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umbran6 · 3 years ago

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The Argument Against Caleo

Spoilers up to Blood of Olympus and beyond. Beware! (Or not, the book series has been out for a few years, get over it). I wrote this after seeing a user wondering why people didn’t like Caleo, or in some cases, hated it. Here, I want to explain the answer as much as possible while doling out my own points.

One of the main grievances I have as a fan of Leo Valdez would be the ship Caleo, or Leo x Calypso. It’s a complicated ship, to say the least, with multiple issues that make me question why people like the ship. And I admit it, they initially had some chemistry, but there’s multiple issues that Uncle Rick produced through making such a relationship that makes it extremely open to criticism, criticism which I will explain through this post.

One of my main points against them is that the ship was created on a very limited time scale. Although we aren’t given an exact date to date of when Leo and Calypso met to when they fell in love, we can safely estimate it to be a week at best. Such a limited amount of time from going through the multiple stages of a relationship already stresses the limits of the suspension of disbelief.

A counterexample would be Percabeth, or Percy x Annabeth. Throughout the series, we aren’t introduced to them being romantically involved until the Titan’s Curse, which was two years after they met. Specifically, this is brought up by Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself. Admittedly, Percy and Annabeth were twelve years old when they first met, when romance was definitely out of the picture, especially with a quest to get the Master Bolt.

However, from there we get to see multiple examples of their character depth, ranging from their respective fatal flaws to their ambitions, hopes and dreams, and their friendship. We get to see the slow build up of their chemistry, which was a really good writing move on Uncle Rick’s part. These characters took their sweet time to get to where they wanted to go, and despite the false romantic lead of Rachel, they still got together.

On the other hand, we don’t see enough of this between Leo and Calypso — we only see one book where they interacted with each other in The House of Hades, and that was only for a handful of chapters. While they are definitely older so they can jump straight to romance (some may say too old, but I’ll get to that) its still a pretty huge gap to jump through without making it stick. This makes it hard to root for a ship when it is built on a rather faulty foundation from the ‘they just met’ to ‘they get together’, especially when they don’t have a lot of events to show their chemistry.

Which brings me to Ogygia, which has raised a few red flags for me when looking at it from a retrospective point of view. Now, we know what the main issue of the island is that the hero who landed on said island can’t leave until Calypso falls in love with them. And we’ve seen this with Percy during the Battle of the Labyrinth, where he lands in the island and Calypso falls in love with him while tending to his wounds from, you know, being erupted from freaking Mt. St. Helens. Needless to say, this falling in love with each other montage happened quickly to the point of suspicion, which sets up the complication that Calypso and Leo might have fallen in love due to magical intervention.

And hear me out, because although this might be a pretty big pill to swallow, we have evidence for this through Percy. It only takes one chapter for Calypso and Percy to meet, and the next he’s willing to consider leaving Camp Half-Blood and Annabeth behind to live on the island when Hephaestus gives him the choice to leave Ogygia or stay. We don’t even get an explanation on why Percy considered giving it all up just so he can be with her. All we know is, girl meets boy, now they want to live on an isolated island forever. It’s especially absurd considering Percy’s hamartia (fatal flaw) is freaking loyalty to those he loves. Needless to say, It’s a huge YIKES, especially when we apply it to Leo and Calypso.

It also raises the possibility that the romantic relationship between them is doomed to failure. And if you guys want to fight me on this, let’s look at Jason and Piper, a couple whose relationship started with a similar foundation. Piper had romantic memories implanted into her brain by Hera through the use of the Mist, while Jason was reduced to a Tabula Rasa (a blank slate for those who lack culture) by said goddess. They broke up before the Trials of Apollo because it was clear that when the dust settled, Piper had been aware that their romance was a lie and that their intentions to stay together was a mix of delusion and pressure from freaking Aphrodite. Leo and Calypso get together under what is arguably a very similar set of conditions if Ogygia’s magic had any influence on their relationship, and that this magic could wear off if given enough time.

Third, and here’s a pretty big one for me, would be Calypso’s character, mainly because there are a lot of unfortunate implications attached to it. In The Blood of Olympus, she was turned into the divine equivalent of Princess Peach, with Leo being her Mario (except he saves her with a badass metal dragon). Its extremely unnecessary to make a character, especially as one such as Calypso, get turned into the typical reward of a B-Class action movie. It’s insulting and puts her up as a trophy, a narrative that is definitely not ok by any means necessary.

In another direction, Calypso is also really, really worrying when things don’t go get her way. First, let’s look at The Odyssey, the first myth she pops up. Calypso had imprisoned Odysseus for ten years on her island until Hermes said to let him go, and although it gives them plenty of time to fall in love, it also raises the implications of stockholm syndrome. Then we’ve got the fact that Calypso cursed Annabeth out of spite, implicitly saying that she wished the daughter of Athena would suffer the same isolation that she did, which came to reality when Percy and Annabeth met the Arai in Tartarus. And Annabeth wasn’t even aware that she was still in Ogygia, much less intentionally intervened in the matter. When Percy left Ogygia, rather than be angry at Percy, Calypso cursed Annabeth out of all people to suffer the same loneliness and misery she went through. That’s some Hera at her worst levels of spite.

Through such evidence we can see that Calypso is extremely wrathful towards those who break her heart even though they don’t want to. It certainly implies that Calypso isn’t in a good state of mind, and could easily repeat said actions if provoked. We could almost compare it to Medea and the original Jason, but at least in that case, Medea has every right to be pissed off at Jason and take her revenge. Calypso’s curse and how she handles things certainly implies a level of immaturity that would end in disaster if they broke up.

One issue that, I’ll admit is more from my personal point of view is that the ship took a lot of Leo’s character and threw it in the garbage in Blood of Olympus. Though we see him do a lot of stuff behind the scenes, the fact that its all for the goal of reaching Calypso just reduced him to someone who is more focused on love than, you know, fighting the evil goddess that was responsible for killing his mom and getting sweet sweet revenge. While the revenge plot can be cliched sometimes, it can be played well, while romance and the typical ‘always save the girl’ trope is just overdone. If Leo had been allowed to, you know, be more focused on other things rather than Calypso, we could have seen a lot more variety in his character.

For example as one of the possible character arcs he could’ve gone through, Leo has always been alone among the couples, often being isolated. Heck, Nemesis herself stated that he would always be the seventh wheel, and that he would never find a place among his brethren. Though some fellow tumblr users have taken this in multiple ways, either saying that he should learn to be happy by himself or that he is socially isolated in the Argo II because of these romantic relationships (I prefer a mix of both). Uncle Rick just giving him a girlfriend seems like taking the easy way out of solving such an issue and abandoning what could’ve been a rather interesting character arc. The relationship isn’t a bad thing if we remove some of the unfortunate implications, but it is a bad way to end what is a complex and realistic problem for a character and in some cases maybe possible in real life.

One more minor but still yikes worthy point is that there’s a huge age gap between them. We’re not talking about the ‘Hazel is 15 and Frank is 17 and in one year that’ll be a problem because then Hazel will be jailbait’ age gap. And even then, we can argue that Hazel is older since she is chronologically ninety-one years old. No, Calypso is older by millennia in terms of mindset and body due to the perks of being a goddess, while Leo is sixteen.

God-to-Mortal relationships are already complicated, even with emotionally and socially well-functioning adults. The fact that Leo is underage, inexperienced with romance (despite his flirting, Calypso was his first kiss), and has been through a freaking ton of trauma in his youth, does not make this okay. At best, they’re both mutually interested in each other but may have different expectations when it comes to a relationship. At worst, Calypso is taking advantage of a boy just so she can get out of Ogygia and possibly dumping him later on like the wrapping of a candy bar. Even though Calypso lost her immortality during The Trials of Apollo, that doesn’t even compensate for the immense age gap alongside Leo’s guilt at the possibility that he might’ve been responsible for her losing said immortality.

Oh, and about Leo... I’m a fan of him, but I can admit that he is in a bad spot both mentally and emotionally throughout the series. He’s lost his mom due to a mix of his own powers and Gaea’s trickery, and never had the chance to fully process that event and come to terms with it. The foster home system alongside his own trauma has forced him to hide his emotions through a façade of happiness and jokes when it’s quite clear to me he needs a therapist, stat. He's also run away from several foster homes, implying this means he was and still is being affected by the event. His mask is still on during The Blood of Olympus considering he hid a lot of things from Piper and Jason.

Speaking about them, not helping this matter is the fact that he’s rather isolated in terms of friendships since Jason and Piper, his supposed best friends are more interested in locking lip rather than, you know, actually hanging out with each other. He doesn’t have good friendships with the rest of the Seven, and the closest ones he does have is with Hazel and Frank. And even then they start off in the wrong spot since Frank is very insecure about possibly losing Hazel to him during Mark of Athena while Hazel in the meantime, is also dealing with the fact that he is the descendant of her possible boyfriend Sammy Valdez.

This could indirectly have made him desperate for affection since he has nobody else to confide in during the rest of the series, which is a bad mental state to be in when one lands on Ogygia, the island that we’ve seen could possibly force two people to fall in love with each other. A romantic relationship is not something that he needs or something that will help him in the future. He needs more than that, and having him in one that could end in disaster is the last thing he needs.

And that does not make him a bad person, much less a bad character. While some who are similarly emotionally and socially isolated may turn to violence or creepy behavior on those they want affection from, Leo does not do that to the other characters. It just means that he as a character needs more time to recover and develop before we go giving him romantic relationships, much less one with Calypso.

That’s not to say that they don’t have some things in common. Both are starved for love and affection, with Calypso being constantly rejected by heroes while Leo was rejected by foster homes and his own family. It’s a trait that they have in common, but it shouldn’t be the only thing that they have in common, especially since it is laced with a trauma that is clear they haven’t had help processing. They need to develop more as characters and as friends before they should be paired together.

So… yeah. The Caleo relationship is, in my eyes, doomed to failure, or at least heavily flawed after taking the above points into account. Uncle Rick, as if seemingly aware of these criticisms, has put the relationship in a rocky place by The Tower of Nero, giving them the possibility of overcoming the above criticisms and their own flaws, or giving fanfic writers an out and pairing Leo with another character or have him single, but happy. Either way, in my opinion Caleo is a bad ship when it comes to how it was created, alongside the flaws and unfortunate implications it has.

While I can see some of the chemistry the ship has, you can’t just use a couple of moments where they get along as evidence that they belong together, especially with the above reasons. That’s like using a band-aid to cover a bullet hole without removing the bullet, stopping the bleeding, and preventing infection. If both characters and their relationship had been given more time to develop, I would understand how they would get together.

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ikroah · 4 years ago

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The strangest gal I ever had never happy ‘less she’s mad. Oh, I got a woman mean as she can be, sometimes I think she’s almost mean as me. —“Mean Woman Blues,” Elvis Presley (1957)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #16 - Crimson Caravan

Collaborative Issue! Guest Artist: Esseress

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

Girls’ night! Girls’ night!

I want this issue to speak for itself so I’m going to cut right to gratuitously thanking our latest guest artist, Esseress, who did a completely phenomenal on these five pages. We’ve been working on it for a long time and I’m over the moon to finally bring it to you now on this blog. I love writing this comic, and I loved doing the lettering and composition for it, but my goodness do I love Esse’s art. It was a real privilege to have that art as part of It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’, especially since the artist was such an immaculately pleasant collaborator. If you’re reading this, thank you again for such a fun project (and talking about Naruto with me lol).

Original Pencils (click for full size):

This issue was one of my most fun composition challenges yet because something that you want to avoid in comics as much as possible, I think, is talking heads. You want to avoid shots that are static, overly repetitive, and uninteresting. Now the challenge is, how do you do that when your whole comic takes place in a small storeroom and is nothing but a conversation between two characters?

Playing with angles and expressions, and using repetition intentionally with the percussive referent of Agnes cutting into the floorboards, made for some really suspenseful page layouts that complemented the script in a major way. I’m especially proud of the third page, with its quick cutaway to the exterior of the office and the cutting continuing beneath Agnes’ dialogue. Also, did you notice that you only ever see Agnes’ left side this issue? You never get to look her in the eye this issue, and given how cagey she’s acting, that evasiveness was an intentional compositional choice. It was satisfying to pull off, but hear me, it took a lot of planning in the thumbnail stage to pull off well.

The other fun challenge of this issue was lighting. When you’re in a closet a night and don’t want to be seen, how do you see? The delightful answer was to have Agnes actually use that damn flashlight she wears on her shoulder; attentive readers will notice that this is the second time she’s used it in the comic, with the first time being back in Boulder City at the end of Volume 1. Hmm…guys, I wonder if it’s a bad omen that she only seems to turn it on when she’s about to commit or assist in a murder…

Speaking of lighting! One last fun hiccup about this issue was the final page. The script I wrote called for it to transition from night to morning between the first and second panels, but in a case of unforeseen and magnitudinous pedanticism, it was while coordinating the lighting on that page with Esse that I looked up the actual time of sunrise in the Mojave Desert for the time of year this issue takes place, which is November 5th if you’re curious. Turns out the sun shouldn’t be rising until after 7:00 AM, which hardly makes McLafferty the exceptionally early riser her planner says she is. That’s not to say it’s actually 7:00 AM in the comic…go ahead and play the CinemaSins ding for the wrong sunrise time, or whatever. And it’s not like any of you would have known or cared if I didn’t say anything! It was just too weird of a writing quirk to not bring up. The lesson, folks, is to always remember your temporality when writing. It’ll help you sleep a lot easier.

Transcript:

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN, night. The lights are out and everyone in the caravan compound have retired to their barracks for the night. From inside one of the compound buildings comes a soft sound.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

INT. CRIMSON CARAVAN OFFICE. AGNES SANDS is bent over on the floor of a storeroom, carving into the wooden floor with her bootknife. ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY leans against the door behind her.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: So…have you ever killed anyone before?

AGNES continues cutting into the floor without looking at CASS as she speaks.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: And I don’t mean a raider or fiend or something, nothing in self-defense. I mean in cold blood.

CASS: You mean like you killed those Khans?

(NOTE: *IKROAH #14—Lou.)

CASS: Hmmm…no, I guess I haven’t. When it comes to bloody vengeance just for myself…

CASS: …be gentle, it’s my first time.

AGNES doesn’t react to CASS’ joke. CASS becomes equally serious.

CASS: …I’d imagine this ain’t your first rodeo, the way you asked.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: I mean…this Benny guy, in Vegas. When we catch him, which notch on your blood-spattered bedpost is he?

AGNES stops cutting into the floor, raising her knife. CASS’s expression tightens with concern. The silence is uncomfortable.

AGNES: Second.

CASS: Oh, thank God.

AGNES: What?

CASS: No offense, but the way you got all serious, I worried for a second you might be some kind of serial killer nutjob.

AGNES: No, no, I’m sorry. I was just…thinking. I really know how to meet the wrong men, apparently.

CASS (smiling): Dead men, right?

AGNES frowns. Her knife plunges back into the wooden floor.

SFX: SKRITCH, SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Wanna talk about it?

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Not like we have anything else to do.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: I really don’t.

CASS: Fine. That said, though, I did imagine this whole revenge thing being a bit more…exciting. Can’t say I like being stuck in a closet.

AGNES (smirking): You get used to it.

CASS: Why, though? You picked the lock to her fucking office like a cheap office toy. Why not break into her barracks and we shoot the bitch now?

AGNES: First, because that’s a great way to get us both killed.

AGNES keeps cutting as she speaks, deeper and deeper into the floor.

AGNES: Second, you want her to know it was you, so we have to get her awake and alone.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Third, her planner on her desk confirmed what I already suspected—that she’s an early riser—so we’ll see her sooner rather than later, while the rest of the company is still asleep.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Fourth, we want to send a message to everyone else. So it has to be at least a little spectacular.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH...

CASS: Oh…you’ve really thought this through.

SFX: SKRIT-

AGNES stops cutting. She slowly lifts her knife out of the floor.

AGNES: Yeah.

CASS: Where’d a medic get so good at murder?

AGNES rises from bending over the floor to a kneeling position, turning back towards CASS and frowning.

CASS: Sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about that, either.

AGNES: Maybe another time. For now…

AGNES leans back, kneeling over an intricate cross-hatch, about three feet in radius, of deep cuts and gouges into the floorboards in front of her.

AGNES: …just trust me.

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN. Night turns to early morning, and ALICE McLAFFERTY, the boss of the caravan, walks up the steps of her office and enters.

AGNES (from inside, whispering): Alright. Now. Quickly.

From inside her office, a door is kicked open.

SFX: DTHUMP

ALICE: What the hell, who are you—!?

CASS: Rose of Sharon goddamn Cassidy, of Cassidy fucking Caravans, you bitch!

ALICE: No, you’re—

SFX: KABLAM

The sound of a shotgun going off in the middle of the compound wakes up the whole caravan. Crows scatter from the courtyard while guards start rushing towards the office door.

