocused expression if nobody hands her a pair of glasses (I guess Erik wouldn’t mind her short-sightedness either!). She was born in the village of Skotelof near Uppsala in Sweden. Her father (who does not have a name in the novel) sang in the church choir and taught Christine to read music before she could read books. He also had a well-known reputation as the best violinist in Scandinavia, and was often requested to play at social gatherings. Christine’s mother died when she was 6 years old, and her father became a travelling musician and took Christine around the country. They were discovered by Professor Valerius and taken to Götheburg, where Christine received her training. His wife, Mama Valerius, treated Christine like a daughter. When the Valerius family moved to France, Christine and her father accompanied them. Papa Daaé did not adjust well to life in Paris though, and often found solace in his music only, locking himself in his room for hours at a time. The only time of the year he enjoyed was their yearly trip to the seaside town of Perros-Guirec, because the ocean reminded him of his native Sweden. Missing his nomadic lifestyle, he decided to once again to spend some time every year as a travelling musician with Christine - which is how Christine came to meet Raoul, who was then staying with his aunt - the one that kindled his love for the sea. Raoul heard Christine sing and was so utterly captivated by her angel’s voice that he started following her around with his governess. One day, at the bay of Trestraou, the wind was so strong that it blew Christine’s scarf into the sea, and Raoul ran after it fully clothed and rescued it. They became friends that summer and played together often, and Christine’s father also gave him some violin lessons.

Bay of Trestraou, where Raoul rescued Christine’s scarf from the sea (image from france-voyage.com)

Both Raoul and Christine loved listening to ancient tales and legends, especially the ones that Papa Daaé told them. Among those stories is the famous “Little Lotte”, who loved listening to the Angel of Music while she fell asleep. It’s a little funny that while they listen to the story, all Raoul does is look at Christine’s golden hair and blue eyes, imagining her as “Little Lotte”, and Christine’s thoughts are focused on how lucky Little Lotte was to hear the Angel of Music. So Raoul dreams about Christine while Christine dreams about the Angel of Music, which kind of foreshadows the setup of the love triangle in the novel.

To be honest, I can’t really blame Christine for thinking she was indeed hearing the Angel of Music in her dressing-room, since the description given fits Erik perfectly:

“No one ever saw him, but he made himself heard to those predestined to hear him. It often happened when they least expected it, when they were sad and disheartened. Then they suddenly heard heavenly harmonies and a divine voice, and they would remember it all their lives. People visited by the angel were left with a kind of flame burning inside them.”

I guess her father couldn’t really find the Angel of Music in heaven, so he sent her the next best thing that was available… Erik might not have been a heavenly angel, but the effect he had on her amounted to the same that is attributed to the Angel of Music in her father’s stories.

After their parting following the first summer that they spent together, Christine and Raoul saw each other again three years later, when they were “no longer children” - perhaps 13 to 14 years old, which would put their first meeting at about age 10 to 11. Professor Valerius has died in the meantime, and Christine’s father has started suffering from a cough. Raoul and Christine’s meeting is a little awkward this time - both seem to be developing tender feelings for each other, but are also very reserved. Their current relationship has now outgrown the sweet and carefree friendship of childhood. Raoul is quite infatuated with her, but he is also badly affected by his jealousy plus the unresolved issue of a peasant girl like Christine not being a suitable choice as a wife for a Viscount - and Christine being acutely aware of that. So yes - it’s complicated between those two. Afterwards, she tries to forget him and dedicate herself to her career instead. But when her father finally dies, her soul and her voice die with him, and even though her talent is still enough to gain entry into the Paris Conservatory, she cannot not bring any more enthusiasm to her studies, and just goes through the motions to please Mama Valerius.

Christine apparently travelled to Perros by herself, staying at the “Auberge du Soleil Couchant”. Raoul is looking forward to speaking to her alone without interference. Despite having sailed around the world, Leroux describes Raoul as “pure as a virgin” and overwhelmed by his love for Christine, who occupies his every thought - in fact, Raoul seems to obsess over things a lot in the novel, not just about Christine. When he finally meets her as she returns from mass, he jumps straight to the point and tells her that he loves her and cannot live without her - which is unfortunately not “what she wanted to hear”. Their conversation goes totally wrong and as his jealous temper gets the better of him, he behaves terribly and they get into a fight (over Erik, of course) to the point where she runs off and locks herself in her room.

Raoul, saddened by the way his meeting with Christine turned out, wanders off towards the graveyard to pray for Christine’s father, and finally sits down, looking out over the moor where he and Christine used to look for goblins when they were children. He never saw any, while Christine always saw lots despite her lack of proper eyesight - which shows that despite both of them being described as “dreamy”, Christine’s imagination is a lot more lively than Raoul’s. She finally comes out to make another try of confiding the secret of the Angel of Music who speaks to her to Raoul, but when she feels he doesn’t take her seriously and questions her virtue, she storms off again, truly angry this time and refusing to come down for dinner.

At night, about 11:30 pm, she finally sneaks out to visit her father’s grave at the Perros graveyard and meet the “Angel of Music” (aka Erik) there. This is obviously the scene which inspired “Wishing you were somehow here again”, though the original context is a little bit different. Raoul climbs out the window and follows her to the graveyard. Raoul’s account of the graveyard scene is given via a transcript of Raoul’s testimony to Commissary Mifroid a few weeks later, after Christine’s abduction. The use of this “source” is one of the things that have given rise to the theory that this is a “detective novel”, however Leroux uses it more like a historian would use a source - it’s just one of different documents that he uses (or claims to use) to prove that his story is indeed true.

Christine doesn’t notice Raoul following her. Her rendez-vous with the Angel of Music is supposedly taking place at exactly midnight at her father’s grave, so Christine is in a bit of a hurry to get there in time. It is still winter, so the graves are covered in snow and lit by the clear moonlight. Christine, who apparently has nerves of steel since she has no qualms about going to graveyards at midnight and then sitting down calmly next to a pile of actual skulls and bones, kneels down to pray when divinely beautiful violin music is suddenly heard, but no player is seen anywhere. The sounds of the piece,  the “Resurrection of Lazarus” are so enthralling that Raoul himself is reminded of the legend of the Angel of Music.

When the music finally ceases, Raoul hears a sound from the pile of bones, and assumes that the invisible musician might be hiding there. Christine leaves, and suddenly the skulls start rolling towards Raoul, and he sees a shadow enter the church. He chases after him and manages to grab his cloak, and when the shadow turns around, he sees a terrifying death’s-head with burning eyes which shocks him so much that he faints. I assume that Erik was not wearing a mask here, and that his unmasked face was weapon enough to take Raoul out without any further need for fireballs or swordfights.

The next morning, Raoul is found half-frozen in the little church, and Christine and the landlady of the Inn both take care to revive him.

Historic images of Perros-Guirec from phantomstheater.weebly.com

Artwork by CoatNTails on deviantart

Next Chapter >>

[feastofcadavers]

Even in the most comfortable of beds, Mint couldn't seem to catch a break when it came to resting well. Though it didn't exactly help when the lights in his place of rest were flickering rapidly. Just barely opening his eyes, Mint looked into the blurry darkness that would seem to set itself alight for brief moments. It was through this haze that the musician would slowly process that this flickering was... Not normal. Blinking a few times to attempt to get some of the sleep out of his eyes, the emerald-eyed man would realize that these lights were flashing too sporadically to be caused by someone messing with the light switch. "Wha..." He'd tiredly start to speak, though soon had his eyes shoot open as he heard a distant yell. That- that sounded like someone was in excruciating pain.