AGNES: Alright, now let’s go! Shoot the floor here where I—

SFX: KABLAM

The guards close in on the office while wooden shrapnel falls from a new hole in the floorboards of the office, and AGNES and CASS drop through to the ground outside, and crawl away from the caravan guards under the hut just as they reach the McLAFFERTY’s front door.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #alice mclafferty #crimson caravan #volume 02 #16 #ikroah archive

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sukiglycerin · 4 years ago

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dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)

* pairing: accompanist/violinist!katsuki bakugou x violinist!reader (gender neutral!) ft kamijirou

* genre: fluff, kinda angst, enemies to lovers, classical musician au hehe

* words: 9.5k (holy crap, this was a rollercoaster to write)

* warnings: swearing bc not only does bakugou exist, he is a prominent character, brief viola/second violinist jokes (reader’s words not mine), poor rosins being dropped :(

* a/n: SO this is very late for @prettysetterbaby‘s v-day collab!! pls check out all the other talented writers involved >< jj is an ANGEL for putting up with me being late T_T there’s some violin terminology in here but it’s fine if you don’t understand it! more notes at the end aha

* playlist (spotify in source link): violin sonata no.9, op.47 in a major “kreutzer” (beethoven) ; liebesfreud (kriesler) ; violin partita no.3 in e major (bach) ; duo concertante for 2 violins no.3 in d-sharp major, op.57 (beriot) ; clair de lune (debussy) ; duo for 2 violins in d-major, op.67, no.2 (spohr) ; 24 caprices op.1, no.24 in a minor (paganini)

* synopsis: being a soloist is not made easy by your new accompanist, bakugou. you step on each other’s toes when playing - but that’s alright, he’s just a pianist. you’re separated in your two worlds of musical instruments, until one day, you’re not. bakugou traverses over realms like a simple string crossing, and there’s a lot more he’s brought with him.

a double stop in violin is a technique in which two notes are played simultaneously. played correctly, one violin playing two notes should sound like two violins playing separate notes. if your life was a violin, you only needed double stops to play it. you'd perfected the art of being alone, playing the parts of two in your sad solo sonata. you were so, so sure you could compose and play for the whole orchestra - a symphony that would surely please the audience.

you were wrong. after all, a double stop has its limits as well, impossible to play with an interval of larger than a tenth. you were content with your double stops and playing by yourself. this was how you won countless competitions - what good would changing anything be?

you were born a soloist, or that's what your parents would say. you never followed the crowd, sticking to your own mind and doing what was true to you. you never worked well in an orchestra setting (and who knew what would become of you if you ever landed in second violin!). thus, you became a soloist, determined to keep the spotlight on you. it was you and your perfection that kept the eyes of the audience transfixed; you were desperate to keep their focus enraptured by every slight movement of your bow, every shift in finger position on the fingerboard. you wanted them to follow every dynamic and tempo change like their life depended on it, feel their emotion spark the moment your bow pressed a string. you were the only one on stage, an entertainer and an artist to the audience. you brought joy and sorrow through key changes and wonder through glissandos and held suspense with every tremolo. the audience was yours for an entire piece, for a story, for a lifetime.

oh, and there was the accompanist. what was his name again? batsugou? bakugou. the last part was a joke, of course. you'd never forget the man who ruined your first recital overseas.

katsuki bakugou was quickly made your accompanist after the previous one quit last minute and schedule clashes between any other potential candidates rendered them unable to travel with you. no one in their right mind would've come along on a plane to play a piano accompaniment for you. indeed, bakugou was not in his right mind. his name was prominent locally, an orchestral prodigy with the gift of perfect pitch since the tender age of thirteen. he never ventured internationally, though given the chance multiple times to do so. you could never understand why he never took any of the opportunities. you'd jump at any chance of expanding your musical horizons and performing for a larger audience, so it frustrated you to see someone with such potential to throw away possibly beneficial opportunities. not that you really paid much attention to him, anyway. bakugou was a pianist, and you were a violinist. you only cared about competition, not those with blessings you could only dream of achieving.

the months leading to your recital, bakugou had gone quiet. well, you didn't know him personally, so it was news of him that had gone practically radio silent. he was no longer featured in news articles or even pinned on bulletin boards for upcoming recitals. there were no updates from him on social media, too. not that you really paid attention, anyway. he was a prodigy, gifted naturally with talent, and you were a violinist.

an ambitious violinist, at that. you had dreams to perform anywhere out of the stifling air of japan. even to fly a short distance to south korea would be amazing, because it meant you'd be outside of japan. you worked towards this goal tirelessly. you dreamed of stepping on a plane, violin case in your right hand and your dreams in another, to fly to another country and perform. you wished to see the talent beyond your own bubble and feel the music resonate in an auditorium in a different way than it did in japan.

one day, that dream was realized. your violin case in one hand and dreams in another, you boarded the plane flying out of japan full of hope and the faith that good days were coming. while yes, you didn't expect to step out of that plane with anyone but your old accompanist, momo, bakugou's presence comforted you in the foreign atmosphere. for the first ten minutes, he said not a word to you but made it a point to speak to everyone else he could in what seemed like very convincingly fluent english.

to which you finally mustered up the courage to say, in japanese, "i thought you didn't travel internationally."

his japanese voice was a comforting sound. "i don't. this is my first time out of japan."

you stared at him like he just said he ate babies for breakfast (which seemed just as astronomically insane as him never stepping foot out of japan).

"but-" you stuttered. "your english is so good?"

"only because you can't understand it."

to be fair, he had a point. you could only say the basics, like, "hi," "how are you?", "i'm fine, and you?," and the ever-so useful, "do you speak japanese? my english is not good." he appeared to never use any of these phrases, so he was a god in english compared to you.

it was a miracle you navigated out of the airport with your luggage in hand and a general idea of how to get to the hotel you'd booked. you're not going to talk about the events in the hotel, though. sharing a bed with bakugou was a whole different story that consisted of him complaining about your phone usage at eleven pm and you complaining about his lack of sufficient english skills to be able to get the right hotel room (which he'd retort by saying "at least i speak english!").

the path to your first international competition was rocky, so understandably by the day of the performance, your metaphorical feet were sore and you only had water on your metaphorical mind. that is to say, you hadn't practiced with bakugou once until the day before the performance. said rehearsal was cut short due to misunderstandings as a result of bakugou's apparent not-so-fluency in english. you felt bad for him at this point.

and then you were up on stage, violin in one hand, bow in the other, and arms full of your childhood aspirations. also, definitely not prepared enough. you glanced once at bakugou before beginning and he looked confident enough. the lesson you learned that day was that looks can be deceiving.

something you could remember quite clearly was the way the spotlight shined on the varnish of your instrument as you held it, propped between your chin and shoulder. you focused on this shine before taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, and praying muscle memory would take over and you'd play the piece faithfully to the score.

you liked to think your playing was accurate. you, the soloist, were the main focus of the piece. the accompaniment made the piece richer and fuller, complementing the violin beautifully while keeping attention on said violin. the thing was, bakugou, like you, played like a soloist.

the performance was like a fight, and sadly not the graceful kind you'd see in a ballet. it was gory and a nuance to the ears, melodic tinkling of the piano becoming tears of a soldier dying in combat. at parts, you clashed by overshadowing the other by playing too loudly. sometimes it was you, and sometimes it was bakugou. it was a merciless game of tag; bakugou would be running to keep up with your playing; once achieving so, you were forced to start chasing after him. you can't exactly remember if he played well, though. for certain, he was not in sync with you, but you were mainly too preoccupied with your own playing to pay attention to his. listening to the recording of the performance, you were unable to evaluate his quality of playing properly, and thus, he remained your accompanist even when you returned to japan.

(actually, the biggest reason he stayed your accompanist was because of your classical musician friends' nagging. they were all in complete awe that the famous soloist, katsuki bakugou, had offered to be your accompanist, and begged for an autograph. of course, you declined.)

you figured that like you, bakugou was a soloist. he wasn't fit to assist your playing, far more suited to his own solos to entrance the audience with only his playing. being a soloist, he played like one too - that's simply how things worked. this understanding of him, though, still couldn't stop you from harbouring a small grudge against him for ruining your international debut.

and then there was the man himself, all standoffish and rough in words and persona. obscenities had no hesitation coming (thrust!) from his mouth. he yelled brashly and frequently and it astonished you that he was a classical musician, as most of your friends of the classical music profession were typically on the quiet, softer spoken side. those that were extroverts were optimistically so, in far contrast to bakugou, who you'd expect from looks alone to be playing in some heavy metal band. it was scary to hear his renditions of debussy's dreamy, serendipitous pieces when over your earbuds, he was yelling at some guy named "shitty hair" on his phone. you were curious how he looked recording the piece.

you didn't typically communicate, though. conversation, which only ever existed during rehearsal, was a question from you and a clipped grunt in response. there was nothing else to your relation; he played his part, and you played yours. sometimes you did this simultaneously, but it was as if you were playing two completely different things. performance, according to your friends, was now stilted. this was partially the reason you stopped listening to recorded performances. it wasn’t even like you’d ever derived pleasure from listening to them - you only nitpicked your mistakes.

your old accompanist, momo, on the other hand, was an absolute angel. she was kind, polite, and skilled on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like a graceful ballet. you fit well with her; each performance was like a delightful conversation between friends, pleasant on the ears and twinkling with joy and laughter. with her, every performance felt like something resembling victory, even if it wasn’t a competition. to you, winning the audience’s gaze was enough.

then again, you didn't feel that you could judge quite yet. momo was your accompanist for years, and you could barely remember how the two of you sounded when you first started out. bakugou had been your accompanist for mere months (though it did feel much, much longer considering how frustrating he could be). you couldn't understand why he became your accompanist at all.

opposites. it was an accurate representation of your relationship with bakugou. he was a pianist, you weren't. he was a prodigy, you weren't. he was blessed with talent, you weren't. there was nothing to talk to him about, obviously, because of these dividing factors.

the longer you knew him, the more your disdain for the man grew. at rehearsals, it always felt like your performances were about him, him, and him. he was the star piano player, of course. he hadn't volunteered to be your accompanist as a sense of "stepping down"; no, no, rather, he was flaunting his piano playing with a violin playing in the background. he played perfectly. for a soloist.

as time passed, these frustrations with him became more and more apparent. you became acutely aware of how his performance would outshine your own, and it sickened you. slowly, the quality of your own performances took a nosedive. if the piece was originally pianissimo, you'd take it up to piano (then, if bakugou increased his volume, forte). if the tempo was andante and he was playing moderato, you'd play allegro. it was a competition at this point - instigated by him, of course. you were just upping the ante, even if it meant sacrificing your own artistry.

a lot of people warned you of what would happen, but you ignored them. the fierce competition you felt between you and bakugou caused your own downfall as a musician. slowly, gigs stopped trickling in, like a faucet being shut off. you blamed this on bakugou. ("i was international before him. now, i can barely get a gig in musutafu! why does everyone think he's so great?" you had fumed over the phone to jirou, your old roommate from university. she asked you if you had even listened to him play.)

you were scrambling for places to perform at this point. (“fire him,” the very unhelpful hagakure told you. you didn’t know what you were thinking when you asked her, a violist in a local orchestra. it wasn’t like she ever got a solo.) you’d seriously considered doing so, but came up empty when looking for another accompanist. online forums and friends’ connections could only do so much. they were all either unavailable during rehearsal schedules or inadequate in terms of adapting to the music given.

“you need to try working together with him,” jirou advised you one day over the phone.

“yeah, say that to yourself and kaminari,” you muttered bitterly under your breath. kaminari was a guitarist in jirou’s band who hadn’t quite gotten along with jirou well. jirou made fun of the lightning bolt streak in his hair. when you first met them, all they did was bicker day and night; now, according to the other guitarist, tokoyami, they still did this, though on a smaller scale.

she heard you. “well,” jirou said, slightly ticked off, “we get along better now. because of communication. look- i’m not saying you need to be best friends with bakugou or anything, but you need to talk to him about what’s working and what’s not. respect him as another musician, y’know?”

“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly.

you heard a muffled yell from the other side of the call. “kaminari, you idiot!” jirou called, voice a bit far. “what did i tell you about plugging in the amp? i said not to-” she cut herself off. “sorry, y/n, i need to go now. kaminari’s back to his normal antics.” she sighed, but it sounded more endeared than irritated. the call ended.

respect bakugou as another musician. you could do that. bakugou was only a pianist. you were a violinist. he was your accompanist. he was to support your playing. you’d forever be separated from him, doing your own thing. he, certainly, couldn’t understand the woes of being a violinist. not the intonation nor the techniques; you were sure that if you handed him a violin on the spot, he wouldn’t be able to even hold the bow properly. the notion of bakugou, piano prodigy, struggling to make a decent sound on the violin with a bow clenched in an ungainly grip deeply amused you.

these thoughts kept your relationship with bakugou afloat and restrained you from strangling him every time he stepped a toe out of line during rehearsals. ploddingly, with as minimal communication as you could manage, you tried to play with bakugou together, as a duet rather than as two soloists playing simultaneously. you swallowed your pride to play accurately to the music, patiently explaining any qualms you had with bakugou’s playing.

eventually, you found yourself building up your performances to the quality they had once been with momo. it was still far from the pristine playing that led you to an international invite - but it was an improvement, and that was all that mattered to you. innately, you were slightly ashamed of the thoughts that allowed you to keep working with bakugou. they were thoughts that told of your superiority to him, because he was playing piano for you. that’s all he was; an accompaniment to you. you told yourself that having these thoughts on the inside was better than fighting with bakugou.

somehow, along the strings of notes slurred together and shifts of fingers from one spot on a string to the next, you found yourself experiencing a strange joy gliding your bow against the strings of your violin. the rich sound of your instrument, withering and blooming with every stroke of vibrato you performed, fulfilled you unlike how it ever had before. up until now, you’d been playing for the audience, rather than yourself. the melody reverberating in the hollow body of your violin was never for your own ears to enjoy, it was for the audience’s satisfaction and listening pleasure. for it was their own enjoyment that won you competition after competition, playing with a blank face. on some occasions, you’d open your eyes during the applause to see some audience members crying, which ultimately confused you. how you were able to draw emotions from them with your playing when the music was unable to render you anything but indifferent?

you knew it in yourself, though, that the happiness you felt was hollow. delightful notes supposed to boast joy and love echoed in the rehearsal room, falling flat on your ears.

you were a soloist, though. you couldn’t let thoughts like these get to you. you could only play, for both your pride and your audience. these woes were for you to shoulder, on top of the violin you held between your chin and collarbone.

“you’re here early,” bakugou commented one day, opening the door to your shared rehearsal room. tucked under one arm was his folder of sheet music. he caught you in the middle of practicing one of the pieces for a gig - liebesfreud, by fritz kreisler.

it was true. the morning sun basked the window sill and laminate flooring, warming the particular spots it shone through. you’d arrived an hour or so early. pleased by the bright nature of the morning, you pulled up the blinds. typically, you ran late, arriving ten minutes after bakugou’s text of “you’re late again, idiot” with a coffee and a bagel in your hands. those mornings, you were really grateful for having a case with backpack straps. if you hadn’t the time to eat your bagel on the way to rehearsal, it was cold and hard by the time you had a lunch break.

thankfully, today was not one of those days. whether it was the sun or the title of the piece (“love’s joy,” how wonderful), you’d woken up and decided that today, you’d have a warm and soft bagel for breakfast. you had a coupon for a free coffee and surprisingly, the commute to rehearsals was more punctual than usual. thus, you arrived an hour early, a smile on your face as you opened the door. you opened your case with extra care and rosined your bow with extra zest, humming a tune you heard playing on the radio. bakugou would’ve had a heart attack had he saw you then.

you ignored his entrance, only peeping one eye open at the man and nodding your head toward the piano as you continued on with the piece. you allowed yourself to become immersed in the music, following the soft pace bakugou set in his playing. closing your eyes, you saw the audience before you and felt your fingers sliding and pressing the strings. time flew while playing the piece; you’d barely noticed that the piece was nearing its end, playing its familiar melody one last time before opening your eyes. a glance at the rosin dusted in between the bridge and fingerboard of your violin satisfied you, like salt on caramel. you surely played just as sweet, smooth and saccharine like the gooey texture of a caramel confection. you relished in the sunlight streaming through into the room, ignoring the shuffling of papers behind you (from bakugou, no doubt). that was how you should play.

“something’s off,” you blearily opened your eyes to the sound of bakugou’s gruff voice. he was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in a not atypical manner.

“what,” you said flatly. “it sounded fine to me. i didn’t mess up or anything.”

“no,” he replied, deep in thought, crimson eyes darkening a shade. “we don’t have proper… emotion in the music.”

“huh?” you felt a comical question mark rising out of your head. “i played it perfectly to score. it conveys the composer’s emotions to a t,” you said, getting annoyed with the pianist. your grip tightened on your violin’s neck.

“well- yeah,” he gritted his teeth. “but what about your emotions?”

“who cares about my emotions?” you said. “all that matters is that my playing is perfect. the audience feels the emotions, not me.” why else had you been plucked into violin lessons when you were five? surely not for your own enjoyment.

“idiot, that’s definitely not how it is.”

“it’s just violin playing!” you snapped. “it’s not complicated with- with emotions! it’s the same as anything else!”

“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.

“what would you understand?” you seethed. “you’re just a damn pianist. you follow my lead.”

he ignored your remarks. “why do you play a fucking instrument, then? why bother to enter competitions or recitals?”

“to win, like any other normal person!”

he let out a clipped, exasperated breath. “fuckin’ explains it, then.” he didn’t elaborate. dismissing the topic, he said, “whatever. play the piece from the top. actually try to look at me this time, so we can stay together. put more emphasis on the downbeat at the start.”

“it’s not like you even heard me play the beginning,” you retorted, but made sure to accent that note even more during the replay. pianists. they always were on their high horses.

something you looked forward to every year was the valentine’s recital. the organizers, an old couple, had known you since you were a child, and thus developed a soft spot for you. you were a shoo-in for the event, relied on to learn the music on a short deadline. last year, you played preludio, from bach’s partita for violin no. 3. this year, though, the catch was weird.

“the letter says it’s a violin duet?” you said to jirou while video calling her. “i don’t have a violinist on hand, just a pianist. it’s not like bakugou can suddenly master violin.”

jirou looked at you with a surprised expression. “you don’t know?”

you stared back at her. “know what?”

“he plays violin, too.”

“huh?” you must’ve misheard her.

she nodded. “he’s pretty good, too. have you not seen the videos?”

“videos?" your eyes widened as you soon realized the implications of bakugou harbouring an aptitude for violin. "i’ve… i’ve got to go.”

“he’s as good as you, y/n,” jirou said with a knowing smile. you were quick to press the hang up button.

five seconds into teenage bakugou’s rendition of one of paganini’s caprices, you exited youtube.

the next day, you kicked open the door to the practice room.