Whipping himself out of bed- and nearly falling over due to the imbalance of just waking up- Mint looked around for where the sound could have come from. Aloe was in the room with him, sleeping peacefully and holding some sort of doll. He couldn't exactly make it out since the lighting was so inconsistent, but it at least wasn't the source of distress. There was a split-second idea of waking Aloe up, just in case, but... As the shrieking of pain caught in his ears again, he decided against such and just focused on the sound itself... Which seemed to be coming from outside.  There was a window in the space between the beds that the two resided in that also held a window, clear of dust and whatever else. There seemed to be sparks flying past it, coinciding with the screaming. So, what else was Mint to do? He'd approach the window, looking out into the world that wouldn't break into dawn for at least a few more hours.

And to the violinist's surprise, or rather, his shock... There was a yellow glow far beneath the window. And looking into that glow, there was... Someone. Too familiar with someone with electrical abilities, Mint could feel a weight on his heart as he heard the voice cry out again, barely recognizing the voice now that he had a visual. Lemon?! What was he doing all the way out here? Mint's expression furrowed into one of deep distress. What was causing that much pain? Screaming out into the darkness, the agony held in his voice, it... If it was something that even someone like Lemon couldn't stifle, it must've been excruciating. As the latest scream died down, the concerned onlooker could make out some sort of bag next to the sparking victim. That was-

Another scream-! This one was far louder than the others. One that sounded more like a screech that almost gave the impression that Lemon's vocal cords were tearing themselves apart. The horrific sound rang itself in Mint's ears, and he was met with the sight of... Oh- Oh for the love of- Mint could feel a similar pain shoot through his back as he saw the sight of wings tear out of Lemon's flesh. Despite the darkness, the red of blood was kept visible with the yellow glow that was speckled throughout it, highlighting the horrors and agony that one as cold as him couldn't help but fall apart under. Lemon was curling in on himself, wings seeming to glimmer as if it was some sort of newborn blessing.

Mint was finally able to pry himself away from the window, pupils trembling and his body tense as he tried to process what he just saw. His eyes wouldn't deceive him, would they? Putting a hand over his heart, he would breathlessly try to tell it to be still. He'd retract it a second later, knowing what his words implied. "Just... Just calm down... I-I... I need to..." Shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head, he'd turn away from the window and make a break out the door. What way was the exit to this place? He couldn't let Lemon suffer alone out there- Not when he had personal experience as to how painful it was and how weak one could become afterward!

Turning a corner, Mint would accidentally collide with Truffle, narrowly falling back but catching himself. "I'm- I'm sorry, I just-" "You are going to look for the source of all that screaming and these flickering lights, aren't you?" "Well, yes, but you- you see-" Mint would pause in his words, trying to properly get himself to speak. In which that effort was... marginally successful. "That- Out there is an acquaintance- Lemon, he... He just sprouted wings! I need to go and- and make sure he's taken care of!" "Ah, I see. Well then," Truffle began as she turned from Mint, softly smiling back at him, "how about we go pay him a visit and I will ensure that he is cared for? It would be rude to keep him waiting." As much as the violinist felt unease about the situation, at least Truffle was there to help- her and those spiders. He didn't question where the spiders were at this time, just... Instead focusing on making sure the two of them would get to Lemon as fast as possible.

Despite only being able to see some spindly portions of what Mint assumed to be the guide's dress, Truffle was very quick on her feet and brought the two out in no time flat. "This way-" Mint would quickly state, heading around the perimeter of the mansion. Past the graves and whatever else the Hallow's Eve addict had for decorations, Lemon was in sight, glowing bright and sparks flying from his wounds like frayed wires amidst the dark, wooded atmosphere. "Wait a moment," Truffle would interject, putting a hand on Mint's shoulder to stop them both from barging in. "There is someone in front of him- the one clad in reddish-purple, see?" The worried one would squint into the dark, and yes, there was someone else there. Someone... With a crossbow. Truffle would gently bring Mint behind a nearby tree, hiding him away from possible sight.

Mint would watch cautiously, attempting to get a better view of the one that seemed to be focused on Lemon. They were shorter than most he'd seen, but clearly not one to be messed with if the tattered cloak that covered them were any indication.

"So... You finally fucked up big time." The figure would speak, prominently irritated in tone. The voice was feminine, but held a gravelly undertone. "First Carrot, and now this? I should have shot you down the moment you decided to go after Caramel." There was a growl, the crossbow being tampered with in her hands. Mint almost brought himself out, but Truffle held onto his shoulder. "And where is he now, huh? Did your little prison break go well? I wouldn't say so, considering you're... Well... One of them now." Some mix of a scoff and a dry laugh came from the figure as she raised her crossbow and gestured idly over Lemon's body, as if deciding where to shoot. Lemon's body was visibly trembling. Not from the threat before him, but from the pain.

"I always thought you were a rebel, a dishonorable one at that. I can't believe you couldn't even stick with us hunters just because... Just because of some bitch that can't hold his own." And for once, Lemon would retort back. "You'd- you'd do the same for Carrot, Beet. Or should I call you... A hypocrite?" "Oh, shut your fucking mouth." Beet would take a step forward, aiming her weapon at Lemon's chest. Even if the sparking insect was stuck against the side of the mansion, bloodied and depleted of energy, he still had some sass in him it seemed. "At least I was able to save- to rescue someone that I care for, unlike you." "I said, shut your fucking MOUTH!"

Beet would let a bolt out of their weapon, but... It narrowly missed Lemon's head. Probably a warning shot. Probably. And at that point, Mint gave the impulse decision to run out and stand in front of Lemon- defending him. "L-listen here!" Mint would try to speak with confidence as they spread their arms to further cover Lemon- or more accurately- his wings. Though the tone of 'confident' was lacking naturally- so in a time such as this-? "I'm- I'm not going to let you kill him, who-whoever you are!" "Oooh, so now the one who nearly killed their own assistant is going to lecture me?" Mint's mouth opened, but no sound came out at such a remark. "Yeah, you heard me right. I know who you are. Most hunters do... Except for the one that ran out on us at the drop of a hat." Beet scowled, taking little time to reload her weapon and aim it once more. "I don't have time for either of you. Violin boy, if you step out of the way, I'll make your death painless. If not, then... it won't be. Simple as that." "You-” Mint’s perseverance wavered, but... “I won't let you kill either of us!" There was a pause between the two as Beet looked on inquisitively. She almost seemed mildly entertained, but that didn't stop her from raising her crossbow. "...So be it, bastard."

Three sounds were let out at once: A crossbow firing and clattering to the floor, a yip of pain, and a 'shnk' of an arrow through flesh. Beet would soon be wailing with a shower of swears to accompany it. While she had her moment, holding her arm and quickly finding that there would be more bites to come- Mint had his own ordeal. The upper part of his arm, though in the least pain of the three, had been pierced by Beet's weapon. He gasped and whined, leaning forward as his one arm gripped the other. "Ow ow ow-" He'd hiss out, eyes sealed shut as tears welled at the corners of his eyes. "W-worth it-"

After letting the pain course through him, Mint would wipe away the tears and open his eyes. To his surprise, where Beet previously stood was now a... Large white cocoon. A chill sent itself over the violinist's spine as he didn't wish to think about what could have happened in such a short time. Blink and one will miss it, he guessed. "Are you stable enough to bring yourself inside?" Truffle would gently ask, and Mint barely registered that the question was not for him. He opened his mouth to answer, but thankfully didn't embarrass himself by noticing that Truffle was behind him, helping Lemon to his feet. The poor newly cursed was forced to lean against the elder, who was stronger than she looked. Seems like the answer was no. "Well, you can't eat me anymore... so what the Hell else do I have left to lose?" He'd murmur in irritation. "Your dignity, the ones you care for, your life... There is plenty that you still have, young one." A mirthless laugh came from the elder as she would gingerly carry Lemon away, with the one being carried obviously miffed by the retort. Though Mint wasn't left unacknowledged, as Truffle would give him a motion to follow. He did so, and desperately tried to ignore the large sack of a body that he... Had a feeling wouldn't be alive for much longer, considering it was surprisingly still whilst being carried by spiders.

...At least Lemon was okay, even if there were some- Mint will guiltily admit- avoidable casualties...

[shadowblaze001]

The Story of the Duck Violinist

So if you're familiar with an original character for Ducktales I created call Alexander Quackers, I have a link in the bottom.

https://shadowblaze001.tumblr.com/post/670215525163499520/my-ducktales-oc

If you don't know what this story is about, I'll tell you. This is about Alex and how he got his first violin. This is the very first time I wrote this fanfiction and decided to post this for all of you to read. I hope you enjoy it.

It was a nice beautiful sunny day in Duckburg. The birds are singing in harmony, a nice breeze flowing past the trees as they're changing, and the city is filled with amazing things that are meant to be explored. For Alex, he just can't wait for those things to happen. He just came back from his home country to become a successful musician one day. He was also nervous about his first day of collage that was starting tomorrow. He didn't know what to wear for the season so he wore his a fuzzy green and blue swirled sweater and his signature flatcap that is dad gave him, before he passed.

"Woah! When my dad told me about what it was like back in Duckburg, I didn't expect it to be that big!" He said to himself while being surprised.

"I'm still nervous. Ever since I grew up in Washington Heights, I've always wished to become a great musician to inspire people." He thought to himself with a sad expression.

You could say that Alex Quackers was pretty new to Duckburg , he may have passed highschool and made a lot of friends back in his hometown, but here, he wasn't sure if he could succeed on making new friends.

That's when he noticed a music store that was across the street. He decided to go check it out to see for himself before looking both ways and crossing the street. When he got to the store, he wanted to see better inside. Inside we're old classic instruments. Old guitars, some woodwind instruments, percussion and plenty of brass for him to see. Some posters of old people who played those types of instruments.

"Can I help you with something?" Alex let out a startled quack, he turned around to me a tall old lady, with hexagon glasses, brown and grey long twin pigtails, and her dress had musical notes to match with her signature classic piano earrings.

He was surprised to see her appearance. Eventually he quickly apologized to her with a worried expression, "S-sorry, I just got scared! I hope I didn't startle you miss and..."

"It's alright" She said, cutting him off with a nice smile.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucinda Duckington, and I am the owner of the music store." She said with polite manners.

"Alex. Alexander Quacker. Nice to meet you too." He said introducing himself too with a timid smile.

"I've noticed that you've taken quite a liking to this store. Is there something that you might be interested in?" She asked while looking around the store.

He suddenly remembered why he came here then replied to her "Oh. Yeah, you see, I'm actually new to this place, and I thought to myself if I could have a look around. I've also wanted to become a nice musician, just like dad."

"Well isn't that just sweet." she said, chuckling.

Alex can feel his cheeks slowly feeling a little hot of embarrassment.

"Uh, yeah. I guess you could say that. It would also be nice to do something for my first day of college. I'm just staying in Duckburg until I finish college and my first year starts tomorrow." Telling her honestly while being a little bit embarrassed and twiddling his thumbs.

At the same time, he also browsed around some isles to see what she had, until he heard something playing. It sounded like a whispering string melody playing. It actually sounded like a violin was playing. As he tired to figure out where it was coming from, the source of it came from the door.

"Hmm? What is it, young man?" She asked while tilling her head a little.

"I think I hear something playing, and it's coming from over there." He told her while pointing to the door.

As Alex got closer to the door, he pressed his head on it. Then the sound stopped. When he opened the door, there was no one there, except for the violin and bow itself. He was actually shocked that there was no one there around with it. It almost feels like a ghost was there or something.

"A violin?" He asked while being dumbfounded. He looked around to see nobody, but Lucinda and himself.

He wanted to know if it was okay to touch it, so Alex decided to ask her.

"Is it okay if I touch the violin?" He asked politely. And all she did was give him a nod.

As he picked up the violin and bow, he started to get used to the proper position of it and was about to try playing it. Alex never played a violin before, he had seen others back in his hometown play guitars, drums, maracas, and pretty sure other instruments. He also did enjoy music. He was quite nervous that he was gonna sound bad with him playing it. As he took a deep breath, he started to play it.

It sounded actually beautiful, like something was telling him to calm down and play it from the heart. He soon got lost in his world of playing and listening to the melody of it. As for Lucinda she was smiling proudly at him while focusing to him playing. When Alex finished, he gripped on the neck of the violin, and was shocked at what happened all of the sudden.

"Huh?! Qué... How did.. What just..?!?!" He said while reacting surprisingly and shocked at the same time. He could not find any words to describe the sort of event he just made.

"Wonderful. I've never seen anybody play anything like that before, even on their first try." She said, beaming from the wonderful performance he made.

"Wait, what? What do you mean by that? It was only my first time playing the violin." He said really worried and scared.

"Actually there was a previous musician who owned that violin." She honestly to Alex, as she pointed tor violin "Would you be interested in hearing the story?"

With no other words to say, all Alex could do was nod his head. As he finds a nearby seat, he sits down on it and begins to listen to the story.

"Once upon a time, there was a poor fellow boy who lived alone with his father and mother. He dreamed that one day that he and family would be rich.

One day, when he was out getting food, he heard people who played music. He enjoyed the peaceful melody of them playing for the crowd. He would listen and even dance to the flow of it. He knew that his special dream was to become a musician, just like them.

As days passed of him working very hard, he finally got a violin to play. He had trouble playing it during his first week, but as days passed, he got better and better. He played, sang, and danced. His music attracted some people that are impressed by it. The crowd started throwing coins and money in his case. As time passed, he continued to play, he had gotten enough money to help his family.

Until one day, he met a beautiful girl. He was very happy too. Some nights he would play music for her, other times he would leave flowers for her. He also enjoyed her beautiful singing. They both started to fall in love with each other and started a new family together.

He also made a wish to his family saying that when he goes, he would like to see someone who can help finish what he started. Leaving his talent and his violin too. The family decided to keep that promise and created a music store to put him and his family history in a special room for anyone to know, including his musical instrument"

The story of a poor boy to a rich and famous person was beautiful and enchanting. As Lucinda finished her story, she also told him something that connected to it. "Legend has it, if you hear any whispering sounds of the violin playing, it could mean something special." Lucinda finally concluded her story with a secret.

As she did, Alex let out a quack, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand, which surprised her. Alex felt embarrassed as his cheeks got red.

"Ló siénto, hehe, that happens sometimes" He said, then chuckled lightly while smiling sheepishly. Then he started to ask her something about the famous musician.

"Wait, does the musician duck have a name?" Alex asked curiously

"Why yes indeed. Take a look on the back of the violin." She replied and told him.

As Alex did what she told him to, he was surprised to see the name. And his name was Moreno Duckington.