“you,” you pointed a finger at bakugou, who sat at the piano midway through a piece.

“what is it now, dumbass? you’re late again.”

“shut up,” you grumbled. “that’s beside the point. you- you play violin?!”

he shrugged, not avoiding your piercing gaze. “i’ve dabbled in it, yes.”

you shut the door behind you. “and why did you never tell me?!”

“tch. you never asked, did you?”

“you’re my accompanist, i should know these things!”

“you know i play piano, and that’s enough,” bakugou said stubbornly. “i only play piano with you.”

“not anymore.” setting your violin case down, you shuffled through the pocket that held your sheet music. flipping out a packet of sheet music, you thrust it in bakugou’s direction. “here.”

he grabbed the sheets from you, skimming the title. “duo for two violins in…. fuck,” he muttered. “why didn’t you just say no? who even is this from?”

“valentine’s recital. the pay’s good, bakugou, and we need it.”

“you need it,” he mumbled bitterly, holding the sheets out for you. “i don’t.”

“it’s not like i’m happy about it either. since when were you a violinist?”

“since when was it any of your damn business?”

"you're supposed to be my pianist! not anything else!"

you didn’t understand how he could be so musically inclined. you blinked, and your sight smeared, blurring the sight of your feet with the laminate flooring. this wasn't right, you thought as you felt a telltale heat creeping up you. why were you crying now?

if there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your violin playing. it seemed to be the only thing you were good at as a child when academics and athletics failed you. sure, you hated it at first (as most children did when their parents forced them to do something), but as time went on, the applause of the audience and the title of "winner" rewarded you enough. you were no prodigy, so you worked endlessly every day to prove yourself worthy. you never understood how you'd worked so hard only to be in the shadows of others so naturally gifted who surely would never understand how much you practiced to become better.

when it came to bakugou, he was never supposed to be better. he was your pianist, talented in a completely different musical realm than your own, so he could never be superior to you - and now he wasn't. he never was. here you were for the past year or so, looking like a fool in bakugou's eyes. on the days you struggled so hard with fourth finger vibrato, he was probably laughing at your inadequacy at violin. as easily as he played the violin, katsuki bakugou played you like a fool.

everything collided when you stepped out of the room, leaving a particular golden haired boy alone to stare at the sheet music you tossed him. your head throbbed with the groggy sensation of almost-tears and anger coursed through your veins.

you couldn't back out of the recital now. you couldn't.

you couldn't stand to look back into the vermillion eyes of katsuki bakugou now. even more so now, you couldn't.

your solution?

"hey, what's up?" jirou's collected voice filled your ear, your phone pressed to it.

"hey, kyo, i… kind of did a bad thing," you said, feeling jittery as you sought a commute home. you'd already made up your mind that your sorry-ass wouldn't be able to look bakugou back in the face for the rest of the day.

"...again?" she asked, tone concealing a hint of surprise. "don't tell me it was with bakugou. don't you usually practice now?"

"...usually, yes…" you sheepishly shuffled your feet, standing outside on the sidewalk. "i'll be resuming it again, 'course, when i get home…"

"why aren't you with bakugou right now?"

"that's… that's a long story," you laughed nervously.

"i can wait," jirou coolly replied. "kaminari got his foot stuck in his guitar case - don't ask - so i have time."

you considered asking about kaminari, then thought better of it.

"you know about the valentine's day recital they have every year? well, this year…" you recounted the events that led you to now, standing outside on the phone with jirou.

"where are you going to find a violinist?"

a silence found itself opportune as jirou waited for an answer. "i'm, uh, not…?" you said, deflecting the question back to jirou.

"well, you can't play both parts in the duet, can you? actually, don't answer that. i know you'd try. didn't you try that one time in-"

"what's done in uni stays in uni," you hushed her before she could recall that one time you tried to play a sonata with a recording of yourself. "aren't you going to tell me to try to make amends with bakugou?"

"no," she said thoughtfully after a pause. "you've tried before, and it's not working for you. i don't think you should be forced to do something you obviously don't want to do. i just think," she continued, "you need to find someone to do the duet with, if you don't want to work with bakugou. but objectively, he's your best bet."

as jirou always was, she was right. you thanked her for her advice not before hearing a distraught kaminari shouting for jirou in the background, and then she ended the call.

you repeated her words in your head once you got home, sliding your bow back and forth on your small block of worn rosin. the score for the duet was spread next to you on the floor. it wasn't that you didn't want to work with bakugou. or was it? had you been that selfish all along, sabotaging other performances because you didn't like him? if even jirou had noticed it, had bakugou noticed it too?

your sigh let out a thousand burdens piled up in your mind, blowing air out like dust accumulating on your tribulations. you picked up your violin and bow thoughtlessly, testing out the strings and plucking a couple with your left hand.

was it really only you with the contempt for working with bakugou? you'd assumed mutual hatred with him after your international debut, but had it really been so? had you been the only one picking fights during the time you'd worked together? as you backtracked, your fingers slipped into a familiar position. you began a piece you knew positively by heart, an absolute favorite of yours for years. you played mindlessly, serenading yourself with familiar notes and string fingerings as you thought long and hard about bakugou. how much shit had you given bakugou? he hardly complained, too, but why? why hadn't he quit after you'd been so ceaselessly difficult with him?

why were you so angry at bakugou, a gifted prodigy since childhood? the answer found itself as the composition descended into an array of complicated fingerings and string changes, sounding like an incoherent chaos somehow strung together by the music. you pretended you didn't know the answer.

it was much, much easier to leave bakugou as just a pianist. respectable in his own field, and incomparable to you. it was too good to be true, obviously. all your life, you played to win, and couldn't allow anyone else to surpass you. violin was about winning, winning, winning. how were you supposed to cope when all those hours of practice were easily overcome by someone with innate talent?

the piece eased your tension with a fermata, drawing out your vibrato to think. bakugou's perfection infuriated you, you concluded. knowing this, though, didn't help with anything. you almost screeched the last note as the composition came to an end, unsettled by thoughts of bakugou. you really couldn't stand him.

in an attempt to distract yourself from your dilemma, you decided to start practicing the recital composition. you pulled out an old portable music stand, bending the parts into place and stacking it up. carefully, you placed the sheets on the stand and skimmed over the music, bringing your violin up to your collarbone.

your eyes followed one measure ahead of what you were playing as you sight-read the piece. ahead, ahead, was all you could think as your fingers fumbled the notes, eyes moving from the score to the fingerboard. bakugou was far from your mind as you caught up to the music, too preoccupied with the sharps and flats you'd forgotten and the time you had to keep. you were busied by the shifts and the repeat signs in the music over anything else. your priority lay here for the time being, after all. the sight-reading was almost enough to make you forget you only play one half to a duet. there was still still an emptiness that lurked between the rests and the redundant beats that even your stilted practice couldn't mask. you tried not to worry about that, though.

time floated by as you repeated the piece over and over, playing for accuracy first. it wasn't enough, but you pretended it was. the metronome on your phone ticked away like time, endless and impatient, until you couldn't stand it anymore and packed away your violin.

the proceeding day was filled with more of the same practicing, working on tweaking hesitations and polishing up your playing. it was kind of convenient, practicing at home rather than waking up early to practice with bakugou. you missed the bagel the most.

you were definitely not playing your best, and it was clear by the way your bow occasionally screeched and how you fumbled the fingerings when you were particularly negligent. the piece just didn't sound right without the second part. (bakugou was definitely not the second part missing. not at all.)

by the third day you gave up and admitted to yourself that yes, bakugou was the second part missing. you were only a little bit miserable buying your usual bagel and coffee and rushing to rehearsals fifteen minutes late, aware that you'd be unable to eat it before practice. you were substantially less miserable than how you were the day previous, practicing alone.

you weren't surprised to see bakugou already there, sitting on the piano bench and tightening his bow hairs. he acknowledged you with a grunt as you set down your breakfast and beverage.

"showed up, huh?" he said finally, voice rough. he stood up, setting his sheet music on a stand. you stared at him, awed by his nonchalance. he picked up his violin and bow (which, by the way, looked super expensive) and propped his violin up by his chin. it felt so foreign to see him in position to play violin, fingers already expertly in first position and wrist beautifully curved, yet it inexplicably clicked. the scene in front of you looked like he'd done this everyday, as it was always supposed to have been, his back confidently straight. his fingers arched over the fingerboard and his bow appeared mathematically parallel to the bridge, held delicately between his fingers. you'd never carefully watched him play piano (probably due to your distaste to him and lack of knowledge about the percussion instrument), but he made the violin look like an instrument of the gods. he hesitated, though, bow moving a centimeter then back. he frowned at your idle silence and turned back to you. "well? are we doing this duet or not?"

"oh," you reacted intelligently. "yeah. yeah." it kicked in what you were doing by the time you'd started tuning your violin, first bowing your a string. after tuning your violin (with the help of a tuning fork and none from the perfect-pitched bastard bakugou, who appeared to be watching you with a triumphant gleam in his eyes as you struggled to tune your violin properly), you set your sheet music next to bakugou's.

"ready?" you asked, as if you'd been the one waiting for bakugou all this time.

"ask yourself that," he snorted. "i'll do the count."

you nodded.

"one, two, three, f-"

"wait, wait," you said, squinting at your music. "isn't it supposed to be a bit slower than that?"

"it says allegro," bakugou said, tapping his foot. "need an italian lesson? lively, briskly."

"i know what allegro means," you gritted. "seems too fast, when paired with dolce."

"maybe for you," he smirked.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "and that means what, exactly?"

he opened his mouth to reply some smug, smart-ass answer, but you stopped him.

"nevermind," you said. "do the count again, at the same tempo. i can do it."

you were bluffing, of course. since when was allegro this fast? you wondered as the opening notes sped by you in a musical blur. already familiar with the melody, you messed up dynamics the most. of crescendos and diminuendos? it wasn't like bakugou would notice, too preoccupied with his part.

the ending of the piece took your breath away, storming toward you in a whirlwind. adrenaline filled your veins as you raced to the last measure of the music, overcome by the tempo and the music. this time, full of energy and exhilaration, the piece felt complete. your and bakugou's sound surrounded the two of you, overflowing the room with a saccharine melody. it felt right simply standing beside him playing a two part piece, chest heaving from the piece's energy. you could only hear your breathing, a gentle encore to your playing.

"your playing is sloppy," bakugou said bluntly. he leaned over to your sheet music, starting to point at dynamic markings.

you swatted his hand away before he could say a word. "yeah, well, i just got the music three days ago," you interjected.

"you also had two of the three days off, so i'd say you're not doing enough." he glanced back down at your score. he pointed at a measure. "this is a crescendo, moron, why didn't you get much louder?"

"just- pay attention to your own music!" you said. "besides, it's dolce. i can get away with playing softer."

"that wasn't very dolce to me," he argued. "nothing sweet, soft, or gentle about that," he mumbled.

"i can be sweet, soft, and gentle if i want to!" you retorted.

he raised a brow, as if a challenge, scarlet eyes glinting in the light. "tch. i'm sure you can, but your playing damn can't."

“it can, too! listen,” you said, impetuously raising your violin and bow again. you slowly started to play a d major scale, impatiently scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on making the music soft and gentle, tampering with different degrees of vibrato and bow pressure.

“... that’s just piano,” bakugou said, moving to you as you bowed an a. your bow came to an abrupt halt, making an unpleasant squeal, as bakugou positioned himself behind you. you felt his body warmth radiating behind you as a sweet, homely scent wafted around you. he brought his arms around you, hands overlapping where you held your violin and bow.

“you need to be,” he murmured into your ear, gentle tone almost slurring the words together, "fragile when you play dolce." he angled your bow slightly, moving your hand. "bow closer to the fingerboard." the smooth baritone of his voice resonated within you, becoming lost within the violinist's embrace.

"most of all," he said, dropping an octave to an intimate tone, "you need to feel it. you can attempt to play it, but without feeling, it's fuckin’ meaningless."

"feeling?" you repeated blankly. “the audience’s, you mean.”

he stepped away, a gesture that made you breathless, and shook his head. he crossed his arms over his chest, unintentionally accentuating their volume. “your damn feelings. what do you feel when playing the piece?”

there’s a pause for perhaps a second too long, as you mulled over different answers in your head.

“tch.” his eyes don’t leave you, gaze a laser burning into you. “‘s what i thought. why do you play violin?”

you held your tongue from answering my parents. “to win. i play to win,” you stated.

“and that’s the damn problem,” bakugou said, releasing a breath of frustrated air. “you win to play.”

“that means…?” you were starting to get impatient with the man, who seemed to be stalling and dragging out your limited time.

“you win competitions to play more.”

you almost scoffed, but his words were plausible. “what’s the purpose in playing more if not to win?”

he made a scratching noise in his throat, cool demeanor shifting to that of the bakugou you knew. “l-l-” he coughed, “love.”

“love?” you repeated, the word a surprise to swallow.

he nodded, gagging on his reply. you couldn’t see bakugou as the romantic type - the same bakugou who called all of his friends demeaning nicknames and could barely say the word love out loud. he was explosive, maybe, and talented, sure - but acquainted with love? you pursed your lips at the stuttering man trying to advise you.

“whatever,” he dismissed, voice oddly hoarse. “just play it from the top. fix the dynamics.”

weeks passed in a blur, though bakugou’s advice was left unforgotten. it had, for the most part, faded from your mind but lingered like a ghost in an abandoned attic, stirring up dust in complete silence. it was valid criticism on bakugou’s part, but the problem was that it was criticism you couldn’t digest. it was a ghost that you could not rid of, whispering and lurking until your music played over it.

four weeks before the performance, you had the piece almost entirely memorized other than a few flukes here and there. you managed most of your dynamics, playing in sync with bakugou by your side. three weeks and the piece was mostly smooth, foregoing all sheet music and practicing in the middle of the room with bakugou tapping out the tempo on the honeyed floor. any mistakes were recovered from quickly, and you were pleased to say that the amount of bakugou’s slip-ups equated to yours. at two weeks, though, he brought up the pest bugging your mind.

“play with more emotion,” he sighed exasperatedly, letting out a huff as you played for him. “start on f sharp again.”

you’d tried time and time again, but the longer you’d replayed the same few measures (followed by his criticism for the nth time), the only emotion you felt was frustration. your bow would push too hard or your vibrato would lay on thick, immensely irritating bakugou. you didn’t know why he even tried.

the air felt stale and the lights shone obnoxiously bright. the pads of your left hand fingers had hardened by now, indented with a pair of parallel lines from your unforgiving violin strings. you inhaled rosin dust and occasional bow hairs miserably dropped to the floor. your arms were tired, sore, and sick of playing; your ears painfully endured the same tune again and again, the originally fluid and sweet notes becoming high frequency static.

“i can’t do this.” you were tempted to flop onto the ground, hopelessness pouring over you.

“you can,” bakugou insisted stubbornly. “you just need to try harder.”

“harder?” you would’ve snapped (and you were surprised your e string didn’t already by the repetitive motions on it) if you weren’t so exhausted from rehearsing.

he nodded like it was obvious. “try harder.”

you shakily inhaled, trying to smooth your voice over. “i’m sorry i can’t be a prodigy like you.”

he stiffened, tense to the point of trembling. “whatever,” and it was a strained word pulled from his mouth. it was very atypical for him to give up like this, but you didn't care. you avoided his eyes as you restarted the piece, unable to bloom anything from it.

outside of your rehearsal time, you practiced. arguably, your solo rehearsals were more rigorous. you forced yourself to add emotion to the piece, sometimes playing for jirou. she agreed with bakugou (though was a great deal less irritating), stating that your playing was somewhat hollow. (you restrained yourself from knocking on the instrument and saying that yes, indeed, violins were hollow.)

"how… how do you get any emotions from playing?" you asked jirou at one point, watching one of her band's rehearsals. they were on a break, chatting idly and taking sips from their water bottles.

“well…” jirou started, glancing back at her band members. “i think about the feelings i want the audience to feel because of my songs. i think about how the song makes me feel, then i put that into how i play.”

“how do you…” you shifted uncomfortably, “know what to feel?”

she looked at you, taken aback, but replied easily. “you don’t. it just… happens.”

her response was vastly different than what you’d been taught a child. emotions? sure, there was perhaps a time where playing evoked a feeling in you, plucked something melodical from your heartstrings. it was when you were a child, though, so it was irrational and erratic, an outburst in the middle of your otherwise level playing. your violin teacher didn’t approve when you’d follow how the music made you feel. she said it made you stray too far from the original piece and would make you lose competitions. no matter how you pushed back against her, her advice haunted you over and over every time you got anything other than first place.

your performance is the audience, she’d told you. you didn’t understand what she meant at first, but she made sure you did while practicing for your next rehearsals. the audience, she quipped with thin lips under her sharp eyes, is everything. if the audience wasn’t satisfied, your performance was worthless, no matter how well you played technically. you play for them and you win - it was that plain. there was nothing more than you wanted but to win, at the time. you wanted a trophy, a medal, a certificate stating that you were better than most. it was palpable evidence that you were good enough - for your parents, your peers, anyone. like that, you practiced, a servant for approval. you weren’t a prodigy, but you sure as hell would try to play like one. her advice worked for over a decade, soundly racking you up with countless awards that filled your otherwise desolate self-esteem.

you didn’t say anything else to jirou about it, instead thinking about the bits and pieces of human feeling you could extract in between your piece’s accidentals and eighth notes. perhaps there was a possibility, through the phrases of notes and dynamic markings, you’d find a word that said love. a renewed interest sparked itself when jirou’s band continued their rehearsals, finding yourself to be a normal audience member (maybe even crying at the end. maybe).

you returned home to practice, practice, practice, coercing any hidden message in the music to vibrate in your violin and echo around your room. you watched other renditions of the piece to find something you were missing, but imitating them didn’t seem right. this continued for the following weeks, hiding any potential development from bakugou (or trying to, at least). you knew you’d be disappointing him if you failed after trying so hard. it was only safe to play what you knew, secure in the written parts of the composition and keeping it at that.

by the time the performance came around, you were glad bakugou never found out about your secret efforts. if he had, you knew he’d be sorely dispirited by your lack of tangible progress, your sound just as hollow as the soundbox of your violin. you failed, you knew, and as crestfallen as you were on that cold february morning, the show must go on.

the performances were held in an auditorium, warm compared to the snowy wonderland outside. it was typically couples comprising the audience, all romantic and pepped up in the spirit of valentine's day (white day was no different). some arrived early, finding seats in the empty auditorium and chatting amongst themselves (or sometimes making out, which made you want to throw your violin at them and gag). bakugou’s and your performance was last; it quite the heavy honor to play the finale to the recital.

backstage was a vast contrast to the hushed atmosphere settled over the assemblage. hovering over the staff and performers for the day was a sense of panic, hurry, and hecticness. bits of rosin were scattered on the ground where you prepared for your rehearsal, some belonging to your block and others not. your pack of extra strings lay next to you on the sofa you sat on, arm resting on the side of the seat. similar to your violin's strings, spun tightly over pegs to be kept in place, you felt high-strung. the buzz of energetic excitement flitted in your head, knee bumping up and down and jerking your violin in the same motion. it was hard to calm when you tuned your violin to absolute perfection, relying on bakugou's perfect pitch to do so. the fine tuners on the end of your strings probably hadn't had a harder time in the years you'd owned your violin.