Alex was not only happy, but really inspired as well. And after meeting the store owner, she must be a member of his family as well. Even though Alex never played a violin before until now, I guess you could say, he was gifted with a talent. After hearing the origins of the famous musician, Moreno Duckington and his violin, he wanted to make a promise on cherishing his position to entertain others.

"Hey Ms. Duckington was it? I know after hearing one of your family members history, do you think I could have this violin to pass down your family generation as me achieving my dreams too? I promise that I would take good care of it." He asked her looking up to her from the violin in his hand.

With that question asked, she beamed while replying " Of course sweetie."

And with that, finally got the instrument, thanked Lucinda, and as he headed outside the store, he didn't that it was almost sunset already. I guess that spending time inside that store and listening to the story made the day fly past quickly. He immediately rushed over to his college and then finally he made it just in time to get to his official dorm which had been planned for him.

Thank you so much for reading this. This took me almost a whole day to do. But it was totally worth it. I've also sometimes wish for my fanfiction to be turned into a comic. Anyways, thank you so much for your love and support. I hope you have a good day!!!

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

[mae-gi-writes]

Moonlight Sonata (Part 1) | Kevin Moon (TheBoyz Imagine)

A girl forms an unlikely bond with her neighbour; a young violinist who seems to understand her sad songs.

Genre: angst, idk future fluff? and just me fangirling over how BEAUTIFUL AND ETHEREAL Mr.Moon looked in Quasi Una Fantasia AND I HOPE HE NEVER READS MY STORIES GOD I THINK HE’LL JUST CRINGE AND I JUST SJHFDSLJDLSKGHDJ YEAH. YUP. SORRY. 

Words: 3K 

Part One | Part Two

............

It’s always raining in the space where her heart is supposed to be.

She carries carries it around like a dead weight in her chest, unknown to the world, going about her business in her usual manner so that no one will notice. And she doesn’t want them to, because she fears that allowing the words to float out of her mouth will make the words tangible somehow, threatening her similar to someone pointing a gun at her temple.

No matter how much she tries to comb through her memory, she can’t really pinpoint where everything started going wrong. One minute, she had been the fine, carefree child who smiled and lived life to the best of her ability, and the next, she’s falling off the edge of a cliff and plunging towards a dark hole of misery she now calls her reality.

But it doesn’t really matter now does it? Considering that she can’t seem to crawl back out, fingers slipping every time she tries to hold on to the strands of hope. They are fleeting clouds hanging over her head and barely within her reach, entities that seem so close yet so far away at the same time.

Her days are unsurprisingly monotonous. She ploughs through her usual routine, opening up the small restaurant where she works, a quaint Hawaiian spot named “Banhana” decked with wooden furniture and colourful array of artificial plants that adorn the insides. She takes orders when it gets busy, but usually hides out in the kitchen washing the dishes, leaving it to her co-worker, Jacob, to entertain the customers. It doesn’t seem like he minds though. He’s a literal ray of sunshine that carries happiness around like a drug. Except. even that doesn’t help her. Not really.

In fact, it makes her feel sick.

She usually gets home around ten on weeknights, takes a shower and jumps straight into bed. On this particular night however, she is surprised to hear a soft, unfamiliar melody coming from her small balcony.

Curious, she tiptoes over and pokes her head out. What she sees forms a crease between her eyebrows on the terrace beside hers sits a young man, legs precariously dangling over the edge of the balcony with a violin tucked under his chin. He’s so close to the edge that one wrong move may cause him to plummet to his death.

But his stature, the way he holds himself, with straight shoulders and his chin tilted upwards, exudes full trust and confidence in himself as he keeps on playing, the melody dancing through the night air with a sombre, sad tone that causes something inside her chest to tremble with emotion.

It’s beautiful and poetic, but dark, imprinted with the kind of sorrow that she can’t really explain.

Before she knows it, she steps forward to close the terrace doors behind her. The sound alerts him. He swivels his head around, a look of unsurprising indifference on his face as she takes notes of the way his thin lips purse, eyebrows furrowing and his dainty nose un-scrunching from his earlier concentration. He must not be that much older, she decides as her eyes skim over his white dress shirt, partly untouched, and his dark dress pants that suggest that he’s just come back from a formal outing.

That’s not what really catches her attention though. She wouldn’t have spared him a glance if she hadn’t seen his eyes. Because in those dark feline orbs, she sees the same sadness lingering in his pupils, almost like she’s staring at her own reflection. Sad, lost, tired from life itself.

Something in her heart squeezes tight.

“Hi.”

His voice, the softest of tenors that border on the line of soprano, vibrates through the chilly night air. Impulsively, the girl’s arms weave around her middle, hugging herself as she keeps gazing at him in silence.

That doesn’t seem to bother him, for he continues in a murmur, “Apartment eleven?”

She nods once. He dimly reminds her of an ethereal moonlit prince, what with his curly raven locks and the steel cross earring glinting whenever it catches in the moonlight.

He turns back to lift his violin and, with deft and practised precision, resumes his song. It’s soulful, raw, painted with a sadness that prompts her to sit down at the stray chair she’d forgotten to store inside while she allows the musical notes to wash through her like medicine.

It’s not enough to fill that hollow space in her chest. But it’s enough to dim it to a softer, duller ache. When the melody ends, she finds that she can breathe a little easier, heart a little less tight.

“Why are you so sad?”

His question causes her eyes to fly open. She hasn’t expected him to be so direct.

Sure enough, when her eyes flutter back up to lock with his, he’s already gazing at her, head tilted to examine her features in a way that makes her flinch back on reflex.

It’s like he knows. Like he sees right through her with an insistence to understand the complexity going on behind her dark mahogany eyes.

She shrugs, finding herself to sit a little straighter. He waits a moment before answering, hands busying themselves with his violin, “you have that look in your eyes, you know?”

Oh, she knows all right. Her chest swells with emotion and she feels the lump inside her throat.

“What look?” her question is a murmur. But the man hears her, and his almond probe hers with such intensity that it causes her breath to catch in her throat.

She feels exposed, naked. And she really doesn’t like it.

"I don’t know, like you have this sadness that constantly follows you around that you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you try,” he murmurs.

“How would you know what my sadness looks like? Or feels like? Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Oh no, I know,” his face softens, “because I feel it too. You--You look a lot like me.”

Her hands find purchase in her lap, wringing into the folds of her sweater and ignoring the spark of pain igniting through her chest at the thought of being caught.

He can see it. he sees her, just like she sees him. That thought alone is terrifying.

“You...You see it too, right?” he asks.

She nods.

They lapse into silence for the rest of the night, not that there’s much to be said when two tired souls are roaming through the night sky to keep each other company as they wade through the thick layers of sadness coiled so tight around their hearts that they feel like suffocating. She isn’t really sure when she falls asleep but the next thing she knows, her eyes are fluttering open only to squint at the rays of stark ten-in-the-morning sun.

She throws a hand up to block the light from blinding her, before noticing a yellow post-it note hanging off her side of the railing shared with the said young man.

She picks it up. There’s nothing but a singular smiley face staring back at her and her own lips can’t help but mirror its expression.

............

A week goes by before she sees him again. This time, it’s around mid-afternoon and he’s playing a remixed version of Tchaicovsky’s “Nutcracker”. The notes are playful and light, a warm embrace of musical comfort as she slowly finds herself humming to the tune from her kitchen.

When she pads out to the terrace with two bowls of fresh fruit -- one for him as well -- he only nods in silent appreciation. They eat in silence while watching the sun descend in the horizon like molten lava.

“Something good happen?” she can’t help but ask quietly, so quietly he barely catches her words as they drift through the wind.

He looks at her, curiosity filling his face and she shrugs, “your music. It’s...lighter. Happier.”

His lips curl up in the faintest of smiles, barely there as he mimics her shrug, “it just gets better sometimes. Better days. I like those. It’s easier to breathe. Easier to think and do stuff.”

She nods in understanding. His words resonate with her more than she likes to admit and somehow, it helps to know that she’s understood without being judged, without someone actually knowing her. He doesn’t seem to provide her with solutions, he just listens, keeps her company in her silence.

She appreciates that.

“I wish I could have those more often,” she finds herself saying.

“Don’t we call? They come and go so spontaneously, so quickly. Like fireflies, they slip right through your fingers if you’re not quick enough.”

“I’d like to catch one, one day,” she answers, “a firefly, I mean.”

“They’re not easy to catch, but definitely worth the struggle, worth the extra mile you gotta go to look for them.”

His face, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, is alight with a life, as though his profile is surrounded by a halo. Dark eyes sparkling a lighter caramel and grinning at her like an amused child. She finds his mood contagious and smiles back hesitantly.

“I’ll try my best,” she murmurs in response, and as they admire the sky turning into a blanket full of stars, they both know that she’s not only talking about fireflies.

............

It becomes second nature for her to look out onto her terrace to see whether he’s there or not and while she knows that she shouldn’t be so dependent on his presence, she can’t help herself but find in him so much beauty, so much hope, that she constantly lives for the days when she stumbles into her flat and gets serenaded by his violin that greet her. It’s like she’s actually coming home to something and for a while, it really is the only thing that she looks forward to all day.

His music is deep and classical most of the time, playing over and over again as though he’s constantly practicing until he gets the notes perfectly right, until the rhythm is part of him completely. Then, on a few occasions, his melody would lighten, become upbeat and jazzy. It’s during these times that she’d find herself bobbing her head along, twirling around as she watches over the eggs sizzling in her pan, tapping her feet and swaying her hips when she’d be scrubbing her living room floor.

"Eggs again?” he asks when she settles onto her chair which is now being in constant use.

“Protein,” she mumbles through a mouthful.

“But what about cholesterol?”

"Then so be it, let me die.”

“Death by eggs.”

A snort erupts from her before she can stop it, and he soon joins in on her laughter.

She catches him talking to himself one day during the middle of the night. Or, to be more accurate, in the early hours of the morning.

“Who are you talking to?”

He jumps, turning to her with a guilty look on his face, “what? No one.”

"Don’t lie.”

“Okay, fine. I was talking to my violin. So what?”

“You were talking...to your violin?”

“Why yes, she’s very sensitive. Got into a bit of a mood because I didn’t clean her yesterday and now,” he lifts his chin to show her the bruising as a result, “look what I have.”

“But that’s because you play too much--”

“No no, me and my violin have some unfinished business.”

She isn’t sure what to call this kind of relationship. Sure, they’re neighbours but she won’t go as far as call him a friend, considering that they barely know each other. Heck, she realizes that she doesn’t even know his name!

But then, when she comes home one day to nothing but an impaling silence, she can’t help but feel a flicker of worry coating her stomach. She tries not to think too much about it at first, telling herself that maybe it’s just because he’s tired and went to bed early that night, or that maybe he’s out spending time with his friends.

Her concern keeps growing as more days pass by and still there’s no sign of the said raven-haired young man that looks like he’s just walked out of a fairytale book. She tries not to overthink but even her job isn’t enough to keep her mind from wandering, finding herself conjuring up impossible scenarios while scrubbing the dishes, so much so that she keeps getting reprimanded by the manager for her sloppy work.

She knows she shouldn’t try invading on his privacy. Maybe there’s something that’s going on with him, maybe he’s trying to figure things out on his own. But the worry keeps consuming her, eats at her raw until she has no other choice but to go up to his apartment and knock onto the door.

Not surprised to find that there’s no response, she finds herself desperate enough to jump over her terrace onto his, before knocking onto his terrace doors.

Still, nothing. Cupping her hands around her face to peek inside, she can’t quite make out the room shrouded in darkness. But when she tries opening the door, it slides away with ease, which does nothing to unravel the sudden knot that tightens in her chest.

She takes a few, unsure steps, opening her mouth to call him when it dawns upon her that she still doesn’t know his name. Gosh, she feels like slapping herself. Definitely next time. There is silence in his flat, which has similar arrangements to hers; with the casual black and white kitchenette that gives view to the dinner table, a dark-coloured couch and a tv squished to the other side with a room leading off to his bedroom, and while she expects it to be slightly messy and lived in, it’s surprising at what little she finds of his personal belongings. Everything seems in order -- a little too much in order -- and there’s barely any sign of life. Not even a discarded pair of slippers littering the ground or a forgotten mug onto the table counter. Only a lone, dark jacket had been previously tossed onto the couch.

Then, her ears perk up at the sound of sniffling. She halts in her steps, straining to hear where it’s coming from.

Bedroom, she thinks, almost like there’s someone sick, someone--

someone crying.

Tiptoeing over to the said bedroom and gingerly poking her head in so as not to startle the young man inside, it takes her a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room, before she catches sight of a crumbled figure at the foot of an unmade bed.

It’s him. Her heart twists at the sight. He looks broken, so fragile, swamped in-between layers of his blankets that he’s tucked himself into as if trying to find some semblance of comfort. She can’t help but feel her heart break with every shaky inhale of his shoulders. But before she can say anything, his head whips up in alarm and he throws her a red-rimmed, wide-eyed stare.

“What--” he chokes upon his words, sounding muffled due to his clogged up nose, “what are you doing here?”

His voice is thick with emotion that he tries so hard to restrain, bloodshot eyes casting her small glances before averting them like he’s ashamed of himself. She isn’t really sure what to do at first, surprised at finding him in such a state even when she’s seen the broken pieces of his countenance so vividly at the border of his irises. But she hasn’t imagined that she’d see him like this, looking defeated and lost and like someone has shattered his soul to pieces.

So she does the only thing she can. Approaching him slowly so as not to scare him off, the said young man buries his face back into the cradle of his arms, adamantly avoiding her at all costs if possible. But she only sits down beside him, finds a piece of the blanket before one of her hands reach out to pat his shoulder.

"You’re okay,” she murmurs, although she knows deep down that this is not what he wants to hear, not right now anyway, “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

It takes a few seconds for his shoulders to start shaking. But then, he breaks into full out sobs, body trembling like a newborn fawn as he cries and cries and cries endlessly as the girl does nothing but smooth a hand over his shoulder, down his back, up again in a motion that she hopes is comforting while trying not to focus on how heartbroken he sounds. He cries like he’s in pain, like someone has taken a knife and is continuously plunging it straight into his heart and she’d be lying to say that it doesn’t cause her own heart to clench in sympathy as the room fills up once more with nothing but his tears.

He calms down after a while and falls silent beside her, so silent that she fears he’s tired himself out to sleep. Then, he speaks.

“How?”

“Hm?” she blinks at him, confused.

“How did you--” he hiccups, words still muffled against his arms, “how did you get in?”

“Your terrace door was open.”

A moment of silence stretches between the pair, before he turns his face to her, still leaning against his arms and she tries not to let her shock paint over her face at how utterly fragile he looks in that very moment. Her hand can’t help but reach out and push a stray strand of his raven hair away from his face, chest wound so tight she feels as though she might cry too.