"you're shaking the entire sofa, idiot," bakugou deadpanned next to you. “some of us are trying to rosin our bow, unlike you.” he glanced at the floor, where amber shards of rosin lay amidst white dust (also made of rosin).

“to be fair, most of those aren’t mine,” you pointed out. you reached into your violin case, finding the rectangular case of rosin and opening the top. "mine's only chipped in a couple corners, and the rest is just worn on the edges from my bow."

you leaned over to look at bakugou's rosin, two stubs in its case. "and i'm the one dropping my rosin?"

his ears turned a deep red, matching the velvet curtains on stage. "that's different," he muttered, putting the lid on his rosin and putting it away.

"you ready?" you watched him swallow before speaking, not looking at you. you could hear one of the presenters speaking, introducing the first piece to be played (an ever-so romantic rendition of clair de lune), but the voices felt distant and muffled over the sound of your own nervous heart beating.

"yeah," he replied. he turned to look at you, scarlet eyes meeting your own. "what, you're not scared now, are you, dumbass?"

you gulped. "no… just excited," you said. in truth, you felt disappointed in yourself for being unable to find any emotion in your playing - thinking about the piece, you were devoid of anything but the measures and the notes. what was the piece trying to say in the white space between staff lines? after the clef at the beginning of the music, where did the emotions start and everything else end?

quiet notes, twinkling from the piano on stage, met your ears. you took a deep breath. how did they make you feel?

…not very good, because this pianist was certainly a beat or two off tempo. a large hand on your knee startled you out of your trance. its warmth was surprisingly comforting. you followed the arm connecting to the hand to meet bakugou's concentrated face, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched.

"don't shake your knee like that. also, why are you so damn cold?" he moved his hand away, leaving an imprint of heat on your knee. you hadn't noticed the physical manifestation of your nerves prior to bakugou's words.

you left his question unanswered, staring at your violin in your lap. you traced the patterns in wood, fingers following the shape of the f-hole and thumbing circles on your chin rest. how were you supposed to be able to pull living, breathing life in the form of emotions from an inanimate object? what sorcery were you supposed to manage to satisfy yourself and the audience?

you thought back to bakugou's words. what was it had he said you were supposed to be playing for? love, the irrational and sentimental flaw of life - somehow expressed from the symbols on a sheet of paper and through strings on hollow wood. what sort of miracle was bakugou creating with his music?

what was violin, if not just a task to do everyday? what was it, out of competitions and tests of skill? what was the sound reverberating within its vacant body, recording every shift of fingers on the fingerboard?

you looked past your violin to the rosin on the floor. friction, your violin teacher had explained to you. you put rosin on your bow so it creates friction with the strings, and thus creates sound. it was strange how friction caused the smooth sound of a violin. too much friction, added by pressure on the bow, made a creaky sound on the strings. without rosin, the bow would be too smooth on the string and make no noise at all. the happy medium of not too much and not too little created the familiar rich tone on the strings.

a happy medium, you mused. in between too much friction and none at all. maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, in between trying too hard and not trying at all. that's what feelings were in the end, right? a natural human instinct, spurred by life. could you breathe life into the music?

the stage seemed almost too big for the two of you, spotlights centering you on the wide, wooden platform. the crowd's eyes were on you and your fellow violinist, some watching with drooping eyelids. they felt far, distant under the shadows. even so, the question still besieged you - would you please them?

you teared your eyes away to bakugou, who started the count. everything was silent until he nodded to you, your cue to start the piece. it felt too fast when you began but it was the same allegro you’d been practicing with. muscle memory took control now, your fingers finding their places easily.

your fingers and bow took all your attention. everything else fell away - the lights, the crowd, the stage - until it was just you, your violin, and the music. you could practically see the score in your head, playing the notes you'd come to know so well.

you heard your music echo and resound off the walls, but that's all it seemed to do. it touched everyone in the room, looking for a place to stay, and diminished in an empty space alone. it frustrated you that it wouldn't resonate - where was the love bakugou had so told you of? this auditorium was no different than your room, where sounds bounced off walls and landed nowhere. you weren't reaching anywhere or anyone, lacking emotion and any true substance.

love - what was love if not a hindrance? how could bakugou expect so much out of you? love - had you ever felt it for the violin? dolce told you to play sweetly, softly, and gently, but what was sweet about the violin? what was so sweet about the imprints of strings on your fingers, fragmented rosin at your feet, and bruises on your neck from long hours of practice? what was gentle about the arduous replaying of the same measure, the ringing in your ears after playing to master a simple phrase? what was soft about the forte that rang in your head, the fortissimo that filled a performance and clouded your senses?

dolce filled you like an epiphany, euphoric in your eyes that finally opened and awakened. dolce was in bakugou's eyes, soft velvet like the crimson curtains onstage, downcast at his violin. dolce was in his sound as his bow skittered near the fingerboard, in his fingers sliding back and forth on his a string. dolce was in his grasp of his bow and violin, in the very essence he played the violin with. dolce contradicted everything you knew, reminding you of bakugou's soft hands over yours, guiding your fingers and bow. dolce was the morning light streaming into the practice room as you argued with bakugou over tempos and notes, the light glinting on shattered shards of rosin as you anxiously rosined your bow. dolce was the curve of your violin scroll, the bend of your fingers over your bow's frog. dolce was the white space in between staff lines on your sheet music and through half and whole notes. dolce was everything in between the rough of your violin experience, the laughter and smiling gone forgotten during sleepless practice sessions and violin evaluations.

what was dolce, if not a rebellion? what was it, if not a rebellion from the years of work and pain you'd endured in the name of musicality? what was it, if not laughing in the face of your violin instructors and the strict score you adhered to?

when you opened your eyes to meet bakugou's, whose carmine eyes dripped with a burning passion and the essence of souls, you finally felt. it was the so-sought over love, scorching every note and stroke of your bow and bursting life in every movement, breath, and echo of your performance. it was exhilarating, living through every slur and chord you played. when you finally met his eyes he understood, a satisfied smile tugging on his lips as his gaze never left yours. this was it - this was dolce, humming sweetly, softly, and gently in your ears and reflecting in the audience's heart. this was dolce, making you realize that you never wanted to play violin alone again.

you picked up a rose that had landed at your feet at the end of your piece, holding it next to bakugou's confused face. in doing so, you reached your second epiphany of the day - perhaps the more important of the two. bakugou's eyes bloomed redder than the rose, deeper than the lowest note on a double bass, and maybe it was he that was the true dolce you were looking for.

notes!!

if you’re reading this, congrats !! this is my longest fic on my account (the record will be broken soon), so i really appreciate you reading this :> (spare a reblog, perhaps?)

first, explaining the playlist:

beethoven’s kreutzer - this was played in the anime, “your lie in april,” and i simply think it fits the “fight” reader and bakugou have. this was played at reader’s first international recital that did not go so well.

kreisler’s liebesfreud (love’s joy) is in the same series as his piece called liebesleid (love’s sorrow), also featured in “your lie in april.” i personally really like the piece. of all of these listed, i think you should listen to this one the most.

beriot’s duo concertante was the other contender for reader and bakugou’s duet piece!

debussy’s clair de lune is simply a favorite of mine. it’s the first piece played at the valentine’s performance (and i like to imagine reader’s listened to bakugou’s recording of the piece)

spohr’s duo for 2 violins is the piece reader and bakugou play! it’s the second part of the duo in allegro, and i once tried to listen to it while following the sheet music. i was so confused every time i did so; i’d get lost and such, and figured my musicality was declining. nope. i was reading the wrong part. so, i started freaking out because oh god the dolce is in the first part, not the second, and thankfully, there’s a bit of dolce in the second part too! however, it did take me a while to decide whether to use the first part instead.

also, spohr invented the chinrest on the violin! crazy :D

paginini’s 24th caprice is considered the hardest out of all 24 caprices. imagine,,, teenage bakugou playing this,,, doing the left hand pizz and all T^T pain

there’s a lot i wish i could cover in this! a lot of reader’s own flaws (ahem, viola jokes) and development were something i couldn’t cover. bakugou’s arc as well! he had an arc a bit before this story takes place :)) tl;dr i’m very tempted to pick my violin up again and start playing

the frog of the bow does not, sadly, go ribbit. it’s the part violinists hold the bow by!

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this :)

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #luna's writing #violinist bakugou

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

Text

New Episode Update Let’s GOO!!!

Warning : This is just Yume having a mental breakdown, seriously. This episode update was WHACK.

~ MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 68-75 ~

I know we ain’t participating and all but the game reminding you that there’s 10 minutes left to prepare is seriously bad for my heart.

Aah, shiet. Vil is still hurt.

He still has small wounds and scratches that he hid make up. Daddy, I’m worried.

Apparently, yeah, I’m not the only one cause my homeboy, Epel just asked to switch the center role with Vil. THE CONFIDENCE.

Aw, he’s worried about him falling over during stage (And make the performance look bad) Come on, Epel just be honest-

...He finally became the ideal poisoned apple that Vil wanted, huh?

Vil being proud a mom.

But the queen inside him is STRONG.

He’ll embrace the villain in him, OUR QUEEN CAN STILL GO. INJURED, WHO?

...AAND he proceeds to roast Epel again lol Typical Vil.

I love how Epel just accepted a nickname like “Doku Ringo-chan” lol It’s so cute, senior-junior relationship goals right there.

HERE WE GO.

Everyone is actually really confident hahaha

I really wish Deuce’s mom, Ace’s brother, Jamil’s sister, and Vil’s dad were here in person to watch.

HECK I WANT KALIM’S WHOLE FAMILY HERE WHY NOT

T-THEY’RE REALLY LETTING US HEAR THE FULL SONG.

IS THAT JAMIL RAPPING.

Look at Jamil’s solo SD dancing. LOOK AT IT.

I really fucking love Vil’s singing voice aaa

HIS VOICE IS SO GOOD.

Album when disney.

Is Vil okay.

...aight im hearing some high quality panting here

...dont mind me listening to it a bit too much...

...they’re going to be great reference for some spicy- leave me alone

Vil panting is making me feel SOMETHING.

ANYWAY. THE CROWD IS A MOOD.

IS VIL OKAY.

Unmei no megami is giving me idia ptsd here.

Heartslabyul Senpais are watching their kids, looking all proud *sniff

Oh god, after playing Obey Me, it just occurred to me how similar Cater and Asmodeus’ voices are...

Watch these Senpai dorks act like Ace and Deuce’s second family. Trey being the dad, Riddle being the mom, and Cater being the supportive big bro. It’s so beautiful.

Riddle’s voice is a lot more softer now, I just realized...It’s so soothing...

God i miss u too octavinelle never change

Yeah, why tf did Floyd not audition for this

Bro, can you imagine Nobuhiko Okamoto in the squad as well??? IMAGINE-

Of course, he wasn’t in the mood back then. Of course. Why did i even ask.

IMAGINE FLOYD BEING IN VDC NEXT YEAR.

Omg i miss u too octavinelle never change

Azul’s gonna overblot again with Floyd’s marketing skills lol

Jade coming in like welp i guess thats that. Too bad, huh Azul?

GOD i miss u too octavinelle never change

SAVANA BITCHES HI

I wonder if these mfs knew that Vil just overblotted and malmal was the one who fixed the stage lol

oooh Leona’s sus about something he a sharp boi

Speak up my guy—

still so weird leona taking his job seriously

Malleus looking happier seeing this performance rather than Lilia’s lol

I miss the simpery in Sebek

Silver’s not in the verge of falling into a coma for once wow

Chenya’s so cute.

AND WE’RE BACK TO CUTE HEIGH HO TEAM

fcking shotacons man...im not one to talk

Aw, they didn’t show Neige performance...

The simping in the crowd is a MASSIVE mood.

WHO WINS TELL ME

These night raven fuckers better vote for us and not pull a “oh shie my hand slipped lololol” i swear to god- im gonna throw hands

*me holding my phone and pretending to vote as well

Suspense music intensifies be like-

HAAA

BOIS, ITS ONE VOTE DIFFERENCE WHO IS IT AAAA

WHAT.

HOW DARE- HOW!? HOW DID WE LOSE!?

WE LOST BY ONE VOTE!?

EVERYONE’S SO SHOCKED LOL

vil pls dont overblot again-

Noooo grim’s tuna cans-

WE REALLY LOST TO A LEGIT KIDS SONG.

These children do not have the right to be this cute. I wanna take Timmy, Toby, and Shelpie home.

I swear to god one of these dwarves sounds like Cheka lol Is it Toby?

EPEEELLLL DONT CRRYYYY

KALIMMMM DONT CRRYYYY

KALIM HAVING THE AUDACITY TO SOUNDING LIKE A BIG BROTHER AND THEN CRYING HIS OWN RIGHT AFTER LOLOLOL

I HATE THIS EPISODE YALL MADE MY TWO BOIS CRY IM FIGHTING THIS EPISODE. BURN THIS.

This background music too though im deeeeddd

KALIM IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING A SINFIC ABOUT YOU PLS DONT CRY-

Jamil impressed about Vil being “calm” and Vil just going “h e h. you dont even know.”

....ha...

Monsieur Rook. WHAT did you say.

ROOK VOTED FOR ROYAL SWORD. Are you kidding me. You snek how could you- i loved you

WHAT DID I SAY- Ya’ll night raven fuckers shall not slip by their fingers when voting rook.

Vil is in the brink of passing out aaaaa

I have never heard Ace this pissed before whoa- lol he sounds like Deuce in his delinquent mode

Aw...Rook felt that Neige’s performance carries a stronger bond than theirs :’( it’s hard to put the blame on him when he’s saying all these stuff

It’s just like what they said in the past episodes that it’s really hard voting for your own team when you know the opposing team is better.

Aww...He just wanted Vil to believe in himself more...Rook is such a best man. Im crying-

Oh noooo is Vil gonna cry too nooo- daddy turned to baby really quick SOMEONE GIVE HIM AN EMERGENCY HUG

Well- at least...at least the 100 year record of not being able to win is still going, yeah? Um...bad joke? Sorry, i’ll see myself out-

NEIGE NOT NOW AND YOUR VII-KUN BULLSHIT- we’re having a moment here

Neige is such sweetheart but aaaahh— This makes it worse, we can’t even hate him aaa—

OMG JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THINGS COULDN’T- AAAAA

MONSIEUR ROOK. YOU’RE A FAN OF NEIGE!?

MOTHERFUCKER just got exposed by Neige himself lol

Going to Neige’s shake hand events, sending him letters, buying all his merch and shie- HE’S A FULL BLOWN NEIGE STAN

WTF YOU SNEK GET OUT OF THIS SCHOOL-

OOOOHHH THAT FUCKING ALBUM- HIS “LIFE’S WORK” or whatever bullshit IS FULL OF NEIGE

...actually- my japanese is lacking- im not sure lol what is a ブロマイド??? Lol I feel like a clown.

Rook is sweating profusely LOL

...what do you have to say for yourself, monsieur rook.

Wait- huh is that-

IS HE GONNA CRY-

WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING!??!?!?!

HE’S SILENTLY CRYING AS HE INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO NEIGE WHAT. THE. FUCK IS THIS EPISODE.

Neige fanclub??? Eternal Snow??? What kind of creepy-ass- OH, HE EVEN HAS A MEMBERSHIP NUMBER TOO-

Props to Neige with his :) expression unfaltering.

I’m- I’m speechless.

Vil is just looking down at Rook in disappointment like- “you’re more pathetic than I am”

Queen just went “I think you need this handkerchief more than I do now” THAT’S RIGHT. REPENT MOTHERFUCKER.

Rook crying is cursed.

But damn, I’m kinda liking this new relationship this bitchy relationship they have

Neige just dragged everyone’s ass back on stage and his snow white energy just said “LETS ALL BE FRIENDS AND SING”

NEIGE IS FUCKING GREAT- HE REALLY DID GOT THESE BITCHES TO SING HEIGH HO LOL

ACE’S RELUCTANT SINGING AND DEUCE LOOKING LIKE HE’S HAVING FUN

KALIM IS SUCH A MOOD, SINGING EVEN WITHOUT KNOWING THE LYRICS AND JAMIL JUST HAVING THAT “i want to die” ENERGY

AIGHT. ROOK IS HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN AND EPEL IS TRYING HIS BEST. HE’S SO CUTE-

OMG NEIGE AND VIL HAVING SUCH GOOD HARMONY—

YAHOO Y A H O O TANOSHIINDA~~

YA’LL SURE ABOUT GIVING ME THIS BLESSED MOMENT??