"Feel better?” she murmurs.

He lifts his shoulder into a one-armed shrug, “Yeah,” his lips press into a thin line, thinking for a moment, before he continues, “my family, they’re back in Vancouver. That’s where I come from. They--They sent me here to become a professional violinist, thought that I’d make it here because I already had the scholarship.”

She isn’t really certain why he’s divulging all this personal information and a thought inside her wonders whether he’s drunk. But there’s something about crying that makes one more vulnerable, that allows all defences to go down so that the truth spills out without effort.

“And it’s good, you know? Everything’s going really well. I’m doing great in terms of academics. I’ve made a small group of friends. It could be worse. But,” his voice can’t help but crack, “I--I miss them. I miss home,” another sob croaks out of him, “I--I want to go home.”

The tears are silent this time as they roll down his face, traces of silvery light against his cheekbones, down to his jaw and dripping off his shirt sleeve. Still, she keeps patting his arm, biting her lip to stop herself from tearing up at the way his sadness seems to seep through her, into her bones as sympathy surges through her loins like an ocean swelling against the current of a sudden storm.

“And I--I can’t tell them,” he whispers brokenly, “I can’t, because they’ve done so so much. They did this for me, and I--”

His words are broken up by another silent sob and she notices how he bites his lip in an attempt to stop himself, and her hand squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s totally alright to feel this way,” she murmurs unsurely, not really sure what to say to make him feel better, “it’s definitely not your fault.”

“Yeah but--but they want this for me, right? I don’t want to disappoint them, after everything--”

“You would never disappoint them,” she cuts him off firmly, “if anything, I’m sure they’re proud of how much you’ve achieved already. You’ve done so, so much. They’re all so proud of you, I’m sure. And it’s normal to miss them, or to feel homesick. You’re so far away and yet, here you are, so strong. You’re so strong, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

While she’s kicking herself for not having anything else other than clichéd lines to tell him to make him feel better, it seems to work for the young man. Slowly but surely, he falls silent as his tears dry up and after some time, leans his head against her shoulder, probably worn out and tired from having cried so much as a peaceful silence falls over the room, with only his soft, steady breaths to keep her company.

-----

Part 2 will be up soon! Stay tuned! 

How are you guys liking it so far? 

- maegi

[altumvidetur]

Haikyuu!! Fic Recs (BokuAka)

Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I’ve decided to split it in a series of posts, starting with my OTPs. This time it’s BokuAka’s turn!

cookies and cream, by norio

Some people might tell Akaashi that he couldn't bake his worries away.

But some people haven't dated Bokuto Koutarou.

dozens of red roses, by norio

“And what’s the boyfriend getting for Bokuto’s birthday?” Kuroo asked, mirthful grin on his face.

“Oh,” Akaashi said, distracted by the magazine. “The next time he visits the dentist, I’ll pay for half what the insurance doesn’t cover.”

The silence dropped around the store like a chilling and killing frost.

i put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight, by carafin

In which Bokuto Kotarou is woefully inept at conveying his feelings, and Akaashi Keiji has a sort-of superpower. Sort of.

-

Next to him, Komi is chewing his cupcake dutifully, albeit with obvious effort. Washio has assumed a completely neutral expression on his face, although Akaashi thinks that his eyes might be watering. Sarukui, having seemingly demolished the entire thing out of sheer willpower alone, looks like he deeply regrets every single choice that has led to this precise moment in his life.

‘It isn’t too bad, huh?’ Bokuto says, grinning. ‘I made them in our school colours, so they’re like, marbled black and white chocolate swirls! Do you guys want more?’

Sarukui looks like he might pass out at the thought alone. Komi pauses mid-chew to shake his head weakly.

‘I’ll have more,’ Akaashi says, to the general astonishment of everyone.

better than spy films, by dalyeau

Akaashi knocks Bokuto out and Bokuto falls in love. Kuroo laughs about it.

Maybe We’re Airborne, Baby, by fathomfive

Realizing he's got it bad for his setter is the easy part. But getting his feelings across might be Bokuto's biggest endeavor yet, not counting his literature final or putting out the flames on that birthday cake he tried to bake for Akaashi last year, or—or a lot of things, actually.

But the point still stands. Reaching out to Akaashi is a leap in the dark, and Bokuto wants it more than he's ever wanted anything. He's an expert at seizing his perfect moment, at bringing victory home against the odds. So he's got this, right? It's gonna go great, right? Right?

(After all, it's what you attempt with your own two hands that matters.)

heavy heart, a love apart, by drifloon

(802): Our sex has gotten so much better since we broke up.

Character Development, by silvercistern

"That’s some kinda gratitude. What happened to my painfully polite little brother? I get the ideal guy to take you to prom, and you act like he's not even here!"

"I doubt I’d let him take me to the hospital if I were bleeding to death."

Keiji needs a date. Bokuto needs dating lessons. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

prepare for rain, by norio

“First you must make a delicious bowl of tea; lay the charcoal so the water boils; arrange the flowers as they are in the field; in the summer suggest coolness, in the winter, warmth; do everything ahead of time; prepare for rain; and give those with whom you find yourself every consideration.”

- Sen no Rikyu

cracks in the pavement will lead you home, by deusreks

Bokuto often thinks about Akaashi, especially when he’s running. It’s like his legs know where they’re supposed to take him. He grows into a habit of running a lot, just to keep that feeling going. Cracks and holes in the pavement aren’t fun to jump over if the final reward isn’t seeing Akaashi’s face.

An alternate universe with a little bit of magic and a lot of growing up.

il mio ragazzo falso, by Karasuno Volleygays

With his grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary looming fast and large, Akaashi finds himself urged to bring a date and not quite to the point where his family knows that said date will not be of the female variety.

At some point, he has to decide which will be the least frightening prospect — braving coming out to his family or endure Operation: Find Keiji A Girlfriend 2k15.

And why is the only person he can think of to drag along to this thing his overly-spirited volleyball captain?

#someonepleasesaveakaashi

right in the head, by Mysecretfanmoments

That was the other thing: when Keiji had said he wanted to make his way home, Bokuto had agreed—as if it didn’t matter where they went. He hadn’t said "we should look for a community" or "there’s probably nothing there anymore".

He’d just asked which way.

((the bokuaka zombie au literally no one asked for))

how to become a birder, by norio

“Since I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto said, giving an unnecessarily meaningful look, “You know what I want, right? It’ll be easy! You take pictures of me, I turn them in, my professor says I’m the smartest genius, I graduate, I go play pro, I win the Olympics.”

The World’s Best Kept Secret, by kythen

The struggles of keeping a relationship a secret (when it really isn't a secret at all).

third wheel, by arsenicjay

"So you and Bokuto, huh?"

Akaashi's attention snaps back to Kuroo and he gives the other boy a blank stare. "What about us?"

Or, Kuroo figures out that Bokuto is interested in Akaashi long before Bokuto does himself and being the kind friend that he is, tries to help them along.

cherished, by gabstar

Bokuto tends to panic when Akaashi expresses discomfort or concern. Akaashi didn't need that. Akaashi was better off handling this alone.

((In which Bokuto's love sick, Akaashi's sick-sick, and together they feel a little better))

Kissing Ace, by Karasuno Volleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way. But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

legs killed the owl, by dalyeau

He's not smiling anymore an hour later, after he's fucked up four perfect spikes that Akaashi tossed carefully for him because he's too distracted by the lean, elegant line of Akaashi's legs, kneepads dark against the white of Fukurodani's gym.

tea-stained polaroids, by dalyeau

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head. 

owls, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

It was no secret that Bokuto genuinely loved owls, considering his locker was full of them, but Akaashi kept his own like of the animal very low key.

How Bokuto found out otherwise, he didn't know.

all lost souls, by norio

Not again, Akaashi thought. But he had never seen this sight before.

run rabbit run, by norio

Rule #1: Don't hurt Akaashi. Rule #2: Don't taint Akaashi. Rule #3: Don't involve Akaashi. Rule #4: Don't damage Akaashi. Rule #5 (optional): Try not to destroy yourself.

gwah, bam and swoosh, by dalyeau

When Bokuto meets Kageyama the first thing he thinks is, No five year old should be able to scowl like that.

Or be that tall.

Then, Shit, his dad is really hot.

Spoiled, by gabstar

Akaashi desperately needs a new mattress and he drags his loyal, loving, and very loud boyfriend with him.

omam verse, by shionsheart

Though some may believe they're monsters, those closest to them know they're just men learning how to love in this world of magic, demons, and faeries.

i’ll return home one day, by awkwardedgeworth

"Bro," He asks Kuroo out of the blue one day when they're toweling their hair dry, "What if Sawamura is halfway across the world and he only comes home seven times a year for around four days each?"

"I would consider every moment a blessing. You got it bad for Akaashi already?"

"I just wish you would introduce us sooner."

Or, wherein Akaashi is a world famous violinist, Kuroo introduces him to future Olympian-to-be Bokuto Koutarou. And Bokuto pines. A lot.

morning owls, by norio

Most of the time, if Bokuto woke up first, he would shake Akaashi awake. Sometimes he would bake sloppy pancakes for breakfast in bed, and sometimes he would sit on Akaashi's waist.

And sometimes he did not.

Insomniac Olympics, by Aetherdrive

Akaashi never thought he could inspire anyone, let alone an artist -- and then he met Bokuto.

counterclockwise, by miiniwa

How they had gone from point a to point b in such a short amount of time, he doesn't know. But as he dwells on it, he realizes that he doesn't exactly mind.

if kisses were fishes, then i’d be an ocean, by norio

Akaashi needs a fake date partner, so he grabs the first person he sees.

the way you look at me, by ThinkingCAPSLOCK

Bokuto sees him every day, every commute, at the final train. The stranger he only knows as Train Guy. Wrapped in coats, mystery, and distance - that is, until Bokuto breaks their familiar silence. He struggles with the hardest part of befriending someone he thinks he already knows: taking a step back to reevaluate all his assumptions.

He finds the easiest part is getting to learn about Train Guy all over again.

[thisiskatsblog]

Hey, sorry if this is too personal or if you’ve already answered it. Would you mind telling how you realized you were bisexual? I’m kinda confused and struggling a bit 😫

Hi there! Warm hugs to you! Confusion happens. Struggling with that is really normal and okay. Whatever it is that’s confusing you, there’s probably a lot to unpack, but it’s good you’re not running away from it. For me, there were cues all along, but clarity came when for the first time, and this was in my mid- twenties, I allowed myself to sit with all of my feelings, without pushing any of them away. Because pushing them away, I only then realized, I had been doing for a very long time. 

It was almost insignificant. My partner commented positively on the female violinist at a Sparklehorse concert. I was really pissed and scolded him about it. He said I shouldn’t feel so offended as “She’s your type”. For a moment I felt like I was about to explode. He meant to say she looked like me, but for a second I understood something different. And I had a flash of realization. I had been about to act offended, which would have been blatantly homophobic, but underneath, I had also felt a tinge of relief, YES she WAS my type, I liked this woman, I’d do her. And it was this mix of “oh god I almost acted like a homophobic prick” and “oh god FINALLY someone GETS me” that made me realize - OH. I have these feelings, and they have been making me miserable, because I feel like I should be pushing them away. But what if I didn’t act like a prick to myself, what if I stopped being scared of them, stopped pushing them away? I watched the rest of that concert mesmerized by the wonder of my feelings for Sparklehorse’s cute violinist, and realized, yes, I feel sexual desire for women, and that’s never going to go away. My sexual desire for men had always been clear and without question to me, I knew that wasn’t going to go away either. So that was the start of a long, and still ongoing, journey of gradually looking my feelings in the eye, and starting to understand I was always going to feel attracted to more than one gender, and trying to navigate that fact in a biphobic and bi erasing world. It is not always easy and simple. I don’t feel I’m fully there; but looking it in the eye really made me a better, nicer, happier person.  

I have probably shared the full story in the past and I may have tagged it “bisexuality” or “me”, but I feel ya so I’m happy to tell the story again. Under the cut. And: always here to talk. 

Clearly it’s something that was always there, and the realization came in many many stages. When I first heard of the concept gay people (it was the eighties, in the context of AIDS) I asked my mom “but what if I turn out to be gay” and her absolute certainty that I wouldn’t, really did not sit right with me. I was 8 and could not imagine getting naked with anyone, but I could imagine marrying a girl. I think I already realized I liked some girls a bit more than others in my very early teens, but it took the form of strong admiration.  I grew up in a strongly religious and homophobic environment, incredibly powerful incentives all around to ignore those feelings, stay far away from them, not explore them, just, pretend they were not there and label them “I just REALLY want to be her friend”. Just blame that tingly feeling in your chest when you sat close and she talked in your ear on the strong smell of her perfume. And later, telling yourself this is a phase, a test. Yep, must be God testing me - praying (something i considered useless long before I lost all faith), but praying, probably the last time I did it, please God, help me, please let this go away. I cried an entire night long. And forgot about that episode for more than ten years. Pushed it as far as I could in my memory.

 Knowing for absolutely sure I liked guys, I was sure I could not be a lesbian (and didn’t want to be, the homophobia was deeply engrained) and I was sure this would eventually go away. And it did, I got a boyfriend, he was cool, and beautiful, and delicate, and he had long hair. Boyfriends came and went until I met a girl who instantly became my best friend on the day we met, and someone - probably thinking we looked cosy - handed us a flyer to an LGBT event at uni that same day (I should write a fic based on this I know). She said “let’s go, for fun”, and me, remembering the goddess from high school who had inspired my desperate prayers, though, yeah, I should look into this, and said, “yeah, for giggles”. We went and I... did NOT feel at home. I’m rather femmy, and most of the women there were pretty butch, and I just... did not feel attracted or like I belonged. I also didn’t like it when the groups split up and the guys went elsewhere. We watched a lame movie about a woman discovering herself and my friend had opinions. One of which was “I don’t want to go for the drinks after, you’re prettier than any of the girls here anyway, let’s go to mine and have some tea”. I am pretty flirt blind I have to tell you that at this point. Over all the years that we were best friends we emotionally functioned as a co-dependent couple, but I never took any of those things she said, like “you are more important to me than any boy could be” seriously. Like, at all. I was pretty dense. Plain stupid, really. But I agreed with her and said, yeah no, not interested, let’s have tea at your place. All the environmental homophobia had deeply hidden me from myself. So we stayed best friends who acted a bit like a couple. 