What a somewhat happy ending, even though Rook just backstabbed us I’m crying Beauté 100 points!!!

LOL Vil realizing he’s having fun singing with Neige- “SOMEONE JUST END ME RIGHT NOW-“ The desperation in his voice-

I love how Neige’s yahoo yahoo is messing with everyone’s head, even Vil wants to pass out lol

haha Crowley is so depressed lol

WHA- WHO-

HEADMASTER OF ROYAL SWORD!?

He looks like your typical grandpa- and his outfit looks like that one mickey mouse wizard outfit but blue—

Old man just went “we won lol” just to piss Crowley off I like this guy’s energy already-

Crowley being most likely as old as this guy—

ooohh this man just sensed something in this stage- Leona did too, didn’t he???

* Damn. Crowley talking so fast sounds like he’s making a load of bullshit lol

Anyway, I’m just glad that it’s not mickey mouse who’s the headmaster— I would’ve lost my shit.

We’re back in our dorms and I forgot that the squad doesn’t live with us anymore. It’s suddenly so lonely now...

Grim is getting the yahoo yahoo ptsd too lol it’s too goddamn catchy

oooohh shiet- mickey is calling us again

YES we finally got a good picture of this motherfucker

It seems like nothing is disrupting our communication this time, so MC thought to call Grim but—

Grim is not here.

Uuhhh...Grim? Where you’ve gone??? We’re getting flashbacks of the first parts of the game.

We went out to find Grim and HE’S CHOMPING ON ANOTHER BLACK STONE ON THE STAGE-

GRIM SPIT THAT OUT YOU LOOK TERRIFYING

AAAAAHH GRIM HAS GONE FERAL— He’s attacking US

Is this because we didn’t win his tuna canss nooo

NoOO SWEET BABY COME BACK.

Legit I’m sad, please baby don’t overblot like this...

He learned a new move though- SCRATCH

Ooh— We’re seeing some Ignihyde scenes here~

P U H I H I

Idia getting a lot of emails from bigshot companies whoa—

THAT OLYMPUS—?! EXCUSE ME??? Ortho what- Are we finally getting that Hercules episode—

Damn getting a hot chance in olympus only to put them down the recycling bin oof— Idia why edit : Yume was informed that olympus is kind of a company that sponsored VDC sorry she was mind-fucked at this moment and the ability to understand proper Japanese just went whoosh lol Thanks to @starshiningsirius for pointing it out for Yume~ ♥︎ HONESTLY YUME’S JUST GONNA WAIT FOR ACTUAL PROFESSIONAL TRANSLATORS AT THIS POINT LOL Don’t trust me for important situation too much lol

Aaaahh...We’re getting this shut-in out of his room in the next episode, are we?

And that concludes the whole Pomefiore Episode! JESUS CHRIST 75 CHAPTERS ALL IN ALL!? How long is the Ignihyde chapter going to be, huh!?

This was a really, really fun episode lol I’d consider this a fan service episode actually cause of all the things we get to experience— The singing, dancing, and the new songs, THE DRAMA. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

But then, the plot thickens, no? What’s going to happen to Grim? In the Ignihyde episode? And those reoccurring memories of us? And our relationship with Tsunotarou lol ALSO WE NEVER REALLY DID FIND OUT WHAT ROOK’S UNIQUE MAGIC IS. DISNEY EXPLAIN—

Thanks for reading this shitpost of Yume losing her shiet lol See you all in the Ignihyde Episode~ ❤

#twisted wonderland #spoilers #episode 5 #Talk with Yume

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Steph!🌟Do u have any fics with smut that is feelingy, ie more focused on the emotional aspect & how they're feeling while doing it than the phy sensations & descriptions? Hope u get wt I'm saying. Thx in Advance!💖

OOOOO Nonny!

I’ve got just the list for you! and it will give me an excuse to do a part two to another list of mine!! <3

I do have a Sensuality list in the works, so look out for that in a while, but I think for now this list and the “see also” is perfect for you!

Feel free, friends, to add your own!

EMOTIONAL LOVE MAKING Pt. 2

See also: Emotional Love Making Pt 1 || [MOBILE POST]

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., Ch. 1 || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #emotional love making #my fic recs #e-rated fics #Anonymous #long post

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jeonbunnie · 4 years ago

Text

the entertainer ✧ 1

✧ reader x seokjin, ft. yoongi

✧ summary: In need of some real cash, you take a job as a dancer in your city's most notorious strip club. You’re making your own hours, raking in a good amount of money, and feeling sexy while you do it. Everything was fine as long as you kept your work life and your personal life separated.But when a handsome stranger shows up one night you find it difficult to maintain the balance.Jin is a gorgeous, rich, and–taken man. But one look from you on that stage has him spellbound. He knows he’s got no business coming back to the club, but there’s something about you that makes him want more than just a private dance. . .

✧ genre: strangers to lovers; angst; smut;

✧ content: 18+, rich/ceo!jin, stripper!reader, college!au, songfic, pov shifts, based on summer walker’s last days of summer album, loosely inspired by pretty woman, slow burn, eventual smut, pining, mutual pining, love triangle, romantic suspense, cursing, dirty talk, eye fucking, striptease, lap dance, dry humping, god why does everything sound so dirty in the tags. . . I swear this chapter’s mild ;^;

✧ a/n: tsvm to everyone who helped me with this project! ♡ @vantesite thank you for cheering me on writing this and keeping motivated; @ice-cold-taeyong my lovely beta reader; and the creator of this beautiful banner @chillingtae !

✧ soundtrack: last days of summer—summer walker

✧ words: 6,493

♪ You pulling me in, you. I know what this means to you. And it's feeling right but. . . ♪

| next -> | masterlist♡ | ao3

Friday night’s at Paradise were always jam-packed. People from various affluent backgrounds and occupations frequented the high end strip club, men and women, though no one could deny its appeal attracted a distinct male clientele. In the dressing room, you can feel the thrum of the music vibrating through you, the bass of the music pumping through your blood, giving you the extra boost of energy while getting ready before going on stage. You look at yourself in the mirror and pick up a makeup brush, dusting shimmer along your cheekbones.

Getting ready to go on stage used to make you sick to your stomach. You needed to be in front of the mirror to ground yourself. Back then, It was easier for you to focus on your reflection instead of your bubbling nerves before performing.

You weren't that scared little girl anymore. You changed. Somewhere along the way you stopped being afraid or ashamed of dancing. Now you craved it. Now, you read the adrenaline pumping through your veins as excitement–not nervousness.

“You’re up, new girl.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but smile anyway. You’ve been a regular at Paradise for a while now, but seeing how you were the last girl to come in, everyone still loved to tease you.

“It’s kinda a big crowd tonight,” says Hyuna. “If we’re lucky we might go home with a little more cash in our bags. I already got them warmed up for you.” She wiggles her eyebrows, grinning at you like the cheshire cat and you can’t help but smile back.

“I bet.” You give her a once over, taking in her fishnet stockings, leather shorts, and tied white T-shirt. “Looking like that, I know you probably started a riot.”

Hyuna flips her hair over her shoulder, all sass but her words play coy. “Ya know, I try my best.”

“I’m trying to be you when I grow up.” You laugh, before focusing on getting ready.

Hyuna was your best friend and one of the most talented dancers in the club. You’ve seen first hand how she could move a crowd. Captivate them, keep them on edge. There was a skill to her craft and you admired the way she kept an audience’s attention. Everything you know, you learned from her.

Your performance was next, and though Hyuna’s a tough act to follow, you're more than ready. You’ve been dying to get on stage and let loose. You turn back to the mirror and add the finishing touch to your makeup with a bold red lip.

A compliment to your otherwise all-black attire: a strappy bra and thong set with a diamond garter belt. Now that your look was completed you were ready to take on the stage.

You prepared yourself behind the curtain and waited for a familiar voice to call you on.

“Real special girl coming up for you next. Get that money out. Straight from heaven, and the answer to all your prayers tonight! Give it up for Angel!”

You smile at the introduction. Then the heavy beat of a hip hop track changes into something sultry. There’s a shift in the air. When the velvet lifts, the spotlight turns to you.

You can’t explain it, but every time you step foot on stage, something changes in you. You forget where you are and how many eyes are watching, you forget about your problems.

You don’t have to worry about school or bills or your relationship–it’s only you and the music. You close your eyes, hips swinging slowly as you move to the rhythm.

When you open them again it’s not you who’s in control but Angel. Angel who is sexy and confident. Powerful. Angel, who knows how to move her body and does what it takes to make the crowd hers and go wild.

You walk forward, hips swaying with seduction, only stopping to throw a look at the DJ’s booth. It was a ritual in your routine. You meet Yoongi’s dark gaze and send a wink in his direction. You loved to tease him, even just for a moment. Then turn your attention back to the crowd before you.

You strut towards the pole and slide your body down, all the while watching, searching. You're looking for your muse for the night. You see a few familiar faces, none of your usual takers. You're about ready to give up the hunt when you see him.

He’s sitting upfront, surrounded by a group of men in suits, looking totally disinterested. His long dark hair is in his face but you can read the disinterest in his eyes and in his body as he leans back on one of the VIP couches with one arm propped up and his legs spread out.

One look at him and you’ve already decided, it’s him. That’s the man you plan on seducing tonight.

. . .

Kim Seokjin was in a bad mood. After a long day of meetings and work, the only thing he wanted to do was to get home and relax—not spend the night out partying. He hadn’t planned for his friends to hijack his night and ambush him with a bachelorette party. That only made him feel worse.

The last thing he wanted was a reminder of the arranged marriage he didn’t want, the one his father set up for him. So here he was, in the middle of a strip club, brooding.

“Come on man, lighten up!” said Taehyung, throwing his arm around Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re the only guy I know who could be in the hottest strip club in the city, surrounded by gorgeous, half naked women, and still be unhappy.”

Paradise was one of the most prominent gentleman’s clubs. only the elitists had access and even then there was a waiting list. He supposed his friends thought they were doing him a favor booking the most expensive VIP package. But growing up the son of a millionaire, the luxury was lost on him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

Jin shrugged him off. “I told you, I’m not in the mood tonight. You guys should’ve gone out without me.”

“The whole reason we came out is for you, Jin.”

Namjoon nodded. “You’ve been so stressed lately with the company, and your dad. We just wanna cheer you up.”

Seokjin managed to get out a weak smile. He appreciated his friends for trying, but ever since his father got sick, he’d been placing more and more pressure on Seokjin to step up and take over.

As a result, he’d been taking on bigger projects and working later in the night.

Seokjin always knew he’d have to take over as CEO of his father's company eventually, he just never imagined it’d be so soon.

He always thought he’d have time. Time to grow up, to make his own way, to find love. . . Now it seemed all those decisions were being made for him.

“I know it’s been rough lately, but you gotta take some time off to have fun,” said Namjoon. “Who knows when you’ll get another chance?”

There were hardly any moments in his life left for him. “Maybe you're right, but do we have to do this?”

“By do this you mean, celebrate your last night as a free man before you have to marry Mei Ling?” Taehyung said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seokjin scoffed and leaned back in his seat. “Please, this is hardly my last night. No one’s even picked a date for the wedding.”

“That’s exactly why we gotta get you out here now. Who knows when your freedom’s up? You could be married any day now.”

Taehyung reached for the bottle of champagne on the table, poured it into a glass and offered it to Jin. “Live a little, yeah? We went all out for you tonight, I even got you a lap dance. The least you can do is enjoy this.”

Reluctantly, Seokjin took the glass from Taehyung’s hands. Clearly drinking was the only way he’d get through this night. “Listen. I’m glad you're excited. But I’m tired, Taehyung. I just wanna lay low tonight. You guys enjoy yourselves.”

The lights dimmed and heated the room to a deep red while the music chan he’d it’s course. A new girl was taking the stage.

“Suit yourself,” said Taehyung. He took a sip of his drink and turned towards the spotlight on stage. “More gorgeous women for me.”

Seokjin finally relaxed into his seat, grateful to have the attention off him. He wondered how much longer he’d have to endure the night when Namjoon nudged him in his side. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this girl was dancing for you.”

Seokjin looked over to the stage, and paused, taking in image. The woman was looking intently at him as she slid her hands down her body.

She was beautiful and sexy without a doubt. All the women at Paradise were. But there was something else that captured his attention.

The way you looked at him. It was so bold, so unabashed. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and then you smiled. Slow, seductive. That’s all it took. Seokjin was hooked.

His eyes followed you across the floor, fixed on every seat of your hips. The longer he watched you, the more attractive you became.

You bent down, running your hands down your thighs and bounced up and down a few times before coming up, and flipping your hair over your shoulder.

That little dance had him thinking about what it’d be like to have you bounce up and down on his cock. Seokjin bit his lip, emblazoned at the mere thought.

You seemed to forget him for a moment, going off into your own world. You took the poll and rolled your body against the metal. Then you wrapped your leg around it and went in for a spin, leaning rolling your head back.

Seokjin found himself leaning forward on his knees, desperate to get a better glance. You climbed up the pole then smoothly slid down, legs moving gracefully like you were walking on air. Just looking at you he could tell you had formal training. The beauty and guess that you held—dance was a passion for you—not just something you picked up for this job.

He couldn’t look away, couldn’t take his eyes off you as you completed your tricks. Your body, your face, he loved watching all of you, completely enamored by the way you moved. But just when he was getting invested, the song came to an end, and you floated back down to the stage.

“Ladies and gentleman, give it up for Angel!”

He understood now why you went by the name. Something about you was otherworldly. And Seojin wasn’t the only fan. The club erupted into a chorus of praise, as men showed the stage with cash showing their appreciation for your dance. Clearly you were a crowd favorite.

You collected the money, bills over flowing in your arms as you prepared to exit but Seokjin wasn’t ready to see you go just yet. He wanted to see your face once more, before you walked away. You must have felt the same because you turned to look over your shoulder as you reached the black velvet curtain. A shy smile graced your lips, so different from the bold look you gave him earlier in the night.

Beside him Taehyung hissed. “Damn, she’s fine. . .”

For once, Seokjin actually agreed with him. “Maybe I’ll take that lap dance after all. . .”

. . .

Hyuna is the first to compliment you back in the dressing room.

“Yo, you killed that!”

You smile at her, still catching your breath. “Thanks, girl.”

You're a little sweaty but completely satisfied with how you danced, even if you don’t really remember it all. Everything happened so fast. You always feel a little different on stage, a part of you comes alive. It’s all so exhilarating.

You always pick a muse for the night, a little game you play with yourself and your audience. But tonight, the heat of his gaze had you acting brand new. You already sensed a thrill of power just moving, just letting loose.

But then, to steal and hold the attention of that man. . .

One minute you were doing your usual routine and in the next heartbeat, you found yourself transforming into some kind of seductress. You worked up a sweat, chest heaving, but you couldn’t help but feel deliciously satisfied as you returned to your vanity.

Just as you threw on a robe and sat down, the door to the dressing room burst open, starting you in surprise. All the girls in the locker room looked back to find the source of the noise.

“Jessi are you serious?” said Hyuna. “Why are you slamming doors? You nearly scared me to death.”

The dark-haired girl stood at the entrance gripping the door frame with both hands, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Well you're really gonna die once I tell you the big news.” She threw her arms out at her sides smiling. “Ladies, we are making bank today!”

Hyuna shrugged. “And water is wet, Jessi, we make bank everyday.”

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. There’s a bachelorette party outside and you won’t believe who’s here.”

“Who?”

“Guess!”

“I don’t wanna guess, just tell us.”

Jessi’s smile deflated like letting the air out of her balloon. “Bitch. . . You’re no fun. Fine. It’s Kim Seokjin.”

Hyuna scrunched up her face. “Who?”

“Oh, my god. Kim Seokjin! He’s on Forbes list of Billionaires.” Chimed in Liza, another dancer. “His family owns some big jewelry business. This guy is rich, filthy rich. Like, diamond rich. How do you not know this?”

Hyuna scoffed. “Do I look like I own a diamond ring? If I did I wouldn’t be here, literally working my ass off!”

“Okay, but Jin’s not just rich, he’s famous. He’s practically a prince. People Magazine named him world's most handsome last year, you seriously telling me you don’t know who this guy is?” Jessi looked at you with pleading eyes. “(Y/n), tell her.”

“Sorry, I don’t know who he is either.” He did sound interesting though. Paradise was one of the biggest clubs in the city so they did see some celebrities dropping by, but from the sound of it never someone this big. You had to admit it did spark your interest.

You could tell by the look on her face that Jessi was so done with the both of you for being so oblivious. “Unbelievable. Don’t you read?”

“Yeah, books not magazines.” Hyuna muttered under her breath.

All the girls in the dressing room snickered. Including you.

“Whatever,” said Jessi. “You won’t be laughing when I bag this suga daddy and snatch all your money for the night!”

“Girl please, snatch what? You can’t even snatch up tips,” said Jessi.

“Excuse me?!”

Hyuna and Jessi were always getting into it backstage. Something about their big personalities naturally clashed. For the most part all the girls were pretty friendly, but sometimes there were petty disagreements.

Nothing ever really happened but you often ended up playing peacemaker. “Guys, please don’t start.”

“Ladies,” said Boa, her tone firm. “I know it’s exciting to have high ballers in the club but let's try to keep it civil.”

That was it. The girls stopped gossiping and returned to whatever it was they were doing before Jessi bust in with the news. Boa had that kind of effect. As house mom, it was technically her job to make sure everything went smoothly backstage, but she seemed to appreciate the effort you made.

You locked eyes with her in the mirror as you touched up your makeup. She mouthed the words ‘thank you’ and smiled back in response.

Boa came over to your side. “Great job out there tonight. You earned yourself an admirer,” she said, squeezing you. “There’s a gentleman looking for a dance. He’s waiting in the last room.”