So i was completely oblivious, but it must have been around this time that I at some point woke up from a very sexy, pleasing dream, which I had not wanted to wake up from, and realized, hey, that was a girl, with delicious boobs, lush lips and beautiful curly hair I was just dreaming of. SHOCK. It was not a phase... By then I’d had sexual experiences, had grown comfortable with being a sexual being (coming from such a religious upbringing, that in itself took ages) and I could look it in the eye. Sexual desire for women. But I thought it was just that. Hmm, I apparently like thinking of sex with women. Not a hair on my head that considered a romantic relationship, building a life with a woman. It was before women could get married to eachother and have children. Ellen had come out maybe a year or two before, or three, or five, I don’t know - point is: I didn’t know any long term female couples. There were no examples.

That said, my friend and I were sometimes perceived as a couple (I will never forget the time someone congratulated us on planning to move in together, or the time someone called her my sweetheart instead of my friend (girlfriend and friend are the same word in Dutch, so I cannot imagine the times people used that word meaning something other than I took it for, or the times I said it and people took it for something else). But people really close to us thought we were an item. Except there were boyfriends, coming in and out of our lives through revolving doors. They generally didn’t bother me. I mean, mine, always delicate long haired boys, sometimes wearing makeup or girls’ clothes, DEFINITELY did not bother me. But they annoyed her. She never thought any of them was good enough for me. I didn’t think any of her boyfriends were quite good enough for her, but she was clearly also not serious about them, so they didn’t bother me. Until we made plans to move into an appartment together and she sent me househunting with her then boyfriend who was also looking for something, and he inadvertently said “i don’t need something big, I expect I’ll be spending most of my time at your apartment”. I cancelled the plans immediately and I didn’t even know why it hurt me so much. 

Worst. Breakup. Ever. She was extremely upset over it as well. People who knew us well could just not get what had happened. And it took me years to figure out how I had been separating my strong emotional attachment to her very neatly from any sexual attraction I felt to the female body. Years later, I figured out that my behaviour on a beach holiday with our respective temp boyfriends, had been pure jealousy and repression. One time she wanted to bathe topless and I got completely upset. My boyfriend was upset at me “not trusting him”, her boyfriend was upset at me “being a prude”, and she was upset at me refusing to look at her and “treating her like a slut” (I wish). But really I was scared shitless. I did not want to look at her boobs. Without being in any way conscious of it, I looked away to avoid having to recognize sexual feelings. That same holiday her boyfriend at some point stood stark naked on a table. I looked away from his private parts as well, a little less though, those feelings were also not desirable considering he was her boyfriend, but - you know - more familiar, and less scary. When I heard her bumping the headboard in the room next door, I wanted to have loud sex with my boyfriend too. 

And years later, I had sex with her boyfriend as well. After he’d long been dumped and replaced, after I’d cancelled the moving in plans. After she and I had tentatively started talking again. I begged him never to tell her anything about it ever. It felt like the worst betrayal, as I knew she had truly cared for him and I couldn’t bear for her to find out. I don’t think she ever did. I also never stopped feeling guilty about it. What she thought of me was the only thing I cared about. 

There was a short interlude with a hot redhead I’d developed sexual desire for, still not taking the possibility of a relationship with a woman seriously, and running into her in the underwear department with exactly the same set in her hands, and thinking, oh, to buy underwear for her, wrap it, gift it to her on her birthday, and that eliciting the picture of a longer term relationship with her, and thinking, yeah for her I might not mind people thinking i was gay, I’d be proud to introduce her to my friends - an easier thought to entertain when it’s entirely hypothetical and also realizing then: uhm. People thought I’d be a lesbian, like they now think I’m straight. Perhaps this is the reason why I do not know anyone who is bisexual. I just think of them all as straight, or gay. The invisibility of people who are bisexual was a really difficult one for me. It’s SO difficult to picture coming out as bisexual when no one you know is living any kind of example. Anyway. This was a fantasy, but a useful one in making progress towards understanding myself. 

Enter the man I ended up having a child with. He had been in the picture for a while. The “girlfriend” from before (that’s what I call her now) had always warned me off him, didn’t think we’d be a good match. But I really liked him, that wasn’t going away. So when it turned out he liked me too, we got together and it worked. It was our last year of uni, and after, she moved away for an internship, and I moved in with him. She visited once, which led to his confession that he hated her guts, and her confession that she hated his, followed by a list of denigrating comments about our living circumstances. She was clearly not supportive of the relationship that was everything to me so the decision was easy to cut her out. This was even worse than the first “breakup”, complete with nightmarish dreams and withdrawal symptoms. I kept dreaming about her an din those dreams we’d make up and apologize for all the horrible things we had said and done to eachother. I also kept having sexual dreams of Madonna, and a hot friend of ours. Which I’d discuss with my boyfriend. He could relate. It must have been around this time that I started truly questioning the nature of my lost relationship with the girl.

The relationship with my boyfriend was good but I did display some serious unpleasantness around... certain issues. I’d always had that with my boyfriends. I had issues with pictures of beautiful girls on their walls. Particularly if they had nice boobs. They had all seen that as inappropriate jealousy or prudishness. Jealousy it was, but not the kind they thought. To me, the realization FINALLY came as I was at a concert with my boyfriend, and he was talking appreciatively about a female violinist. I acted angry and upset. He called me a prude. I denied it. He called me jealous. I denied it. He thought I was acting like a pain in the ass anyway and said I should feel honoured, cause “She’s your type”, he said. 

And my brain went “Ah”. Indeed, she is my type. I’d do her. BUT I CANNOT SAY THAT AND I HATE YOU FOR BEING ABLE TO SAY THAT. I was jealous, cause he was allowed to express desire for women, and I felt that I was not. So that was it, my aha moment during a Sparklehorse concert. He had meant ‘she looks a bit like you’, I got him completely wrong, but I am so thankful I did. 

That’s unfortunately not the end of the story. But it was the turning point. I had finally understood. It was the starting point of me revisiting all the past issues, stringing all the beads I just painted for you together, making sense of my own story. I made a resolution then and there, that - whatever else - I was probably never ever going to come out, because bisexuality did not exist in my world,  but I would allow myself to feel sexual desire for women. I was going to stop hating myself for it, and I was going to stop hating others for being allowed to feel something I didn’t allow myself to feel. I instantly became a much more pleasant person to everyone I know. And enjoyed my raunchy dreams about Sparklehorse’s violinist, Madonna, and a certain redhead. 

On online fan forums I started migrating to LGBTQ content, it was my way of staying in touch with my community, as there was none in my real life. There was no local  bi group that I knew of, and though I did attend some lesbian parties with a lesbian friend, besides her, most lesbians I met were not very welcoming. The fact that I had a boyfriend of course did not help. I should not be blaming them. 

I found my people online. Started introducing myself to people I met online as bi. Started figuring out how I had been suppressing my sexual desire for women. Then when I couldn’t deny that anymore, had been separating my emotional attachment to women from sexual desire. Realized that societal heteronormativity had made it almost impossible for me to conceive of women as potential long term romantic partners. Casual sex with women I could definitely conceive of, and co-dependent strongly emotional more than friendships eclipsing all the men entering and leaving through revolving doors. But a healthy, stable, romantic, emotional and sexual partnership with a woman? That seemed impossible to me. 

I worked hard to change that, and opening my mind to it, and to the idea that sometimes, you love more than one person at the same time; This has really helped me accept my feelings, myself, who I am. And as I said, it made my life a lot better. It’s gradually allowed me to develop the confidence to come out to people I trust, friends, colleagues, and to try and find, and even build bi+ communities. It’s been great to meet and talk to other people who don’t fit into narrow categories, and allow themselves not to. 

Wishing you the very best on your journey; thank you for sharing with me; and always here to talk anon