Immediately your heart rate spiked.

It was just a lap dance. You’ve done this plenty of times before. So why were you so nervous?

What if it was him?

You banished the thought as soon as it came. Don’t be silly, what were the odds? Anyone in the club tonight could have wanted your attention.

Boa winked at you and walked away while you tried to calm your beating heart. You sat there for a minute longer, stealing yourself against the bundle of nerves squirming in the pit of your stomach before rising from your seat and walking towards the private rooms.

When you reached the last door you knocked twice before entering. Paradise private rooms are set up to be seductive. Small, but sexy and intimate, with fresh champagne on a bar cart, warm dim lights, and a velvet couch. There sat your mystery man.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of him. He looked sophisticated and luxurious in an extremely expensive suit, clearly displaying a show of wealth you couldn’t even begin to imagine. His dark hair fell into his face but did not obscure the intensity in his smokey charcoal eyes. And his thick lips kept the hint of a smile. His features were chiseled perfection. You’ve given dances for patrons of Paradise before, but never for someone so handsome.

No, not handsome—beautiful.

He observed you as well, dark eyes growing even darker as they swept over your figure. And though you were still covered, you felt hot all over, like he was seeing you naked for the first time.

The chemistry was so thick in the air you could feel it.

A man that attractive had to be taken. So what on earth could he possibly want with you?

Doing your best to ignore the tension and your growing nerves, you turned your back to him while you picked a song from your playlist for the lap dance you were about to give him.

“I gotta say I'm a little surprised you wanted a dance,” you start, finally picking a smooth R&B track. You relaxed more once Summer Walker’s cool voice sounds from the speakers. “You didn’t seem very happy to be here when I was on stage.”

“I wasn't. Honestly, I wanted to be anywhere else tonight,” he said, voice sweet and low.

You stole a glance at him over your shoulder. He looked open, taking up space by relaxing his arms on the back of the couch, legs wide open while he stretched out. Despite his calm demeanor and his laid back attitude, you could tell by his body language he was slightly uncomfortable, his knee was bouncing.

“Is this your first time?” You asked, letting your robe fall to the floor.

“Y-Yes.” You appreciated his sharp inhale at your reveal.

You turned around slowly, allowing him to take in the view. Having rid yourself of your stage outfit you were only in your lingerie now. “Are you nervous?” You said as you slowly walked over to him, half-lidded gaze locked on him.

He chuckled. “A little bit.”

“Nothing to be nervous about. . .?” You said, speaking to yourself more than your guest. Though his honesty put you at ease and reminded you of your current situation. You’d be taking the lead. The gorgeous man in front of you might make your heart race, but it was you in control tonight.

“Seokjin,” he answered.

Why did that name sound so familiar? “Seokjin. . .” You hummed, liking the way his name rolled off of your tongue.

You swung your hips to the beat of the music and stepped in front of him, before taking advantage of the position he was in. You dropped low, resting your hands on his thighs and leaned forward to give him a little show. You didn’t miss the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard.

Seokjin was doing his best to keep it together. He was already hard for you. It was one thing to watch you move across the room. But seeing you up close, without an audience, giving him your undivided attention had him fighting against every instinct he had. He was dying to pull you down into his lap, to make you feel even half as much desire as he felt for your right now.

“Can I touch you?” he asked. He wanted to, but he didn’t know the rules and he didn’t want to disrespect you. If the two of you were alone in any other context, he’d already have you naked on the floor.

You appreciated the fact that he asked for permission. Most guys wouldn’t. But still, you shook your head no. “Two rules,” you said, winding your hips as you rose off the floor.

“No touching. No kissing.”

Seokjin was a little let down. He wanted so badly to touch you, but he nodded in understanding.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes. He obviously wanted to be closer and you didn’t mind indulging him. So did what you wanted to do the minute you saw him manspreading on the couch. You leaned forward and placed your knees on either side of him as you straddled him. You then sat down on his lap, a few inches away from his crotch.

“But I can touch you,” you say with a smile.

You watched Jin bite down on his plush lips as you swiveled your hips. You ran your hands down his chest, admiring the texture of his silk shirt, and the feel of him, thick and hot against you when he said: “What’s a pretty angel like you doing in a hellish place like this?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “If I had a dollar for everytime someone made that joke—”

“You wouldn’t be a stripper?” He said, eyebrows raised.

If any other man had said that you probably would’ve been annoyed. Hell, a part of you was annoyed. But something about the teasing in his voice, or the glimmer his eyes held as he said it had you feeling some type of way. . .

You threw your head back and laughed.

Jin smiled then, pleased as punch. He started the conversation in an attempt to distract himself. If he focused solely on you, and the way your curves pressed against his body. . . He’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenage boy. He hadn’t tried to make you laugh, but he loved the sound; it was deep and throaty. Genuine.

Seokjin looked into your eyes. “You're better than an angel,” he said. “You’re real.”

You laughed again. “You’re such a flirt! How do you know that? How do you know this isn’t all an act? I could be playing you right now.”

Okay, so maybe Seokjin was flirting. But he couldn't help himself; he liked you. Growing up in the world of business, he quickly learned to develop a good sense on reading people. He knew when someone was being disingenuous with him. But there was an air of honesty about you that intrigued him.

“But you're not, are you?”

You blinked. Normally you would be putting on a performance, creating a fantasy to please whatever man who favored you for the night. But he was right. You weren’t pretending. You couldn't deny you were attracted to him. Something about Seokjin had you eager to please. Just like earlier, you found yourself wanting to seduce him.

You bit down on your lip, trying your hardest to hide your reaction to him. You’ve never been turned on by a customer before. But then again, You’d never had a customer be this enticing.

“So,” You say, changing the subject. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rolled your hips deeper, enjoying his low grunt at the action. “What changed your mind? Why'd you stay?”

There's no hesitation. “You.”

“Me?” A coy smile tugs on your lips. Something like pride blooms in your chest. You had gotten to him earlier. . .You suspected as much but it was nice to hear it from the source.

“I-I’ve never seen anyone dance like that before.”

Emboldened, you continued, moving sultry. Everything you can do to tease him. It felt good, grinding against him like this. Too good. Apparently you weren't the only one feeling it. You're very much aware of the impressive hardness in his pants. “Oh? And how was I dancing?”

Seokjin pauses, trying his best to collect his thoughts. The sensation of you grinding down onto his lap, with only a thin layer of clothing separating your bodies—it was enough to drive him wild. He dug his nails into the couch as he fought off the urge to grip your waist, and pull you even closer. He can barely think straight.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Go easy on me, Love…”

His husky voice in your ear sends shivers down your spine. You slow down, rolling your hips and watch as his thick eyebrows knit together. You expected him to respond like the usual customers, saying how sexy or hot you were. But he took you by surprise.

He reached up, making eye contact as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“You danced like no one else was in the room. Like you were free.”

You freeze. That was always how you felt when you danced. Free. And not just when you were up on stage. Before you ever got this job, dance had always been a big part of your life. It was your passion. When you danced, it was one of the few times you could let go and be yourself.

How did he see that? You were shocked and honestly, a bit flattered. You can’t remember the last time someone’s paid that much attention to you. On stage or off.

You don’t know how long you were held there, trapped in Seokjin’s gaze, his palm, hot against your face. But the moment seemed to build until it was all consuming.

Suddenly his touch was scalding. You scrambled off his lap and backed away from the couch.

What just happened? You thought.

Jin shook his head as if coming out of a daze, then focused his eyes on you. He hadn’t meant to touch you, didn’t even think about it. His hand seemed to reach you all on his own. Even though it wasn’t his intention he realized he crossed a line. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you cut off. “Really. But you broke a rule. I’m gonna go now.” You picked your robe up from the ground and covered yourself, feeling naked in a different kind of way now.

Jin stood, holding up a wary hand. “I hope I didn’t offend you in any way.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t.”

Seokjin eyed you warily. Your words said one thing while your body said another. Your arms were wrapped around your frame, almost shielding yourself from him.

Damn, I made her uncomfortable.

Maybe he was imagining it, too caught up in the pleasure of it all, but for a second it seemed as if you were enjoying each other's company. Things felt easy. He didn’t want that to end.

“Can I see you again? Maybe outside of this place.” He knew it was crazy to even ask, but he still had to try.

You give him a half smile but shake your head no. “I’m sorry. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I only meet with clients inside Paradise.”

Seokjin frowned, “I understand.”

He didn’t want to push or make things more tense between you, but if there was any chance at all, he’d want to give you the option.

“If you ever change your mind. . .” Seokjin reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out his business card. “You can contact me here.”

He handed it over to you, and you took the card from his hands tentatively, careful not to touch.

“Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded, then made your exit, closing the door behind you soundly.

You didn’t have to think about it. You wouldn't change your mind. Boundaries were important in your line of profession. You decided long ago not to mix up your personal life with your work life. You took the card out of politeness more than anything. So why did you get goosebumps at the sight of Seokin’s smile when you accepted the card?

. . .

You waited in the dressing room for a bit after your encounter with Seokjin, too shaken up to go into the club right away. It was strange. Nothing bad really happened between you two, but you felt all out of sorts.

Seokjin definitely wasn’t your worst client. He was easy on the eyes, and you didn’t sense him to be dangerous. Quite the opposite, actually. Seokjin seemed more nervous than you upfront and once you got him warmed up a bit he was perfectly friendly. He made you laugh. (Even though his joke was mad corny). He was likable, charming, and polite.

He even seemed to respect your boundaries—respect you— up until the last couple of minutes.

You’ve faced much worse. There were men who dealt out far more scandalous offenses. You were used to guys breaking the rules by grabbing your ass, or trying to touch your breasts. No one had ever broken a rule with such an innocent touch before.

So why did you leave, feeling so uncomfortable?

The rest of the night flew by in a blur. When you finally got up courage to make rounds in the club, Seokjin wasn’t there, and neither was his entourage. For some reason seeing his empty booth disappointed you. You chatted up a few customers afterwards. But you weren’t in the right headspace to be at work. You decided to call it a night, telling your boss Hoseok you were leaving early before going backstage to get your things.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Huh?” You looked up to see Hyuna standing by your vanity with a concerned look on her face. You waved her off.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” you lied. You continued putting things away in your dance bag.

“What’s that?” said Hyuna, gesturing to Seojin’s card on your vanity’s table.

“That? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a business card from my last client.”

Hyuna’s face lit up. “Oooh,” she sang.

“Stop, it’s not a big deal,” you said, but by then Hyuna already had the card in her hands and held it up to her face for closer inspection. “Kim Seokjin. . . Oh! Wasn’t he that rich guy we were talking about earlier? He was your lap dance?”

“So that’s why the name sounded so familiar.”

Hyuna smiled at you. “He must like you if he gave you his number. So, are you gonna go out with him? Bag yourself a suga daddy?” She wiggled her eyebrows, clearly still poking fun at Jessi’s earlier comment.

You shot her a look. “Of course not. You know I don’t go out with guys I work with.”

Hyuna snoted. “Uh huh, sure. What about Yoongi?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, it just is. He’s never been a client and he knows me outside of stripping.”

“Well, even if Yoongi’s in the picture you should still date your billionaire admirer.”

You took the card back from her. “Why would I do that? When I’m with Yoongi?”

This time it was Hyuna’s turn to give you a look. “Honey, define: with Yoongi, ” she said, making quotation marks with her hands.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Hyuna raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that?”

You frowned. “Maybe not yet. . . but we are dating. He’s bound to make it official sometime.”

“Fucking and dating are not the same thing.”

“Hyuna!”

“I’m just saying! Yoongi’s not the girlfriend type. He cares more about his music than anyone else. You’re gonna mess around and get your heart broken if you put all your expectations on him.”

You threw your dance bag over your shoulder. “Thanks mom, but I’m a big girl. I think I can take care of myself.” You loved your friend, and all her honestly, but sometimes her opinions could be a bit overbearing.

Hyuna lifted her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll shut up. I can tell when my advice is not wanted.” Then she opened up her arms to you.

You walked into them, smiling slightly when she squeezed you in the hug.

“Are you coming in tomorrow?”

You pulled away. “Yup. I’ll see you.”

You made your way out of the dressing room and started walking out of the club, slowing down when you reached the Dj booth near the corner of the stage. You rest your arms on the counter and peer over at him, not announcing your presence at first, just watching him work. Yoongi’s sharp eyes focused on the soundboard before him. He’s dressed casual. Jeans, a t-shirt and his usual flannel hoodie, but you can’t take your eyes off of him.

He’s got his headphones on, ready to cue up another track into the mix. You love watching Yoongi when he’s in the zone. You wave you hand over the counter to get his attention.

Yoongi’s eyes divert to you and he slides his headphones off of his head, tussling his black hair in the process and turning it into a messy bed head.

“Hey,” he said.

The corners of his lips turned up into a half smile and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

“Hey.”

The exchange only lasted a few seconds. Then he’s right back in the mix, his back turned away from you and facing the sound system, focusing on the incoming track. You know he’s listening though, since the headphones rest on his shoulders.

“I’m going home early for the night. Will you stop by later?”

“I don’t know. I’m busy.”

Even for me?

“Yoongi,” you whine. It’s been awhile since you’ve been together one on one outside of work. And although you see each other everyday. It’s not enough. To be fair, Yoongi is busy. He’s good at what he does, has a lot of gigs lined up on the weekends outside of the club. And he’s always in the studio working on a new song.

He’s a hard worker. You don’t fault him for that.

“I miss you. . .”

You watch as he licks his lips, still heavily concentrated on the task at hand, and the swipe of his tongue sends up a memory. You remember him doing that same thing, carrying the same intense look before diving in between your thighs. . .

As if sensing your thoughts Yoongi looked up and raised a single eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twists up again, this time into a full blown smirk. That face. He doesn’t even have to say it, you already know where his mind is going.

“Not like that. I just wanna spend some time with you.”

“Are you sure?” He said, his deep voice practically purring.

Shit. Were you sure? Spending time with Yoongi almost always included sex. Not that you were complaining. The sex was good. . . Hyuna’s words from earlier come to you:

‘Fucking and dating are not the same thing.’

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe.” Then just like that, his eyes fall back to his work.

“I’m not going to wait up for you.”

“So don’t wait up.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to say something. But there’s really nothing left for you to say. So you turned heel and walked

. . .

At home, you tried your best to lift your mood by taking a nice hot shower and sliding into a silky nightgown. But the dark cloud in your mind wouldn’t fade away, and your thoughts only seemed to wander back to your earlier conversation with Hyuna.

Hyuna’s been working at Paradise for the longest. She knew everything about everyone there, and that included Yoongi. You trusted her more than anyone.

If she didn’t think Yoongi was relationship material, then there was some truth to that.

Not that the two of you were in a relationship. To be honest, you didn’t even know what you were. At best, you were friends with benefits. At worst?

You didn’t even want to think about what you really meant to him. . .

Sometimes Yoongi could be so hard to read. The only thing you were sure of was that fact that you liked him. And you wanted more. More attention, more time.

You spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in the sheets, trying to get comfortable with your thoughts, and the knowledge you had. When your restlessness finally turned into fatigue, and the beginnings of sleep started to creep into your body, your phone buzzed on your nightstand.

Somehow, you already knew who it was before you checked the message.

[2:06am] Yoongi: You up?

276 notes · View notes

cocochannel00 · 5 years ago

Text

Birthday Surprise

Harry gives (Y/n) a special surprise for her birthday...

It was currently 8 am and you had just gotten off the night shift at the hospital. You loved your job as a nurse, you really did but three-night shifts in a row as left you completely drained and ready to sleep. You had just pulled up to your shared London home with Harry when your phone buzzed with a message from Anne.

Happy Birthday, love, hope you are having a marvelous day. I know this is very last minute but Harry just messaged me saying he is doing a surprise show for the new album tonight at the Electric Ballroom and wanted me to ask if you’d like to come with me? I can pick you up at 5 and we can go to soundcheck if you like? Gives me an excuse to bring over your gift! -Anne

You groaned silently as you dropped your car keys on the kitchen counter. You desperately missed Harry as you hadn’t seen him in the last four months, but all you wanted to do was sleep for your birthday this year. Despite this, you knew you couldn’t give up the chance of seeing Harry especially since you had lost track of what country he was playing in by now. Just as you were about to respond to Anne and reluctantly tell her yes you would go, Harry sent you a text.

Happy birthday, darling, hope you are having a wonderful day. I know you just got off a shift most likely, but Jeff decided to squeeze in a secret show tonight at the Electric Ballroom and I was hoping if you weren’t too exhausted you and mum could come? Can celebrate your birthday after the show if you're not to warn out -H

You smiled at his text. Harry was one of the sweetest people you had ever met and the fact that he wanted you at the show warmed your heart. Making your way into your bedroom you sat down on Harry’s side of the bed and snuggled up to his pillows before responding.

Thank you, Love. Anne just texted me about it so I’ll let her know that I’ll be joining her. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Think I can convince Lambert to let me pick your shirt for the night?

Think we can maybe arrange that for the night, but only because you’re the birthday girl -H

You laughed at his response before sending him a quick message saying you were going to go take a nap before the show. You quickly changed out of your scrubs and jumped in the shower, but not before setting two alarms and responding to Anne’s message. Once you were out of the shower and in one of Harry’s sweatshirts you passed out onto the bed and fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------

A loud quaking sound startled you awake as your alarm blared next to you. You rolled over slowly and began rubbing your eyes before shutting off the alarm. After checking the time, you realized you had about an hour before Anne would arrive so you quickly responded to the couple of happy birthday texts you had received and began to get ready.

Unlike Harry, you weren’t known for your extravagant fashion sense so you put on the coziest sweater you could find and a pair of jeans before starting on your makeup.

You heard a ping from your phone just as you were putting on your shoes, so you knew Anne had just arrived. Buzzing her in you quickly began to clean up the clutter you had laying around your kitchen and living room. The doorbell rang just as you attempted to put away one of Harry’s many suitcases he had laying around from the last time he was home. After shoving it deep in your coat closet you ran to the door to great Anne.

“Oh (y/n) you look absolutely stunning! Happy birthday, dear” Anne stated as she wrapped you in a tight hug before handing you a small box.

“Thank you, Anne, but you really didn’t have to” you replied as you began to open the box up.

Inside the box sat a beautiful small blue ring engraved with a wave. Underneath it sat a picture from the last time you and Harry had gone to visit Anne. You were sat on Harry’s lap as Anne and Gemma sat on either side of you while Michael took the picture. You quickly put on the ring and placed the picture on your kitchen counter before giving Anne another hug.

“Thank you, Anne, they’re wonderful” you stated as you squeezed her tight.

“Oh nonsense darling, it’s my pleasure now come on if we don’t hurry we’re going to be late,” she said as she guided you out the door.

———————————————————————

The atmosphere at the Electric Ballroom was incredible and you couldn’t wait to hear Harry perform his album live for the first time. He had sung you a couple melodies here and there during the writing process and he had let you sit in on a couple of studio sessions when you went out to Los Angeles to visit him earlier that year. The only song he had played for you fully was cherry. You had never seen him so nervous about sharing something with you. You knew he had broken up with her a couple of weeks before you had first met him but up until that moment the two of you had never really talked about what had happened. The song was so beautiful and so personal that it felt like you were invading his memories.

Though most of the album was about that rough break up in his life, Mitch had mentioned in passing that he had written a couple about you but you never asked about them. You wondered whether any of them had made it onto the album. Harry had made you promise that you wouldn’t listen to the album until he got back because he wanted to be there in person with you when you listen to it. It took everything in you not to listen to it the minute it came out a couple of days ago. All of your friends were gushing over how amazing it was and Anne even called crying to talk to you about it. The suspense was killing you, but you were happy you would finally get to hear it after so long.

You were aimlessly wandering around the balcony of the Electric Ballroom as the crowd slowly began to file in when Anne came looking for you.

“Went to get a drink and you wandered off. Thought I’d find you up here. Always exploring.” she said as she passed you a drink.

“Sorry, I wanted to see the place before its filled. I can’t wait to see him on stage, he’s going to be incredible” you whisper as you take a sip of your glass.

“He’s waiting for you in the dressing room. He’s very nervous to play it for you. Been calling me on the phone for days about it. The poor thing was worried to invite you in case you don't like it.” Anne replied as you both made your way down to the dressing room.

“I’ve loved every song he’s ever written! Sometimes he’s so dramatic.” you laugh as you show your VIP pass to the security guard.

You and Anne make your way down the corridor, greeting the crew as you go until you find the door labeled ‘Harry Styles’. Anne gives you a kiss on the cheek before she wanders off to go find Jeff. You knock softly on the door as you hear a soft “come in” from Harry on the other side. You slowly turn the door a poke your head in to find Harry sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. You frown slightly at the state he’s in. Closing the door carefully, you walk over to where he’s sitting and take a seat on the coffee table in front of him.

“You know, if I had known you were going to be this nervous I would have brought you a barf bowl from the hospital” you whispered as he whipped his head back to look at you.

He stared at you for a second as if processing what you said before harshly pulling you into his lap, clutching you to his body.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck (y/n) I’ve missed you so much you have no bloody clue. Been an absolute wreck today. Oh, happy birthday love” He whispered as he held your face in his hands and placed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours.

“I missed you too, H. I need you to relax though, ok? You’re going to be great. Rachel said she saw your show at the forum and she said it was amazing. Every snip and melody you’ve played for me has been wonderful and I’ve loved every piece of it.” you replied back as you caressed his cheek and placed a kiss to his nose.

“I know but tonight’s different, you’re here and moms here and Gemma and I just... oh I almost forgot your gift” he mumbled as he reached into the bag on the floor next to you and pulled out a box.

You opened the box to find a beautiful ceramic pendant necklace. The hexagonal pendant contained a shell-like pattern surrounding a blue circle, green and pink colored details. It reminded you of the ones you saw on your trip through northern Spain. You smiled as you looked at the pendant before Harry helped you put it on.

“Harry it’s beautiful, thank you,” You said before giving him a kiss.

“Keep going, there’s something else in there,” he said with a smirk as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, searching through the box. You found a slip of paper at the bottom of the box and unfolded it. It was a plane ticket to Anguilla for New Years'.

“Harry I don’t..”

“Know you’ve been saving up your vacation days so I talked with your friend from work, Margret, and she said that she talked with your head nurse and that if you wanted you could take a week or week and a half and come with me. I didn’t want to make any decision for you so I said I’d call her with your decision so if you don’t want to that’s not a-” he began but you cut him off.

“Yes”

“Yes, you’ll come?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, I’ll come. God, I love you, thank you” you replied back just as a knock sounded on the door.

“If you two love birds are done having sex we need Harry out here. Going to start the set in 15 minutes” Mitch yelled through the door.

“I’m going to go so you can finish up and so I don’t wrinkle your suit anymore. Thank you for the lovely gifts. I’ll see you out there soon. I love you.” you said as you got up and made your way to the door.

“I love you too, (y/n)” he replied.

You couldn’t get the smile off of your face as you made your way back to the balcony where Gemma, Michael, and Anne were waiting for you. You walked past a crowd of girls before making your way over to them. Gemma spotted you first and quickly came up to hug you and wish you a happy birthday followed by Michael. Anne gushed over the necklace Harry gave you as you told them about the surprise trip he had also gotten you. As the four of you continued talking the lights in the room flickered and the opening notes of what you assumed was Golden began to play.

“You’re going to love it,” Gemma said as she gave you a big hug.

“I know I will” you replied as you listened to Harry begin to sing.

You were a little more than halfway through the show and you had already cried at least three times. Every song played like a movie in your head. The songs were so beautiful and the lyrics were so much more personal than his first album. Harry had just finished singing two of your favorites so far “Falling” and “To Be So Lonely” and was now talking to the audience.

“I wanted to thank everyone again for coming tonight. London has always made me feel like home and I’m so happy I could share this album and these songs with you all. I thought I’d switch it up a bit tonight so the next song I’m going to sing is called “Sunflower, Vol. 6″ and it’s a very special song to me because I wrote it about a very special person. Now, this person is here tonight and it’s the first time they’ve heard any of the songs on the album. It’s also this person’s birthday so I wanted to wish them a big happy birthday as well. I’m a bit nervous about playing it, but here we go” he spoke into the microphone before giving the band a nod to start.

You were already in tears before he even began to sing. Anne had you wrapped in her arms and had offered you a napkin to wipe your tears. Harry looked up at you the whole time, trying to gauge your reaction. He saw you crying while his mom gave him a thumbs up, telling him you liked it and by the end when he had you laughing with the silly noises he was singing he knew he had gotten it right.

Every song was just as amazing as the next and when Harry brought out Stormzy to play a couple of songs you don’t think you could have screamed louder even if you tried. Harry finished his encore and thanked the crew, the band, and his fans before giving one last wave. After he had left the stage for good the lights came on and people began to make there way home.

“Well go down and greet him, you look like you about to explode. We’ll meet you down there soon” Gemma laughed as you nodded and all but sprinted towards the stairs. You raced down the corridors and flashed the security guard your badge again before running towards the backstage area. Once you spotted Harry’s bright yellow pants you all but tackled him to the ground, grabbing his face harshly and planting a strong, heated kiss to his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and released your lips with a laugh.

“Can I assume that you liked it then?” he asked with a smile on his face.

“Loved. I loved it, Harry. Every single one was amazing. Your poor mother was probably sick of passing me napkins to wipe my face. Loved it all.” you replied as you hugged him tightly.

Just as Harry was about to speak a man placed a hand on his shoulder.

“This your girl, Harry?” asked Stormzy as he smiled at the two of you.

“Yeah. (Y/n) meet Michael otherwise known as Stormzy” Harry stated as he held you to his chest.

“Pleasure meeting you, love. Heard it’s your birthday too so happy birthday” Stormzy said.

“Oh my god, thank you. Sorry, I just love your music” you replied back quickly, almost jumping with excitement.

“Well thank you very much, appreciate it. You two have fun” Stormzy stated as he waved and walked away from the two of you.

“Oh my god, Stormzy just wished me happy birthday. Did that really just happen? Harry do you know who that is?!” you said in shock as Harry laughed.

“Yes, Love, I do know who that is. Brought him on stage and everything. How did you like “Sunflower, Vol. 6?” he asked slightly anxious.

“You saw me cry through the whole thing, bloody loved it. Can’t believe you wrote a song about me and managed to keep it a secret. It was wonderful, and the lyrics and the kisses in the kitchen just made me remember why I missed you so much. Can’t wait to have you back for a little while” you said as you kissed his cheek softly.

“Get to have me all to yourself in Anguilla in a couple of weeks. Hope that partially makes up for me being away so long”

“Harry you don’t have to apologize or make up for anything. I knew what I signed up for with you and I am so unbelievably proud of you and this album and I don’t think I’ll ever stop listening to it. I do have one question though about my song?” you said.

“What is it, love?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“When did you come up with all of those noises at the end?”

Harry laughed. “Oh, you made those one time when you were playing with James’ daughter Charlotte and I guess they just stuck. Think it was also one of the first times I realized I was in love with you”

“Well I am very in love with you Mr. Harry Styles so thank you for making this an absolutely amazing birthday.”

“I love you too (Y/n), very much. Now, come on let's go mingle a bit before my mom thinks we’ve run away and elope” he replied, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea” you whispered in his ear before you released him and sauntered away with a smirk.

“No it would not” he mumbled as he followed after you.

Masterlist

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles masterlist #Harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept

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tcm · 5 years ago

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In Conversation with Eva Marie Saint and Norman Lloyd by Susan King

Anybody who has attended the TCM CLASSIC FILM FESTIVAL in Hollywood knows what a magical experience the event is for fans of vintage movies. There’s such good will, love and friendship there that it’s hard to choose what the favorite event is at the Festival, which would have celebrated its 11th edition this April until Covid-19 cancelled the four days of classic films.

One of the most popular presentations are the “Live From” events, which features some of the greatest actors and filmmakers from the Golden Age of Hollywood in conversation with the late, great TCM host Robert Osborne and now with Ben Mankiewicz, the channel’s primary host. These interviews have played on TCM over the years. And a select few, including interviews with Oscar-winners Luise Rainer, Eva Marie Saint, Faye Dunaway and such legends as Norman Lloyd and Peter O’Toole, will be featured during the TCM Classic Film Festival: Special Home Edition.

As a movie writer for 26 years at the L.A. Times. I’ve had the good fortune of interviewing many of these legends. Here are some memories of my conversations with two of my favorites, Eva Marie Saint and Norman Lloyd.

Eva Marie Saint

I have lost count of how many times I have interviewed Eva Marie Saint, now 95, who won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar as Edie, the girlfriend of Terry Malloy (Marlon Brando), in Elia Kazan’s 1954 Academy Award-winning masterpiece ON THE WATERFRONT.

But I remember the first time.

I was at the now defunct Los Angeles Herald Examiner when I was assigned to talk to her in 1986 about director Garry Marshall’s NOTHING IN COMMON, which stars Tom Hanks and Jackie Gleason in his final film. Saint had long been a favorite of mine. I was a huge fan of ON THE WATERFRONT and admired her performances in 1957’s RAINTREE COUNTY opposite Montgomery Clift and Elizabeth Taylor, Alfred Hitchcock’s 1959 romantic thriller NORTH BY NORTHWEST opposite Cary Grant and Otto Preminger’s 1960 epic EXODUS, where Saint was romanced by Paul Newman. I had also seen her on stage in 1979 in Los Angeles opposite Henry Fonda in the hit comedy First Monday in October.

From the moment she opened the door of the Westwood townhome she shared with her late director husband Jeffrey Hayden, I felt an immediate bond with her. Not only did we both hail from the same hometown, East Orange, N.J., Saint was down-to-earth, friendly and smart as a whip. And she’s always been frank and funny.

The last time I interviewed her in person in 2014, Saint talked about doing live TV in the late 1940s and 1950s. “My God, terrible things happened,” she said with a laugh, including exposing more than her talent on the soap opera One Man’s Family. Saint was doing a scene in a small pool opposite the actor who was playing her brother. At one point, she recalled, “someone was doing something offstage. You learn not to look away from what you are doing because you can be distracted.” But she finally looked, only to see a man off camera pulling his shirt up and down. “I looked down and saw my boobies were showing coast to coast,” Saint said, laughing. “I just kept in the scene and slid under the water. What could I do? It was live television. To this day, all of these years later, someone will say to me ‘Miss Saint, you were doing One Man’s Family…’ and I’ll say, ‘I remember.’”

Saint was married to Hayden for 65 years until his death at 90 in late 2016. And he was as exceptional a person as Saint, sweet and friendly. I asked her how the two met. Saint was a young actress and model in New York in the late 1940s, and Hayden was working in radio at NBC. “He saw me on the subway from the back, and he liked the way I walked,” Saint said with a smile. Hayden also noticed a big black book she was carrying that was her modeling portfolio. “The book I was carrying said ‘Eva Marie Saint’ in gold letters,” she noted. “He thought ‘I like the name.’”

They were fated to meet. Not long after seeing her on the subway, Hayden saw her again at Radio City talking with actor Arnold Stang, who also happened to be the only actor that Hayden knew. “So, he could go over to Arnold and Arnold would say ‘Hi Jeff, do you know Eva Marie?’”

The married in 1951, had two children and grandchildren.

My heart skipped a beat when she talked about how strong their marriage was after six decades. Saint noted she had been “thinking about life and I guess I was a little low. I said ‘Jeffrey, what in today’s world inspires you?’ He put his head up and said ‘You.’”

Norman Lloyd

Norman Lloyd, who is still going strong at 105, is one of the most accomplished actors/producers/directors. Beginning as child actor in the 1920s, he starred on Broadway as a member of Orson Welles’ legendary Mercury Theatre in the late 1930s.

He’s appeared in countless movies, including as the evil villain who falls from the Statue of Liberty in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1942 classic thriller SABOTEUR, as well as Jean Renoir’s 1945 THE SOUTHERNER and Charlie Chaplin’s 1952 LIMELIGHT. And TV audiences may know him as the kindly Dr. Auschlander on NBC’s acclaimed medical drama St. Elsewhere from 1982-88.

Lloyd also had one of the strongest marriages in Hollywood. He and his wife Peggy, who died in 2011, were married for 75 years. Having interviewed him several times, I can attest that he is a terrific storyteller and the sweetest of peas.

When I chatted with him at his cozy Brentwood home in 2014, he was still playing tennis twice a week and regaling me with stories about Hitchcock (Hitchcock, Renoir and Chaplin were among his best friends.) In fact, Hitchcock saved his career in the 1950s. Lloyd had discovered jobs hard to find because of the Hollywood Blacklist. Though he was not officially blacklisted, his liberal leanings and friendship with those who had been blacklisted hurt his career.

That didn’t stop Hitchcock from hiring him to be an associate producer on his classic anthology series Alfred Hitchcock Presents in 1957. CBS told the Master of Suspense that there was a “problem” with Lloyd. Hitch persisted. “He said three words: ‘I want him,’” Lloyd recalled.

The Tiffany network, not wanting to upset one of the biggest directors in the world, immediately greenlit Lloyd, who initially worked with producer Joan Harrison, eventually became the executive producer of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour which ran until 1965. Lloyd also directed episodes of the series, including the devilishly fun 1960 installment “Man from the South,” starring Peter Lorre, Steve McQueen and the King of Cool’s then-wife Neile Adams.

Hitchcock and Lloyd reunited in the late 1970s for THE SHORT NIGHT, a thriller Hitch was hoping to make after 1976’s FAMILY PLOT. “Hitch, by the way, was not at his physical best,” Lloyd recalled. “He was really getting old and had difficulty walking. We were working on the script one day and he says to me, ‘You know, Norm. We are not going to make the picture.’”

Lloyd asked him what he meant by the statement. “He said to me a classic line: ‘Because it’s not necessary.’ When he died, the Directors Guild asked me to write a tribute to him, which I did. That’s what I ended it with.“

#Eva Marie Saint #Norman Lloyd #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #TCMFF #Film festival #blacklist #alfred hitchcock #old hollywood #Susan King

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bubbleteakoala · 5 years ago

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Hey guys! Since we’re all at home, why not practice your target languages a bit? Here’s a list of movies, tv shows, as well as variety shows in Chinese! For those of you who don’t learn Chinese, this is also a great way to entertain yourselves while learning a bit more about the world and Chinese culture(s). I’m not sure where you can watch these cause that would depend on the country you are in and etc. Anyways, let’s go!

那些年

(10/10) Iconic. A true story too! From what I remember, it follows the love story of a guy who tries his best to get better grades in order to get the girl. Eventually they go to college and they split because of this stupid fight. It’s a great story revolving around the idea that when you love someone you just want them to be happy, even if it isn’t with you. There is a book for those of you who are interested, but from what I heard many details were left out of the movie.

我的少女时代

(7/10) Another iconic one, however I feel like it’s too similar to 那些年. It’s about a good girl that pairs up with this bad boy (cliche I know) just to split up their crushes who *seem* to be together. There’s also this whole backstory about how the bad boy and the girl’s crush were friends until an unfortunate event. Unlike 那些年 it has a happy ending! (But personally it was too idealistic)

快把我哥带走

(10/10) God I love this movie so much! I literally cried at the end! It’s a heartwarming movie about a girl who wishes that her older brother, who annoys her a lot, doesn’t exist. She wakes up after this and enters a world where her brother is now her best friend’s brother. By observing her brother and her best friend, she starts to miss having a brother. Eventually, she learns that everything her brother does was for a reason and tries to reverse her wish. (I really don’t want to spoil it please watch it it’s so good!!)

小小的愿望

(8.5/10) Mainly about friendship and a brotherly bond. Two best friends try to grant the last of the trio’s dying wish. Which proves to be quite hard hahaha... it’s quite comical but the ending is what really hits you. I cried in this one too... would definitely recommend to watch at least once! (Oh right, and one of the actors is the brother from 快把我哥带走 and another is the main guy from 我的少女时代)

少年的你

(8/10) Not really my type of movie, but it’s still pretty good. It talks about bullying, shows the repercussions of it, and mixes in the kind of romance you have in your youth. It was really popular when it came out here, so watching it may give you some convo topics with natives~

小欢喜

(11/10) I’m serious. This is one of the best shows I’ve seen. It focuses on three families and their children in their last year of High School. Each family has their own problems which they eventually overcome: separated parents, parents who were absent, pressure on grades and school, depression, etc. The children also mature and grow as the story progresses. It’s a pretty modern tv series, so it’s easy to follow. It shows modern culture pretty well, but keep in mind that it takes place in Beijing, so it’s gonna be different for other regions. It’s also loosely based on the series 小别离 that focuses on middle school instead of high school, so check that one out too!

亲爱的，热爱的

(7.5/10) Ok if you like those mushy, cringy, romance type of stories, this one’s for you. As long as you survive the first 2 or 4 (?) episodes, the story gets better. It’s a pretty interesting series that revolves around this competition called CTF (I really don’t remember what it’s called sorry!) that’s basically like defense and hacking. So Guy 1 was a famous player but is now the CEO of a company/agency for young boys who are in the competition now. Enter Girl 1, a college student (masters I think) that’s smart, pretty, kind, yep. All that. It’s a story about how their each other’s first love and how they both navigate their lives after that. Honestly, I watch it when I’m in the mood. It’s not that bad.

最好的我们

(7/10) Some of you may have watched the movie but my sister swears that this one is better. From what my mum says it’s based on a book too?? If you like school dramas, like 那些年, then you’re gonna like this one. Follows the characters through their 3 years of high school, and shows how they grow, mature, and figure out their lives. Some falls in love, some realizes that the ups deserve better. And then there’s our main couple...SLOW BURN. YES ITS SO SLOW. BUT ITS SO GOOD. So check this one out if you have the time

闪光小女

(8.5/10) I didn’t like this one at first, but it got better. It’s about a group of kids in a music school and how they want to perform on stage. They major in Chinese traditional instruments, but the school prefers those who major in western instruments so they don’t get any opportunities at all. Also, most people nowadays learn western instruments like the piano more, so less and less kids are learning traditional instruments. It’s a story about growing up, the pains of it, staying true to yourself, and also standing up for yourself. It may seem weird at first, but it has a lot of life lessons that you can take form it. There’s also a movie too, but trust me, this one is better.

向往的生活

(10/10) YASSS THIS ONE RIGHT HERE. Ok so I mainly only watched the 3 season since it has the actors for 快把我哥带走 in it (yes I like it that much). For the start of every episode, the 嘉宾 (the ones that are invited to film... what are they called....I can’t remember it in English..) of the previous episode leaves in the morning, then in the afternoon, new ones come!! It’s like farm life in China. The 嘉宾 tells the hosts what they want to eat, then once they come, they have to help the host prepare the dish by harvesting the food, catching the fishes, etc. It also has a lot of life lessons from it. So I recommend this to anyone who likes foods, culture, and wants to take a break from busy lives (... well I don’t know if that would have the same effect now since we’re all at home...)

中餐厅

(9/10) I also only watched the 3rd season for this one. So the third season is about a group of celebrities (and one chef) that travels to Italy, and starts a Chinese restaurant there. It shows them managing it, buying ingredients, cooking, designing a menu, and basically trying to survive. They have a quota that they have to reach by the end of the season. Oh and they also get wages, which is pretty cute since they use it for treats when they’re not working. Another one for the foodies!

密室大逃脱

(9/10) Oh yessss, ok so my mum, my sister, and my sister’s classmates are obsessed with this one. For those of you that don’t know, 密室s are like escape rooms, and it’s like a whole culture here. It’s what you would go play with friends, and each has a different theme and mystery that you have to solve to get out. It’s also pretty creepy cause of how real everything is. But anyways, there are two versions of this show: a pro version that shows how the pros solve it, and the celebrity version. Personally I haven’t seen the pro version, but my sister says that the celebrity version is funnier and more realistic cause most of the time they can’t figure it out and gets trapped in a room for hours (then one of the members starts to eat the props, those that are food btw, not like plastic). So this one is great for those who likes suspense and comedy mixed together.

Extra:

朋友请听好

(?/10) This one is pretty new. My mum has been watching this one lately and she says it’s great. It’s a show about a group of celebrities that starts their own radio show, I believe. From what my mum says it has a lot of life lessons in it. Check it out.

(This is my Week 4 post for the langblr activation challenge, you can find my other post here: Week 1, Week 2, Week 5)

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ditch-witches · 5 years ago

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Eyeliner (Dean-Charles Chapman x reader)

thank you to my dear love @chokopieeater for the moodboard. god bless your soul, you are everything to me.

(PART TWO)

requested: yes/no (If y'all want a part 2 lemme know because I wouldn't be opposed... maybe smutty...?)

pairing: band member!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: stUpId DiaLogUE

word count: 1,943

a/n: This brought me back to my Queen fandom days :)))) (also we can all agree that the boy isn't coordinated enough to play guitar, right?)

You slouched against the bar counter, stirring your drink and wondering why the hell you had gotten talked into attending this shindig as your friend circulated around the room, greeting people she knew from class and so on.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Your friend smiled across the booth from you, her eyes dancing with excitement when she found out a local band was playing and she could get the two of you in.

"Yeah, what are they called again?" You asked, rather uninterested and debated making up some homework assignments to use as an excuse. She rifled through her bag rather violently, seemingly looking for the event flier one of the band members had probably slipped her in class. She was an undeclared groupie of the boys, swearing that one day they would blow up and you'd be sorry for not following them from the beginning.

"Something that starts with Revolting, I think..." she huffed, continuing to look for the crumpled green paper.

"I don't know why you're so obsessed. They're just trying to be Blink-182-"

Her head shot up, glaring at you. "Don't belittle their music. They are artists."

So there you were, head already clouded with the cigarette smoke hanging in the air and the residual smell of frat boy sweat. You sighed, thinking of the ungodly hour you had to be up the next morning and how much you would have rather been bundled up in bed watching Happy Days reruns right about now. The bartender gave you a small smile, topping off the drink you had barely touched and you gave him a nod in acceptance. You didn't look up when you heard the noise of amps being plugged in and guitars plucked, instead downing what you had in your hand and feeling your headache worsen by the minute. Someone came over the mic, introducing the band. The cockney accent sounded vaguely familiar to you, causing you to look up and lock eyes with the lead singer. You weren't sure where you met him before, maybe you just knew him from your friend's obsession.

You stood, walking over to lean against one of the beams holding up the ratty ceiling and crossing your arms as the singer smiled at you slightly, his pick tucked between his smile. How he so focused on you in a room full of crowded people puzzled you. Maybe he wasn't actually looking at you, the lights had to have been too bright. You watched his fingers swiftly moving from chord to chord, head bobbing slightly with an easy smile on his face. He was definitely in his element and you couldn't help but feel a sense of attraction to his confidence. You moved to another section of the crowd, performing an experiment of your own. His bright eyes were brought away from his instrument as he began to sing, his sight gliding over the audience before finally settling on you again, his smile brightening. You slyly looked over your shoulder to see if he could possibly be looking at another girl around you, fighting a small blush to creep onto your face as it almost felt like he was singing the unrecognizable garage band song to you.

Their set consisted of flirty glances and smirks sandwiched between the bass player fumbling around and adding solos that seemed like none of the band members were expecting, yet took in stride. It didn't seem like any of them were actually serious about playing. You caught sight of your friend, screaming her head off and jumping up and down with a few other girls that were probably just as into the band as she was. At one point one of the girls took the cigarette the lead singer was sporting and nearly screamed as they took a puff of their own. He just shook his head and chuckled at their actions. As the band made their closing remarks, you moved over to the bar, deciding that a water wasn't a bad idea for your trip home. Your friend was at your side almost instantly, peppering you with questions about what you thought of the show and what your favorite song had been. "God, isn't Dean so sexy?" she gushed, leaning her back against the bar next to your stool.

You furrowed your brows, deciding to humor her despite the fact that you had no idea which one he was. "The sexiest."

"I think we should go next time. I'm pretty sure there's a show on Thursday." You tilted your head at her words, furrowing your brows with a slight smile, but her eyes were glued to something else. The lead singer was moving through the lingering crowd of girls and---who you were assuming to be---friends of the band. He took a few pictures with people and signed a few body parts, his eyes continuously darting towards you and your friend. You rolled your own, turning back to face the bar and tipping the bartender, a man that you had grown to trust throughout the length of the night as he kept your glass filled and didn't ask for more money. "He's coming this way..." she whispered beside you, seemingly shrinking in size. You nodded, less than amused as you heard her titter slightly.

"Hey, thanks for coming out," the accent was suddenly behind you and you turned, looking at your friend taking his extended hand before she asked to get a picture and shoved her phone at you. You sighed, telling the two to smile as she hugged him tightly to her side and he obliged, lightly laughing at her actions.

"You guys sounded great tonight. I don't know if you remember me, but we have English together-" His eyebrows raised at your friend's comment, nodding his head and continuing in conversation after he finally remembered her name. You looked between them before your eyes flashed over to the crowd of girls slightly glaring at the two before you. It was quickly becoming clear to you just how popular this boy was. He leaned forward to whisper something into your friend's ear and her face lit up as he slipped her a piece of paper. You rolled your eyes as she almost bolted to the stage area, straight up to the drummer.

He leaned against the bar counter where she had previously stood and you damn near gathered your belongings to head out, but then remembered your friend. "So, is this your first show?" He asked. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a stool, he was still taller than you were, not in an intimidating way, but you made note of that fact. You also couldn't help but notice just how blue his eyes were when he was this close. For being in a grungy band like he was, you were surprised at just how pretty he actually was.

"Yeah, I came for moral support," you joked.

He grinned sarcastically. "That's so sweet of you." He put his hand over his heart and chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile. "Anything to back the cause," you quipped. "What did you tell her?" You asked, gesturing to your friend engaging in light conversation with the drummer; her smile a mile wide.

The boy next to you chuckled, looking at them too. "He wanted to talk to her. Thought she was cute, you know?" You gave him a look suggesting he was full of shit. "Okay, and I wanted the opportunity to talk to you."

You bit your lip. "And recruit me to be a groupie?" You fought not to laugh as he blushed slightly, the tips of his ears also turning a shade of pink.

"The captain position is open if you're interested?" He jeered, making you scoff.

"Tempting." Your friend rejoined your side with a huge grin on her face and bouncing with excitement. Your eyebrows raised in her direction as a smug expression made its way onto your face. You and the singer watched her compose herself. You heard him giggle quietly at her joy. "So?" You began, pretending the suspense was killing you.

She took a deep breath. "He asked me for my number."

You gasped. "That's great! Are we leaving now?"

"Rude," the boy beside you mumbled and you elbowed him, making him almost snicker. Your friend, still firmly on cloud nine, nodded at you, hugging her purse close to her chest. She thanked the boy and practically danced out of the bar and into the cab you had called. You turned back momentarily and met eyes with the boy again and he waved at you, a stupid grin sent your way to keep with you until you saw him again.

Little did you know, you wouldn't have to wait for long. The next day seemed to bring him right to your doorstep as you exited the building of your first class of the day and almost rammed into him. You tore out your headphones out of your ear and tilted your head at him. He grinned brightly. "Sorry," he muttered. In all honesty, you hadn't even recognized him in the daylight. You rocked back on your heel, relaxing slightly.

"Stalker," you jeered, starting to walk on your previous path. He turned to walk with you. "How'd you find me?"

He clicked his tongue, smiling at his shoes as he walked. "Your dear friend loves talking about you in class, and is incredibly nonchalant about dropping hints," he bit his lip slightly. "I figured I would pop by and see if you wanted company?"

"Yeah so, not stalkery at all," you stated sarcastically, making him chuckle. He looped his thumbs in the straps of his backpack.

"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you," he coyly stated, slightly cringing at his words.

You pursed your lips to fit the urging smirk from breaking your exterior. "I bless the rains down in Africa..." you finished, causing you to break the tension in the air. He fully let out a laugh, a sound sweet and light enough that you couldn't help but grin at. It still shocked you just how soft he was, a complete hypocrisy to his appearance on stage. Despite it being a surprise, you liked it. "You look different without all the eyeliner," you quipped.

He inhaled sharply, as if nervous for your answer to his next question, his evident confidence becoming a facade before your eyes. "Good different or bad different?"

You shrugged slightly. "I like both, really. So good different, I guess," you answered and you could have sworn you saw the kid beam as you bumped his shoulder.

"Thanks, it's my mom's," he joked, making you smile again and shake your head. "I'm Dean, by the way." He stuck his hand towards you and you shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dean." The two of you got to your next building. You were slightly later than you wanted to be but as you took a few of the stairs towards the door and looked back at the boy in the dark hoodie, you knew it was worth it.

He smiled up at you and then his brows furrowed, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck---one of the first blatant signs of just how nervous you made him. "Before you go," he seemed to fumble for the right words, "are you busy tonight?" His blue eyes darted up to yours and you chuckled, your heart exploding with excitement you hadn't felt since you got an A on your calculus midterm.

You leaned against one of the railings. "Depends what you're doing. You can pick me up at seven if you're not busy."

His smile made your heart flutter as his face went from a taken aback manner to one of pure joy. "I'll clear my schedule."

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman imagine #dean x reader #dean charles chapman fluff #band au #singer #au #requested #fluff #imagine

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madamsixx · 4 years ago

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Beyond The Leather Chapter 26: Sight Seeing In London

February 16th, 1986

I listened back stage as the girls all ran one by one to poke their heads out of the curtain. I started wondering what was going on. I walked towards the curtain and heard them fawning over some guy who was sitting in the audience.

"Hey Mel who are the girls looking at?" I asked with curiosity.

"Take a look for your self. He's so fucking hot." She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the curtain to look.

What the hell the girls are staring at Vince! I popped my head back in and shook my head. Girls and Vince Neil. I was happy though that he kept his word and came. Last night I went to Motley's last show in London. It was very fun I enjoyed my self. It was time for us to start our cat walk.

I came out of the curtain and strutted down the runway. I side eyed Vince and sent him alittle wink while walking. I turned and posed then walked back. Today I was feeling good and I felt like nothing could bring me down.

After the show I got dressed and came out to meet Vince.

"Soooo how did you like the show?" I asked.

"Well I liked the models, I could care less about the show." He laughed. "I think I slept when the guy was talking and woke back up when the girls started coming out."

"Seriously Vince." I slapped his arm. I turned around to see all the girls looking at me and Vince. "Listen I'm going to introduce you to them. But no dirty buissness." I warned him.

After I introduced Vince to the girls, he headed back to the hotel and I headed to the reception. The limo dropped us off back at the hotel. The girls wanted to have a little fun at the hotel restaurant. I was down for some fun but I wanted to call home first. I headed up to my room, when I got out of the elevator Nikki was standing by my door with a big side bag.

I wonder what he wanted? I walked towards my door slowly watching him. He looked really sad.

"H...how was the fashion show?" He asked almost whispering.

"Good." I say cossing my arms.

He nodded his head and put his hands in his pockets. "I um...I know were not on good terms but this is my last day in London. I was hoping I could take you out?"

I wasn't in the mood to hang around him. After that argument we got into and finding out that Nikki shoots up drugs, I just felt like I wanted to enjoy the rest of my night drama free. Because in truth since he has been here there has been nothing but problems between us.

"I don't think that's a good idea Nikki." I say walking passed him. "I'm hanging out with my air head models tonight." I say unlocking my door.

He chuckled and rubbed his hand through his hair. "You may not beleive me when I say this because I have said it to you so much." He says blocking me from going in. "But I am sorry, I'm a fuck up and I don't mean to be. But I am."

I'm trying to not look at his face he just looks so sad and it's killing me.

"Mani." He calls me while grabbing my jaw for me to look at him. "I need to take you out tonight. Please." He Softly speaks. "It's my last day here. Please." He pleaded again.

"Where would we go?" I sigh.

He smirks at me. "Some where that will require you to bring a big coat." _____

We got into a limo and it pulled us into a secluded parking lot. I looked out the window and saw a huge bus. The limo stopped and I opened the door and saw the tour bus. I can't believe he still booked it. I wanted to tour London so bad on this bus.

"Nikki I can't believe you still did this." I said excitedly.

"And we have the whole bus to our selves." He grabbed my hand pulling me towards the bus.

"Hello Mr. Sixx and Miss. Darlington let me help you on the bus. The tour guide stuck his hand for me to take helping me get on the bus.

I climbed aboard all the way to the top. It was a cold night. Good thing he told me to bring a big coat. But I could care less about that. The fact that he still went out of his way to do this, considering our argument made me push all those thoughts about us not hanging around each other away. I sat in the front seat and he scooted in beside me.

"Ok so our first stop is going to be the Clock Tower." The tour guide said.

The bus started moving and I was all smiles. "Nikki I'm so happy thank you!" I giggled.

"Well I did have a day off so I figured why not plan something." He smiled at me.

"When did you book this? Was it in the morning?"

"Yeah I did. Actually Cheap Trick's Rick Nielson introduced Tommy and me to one of Tommy's favourite drummers, Roger Taylor of Queen." He explained.

"Oh wow, Tommy must have been excited.

"Yeah he was. Well Roger takes us and Cheap Trick singer Robin Zander to this Russian restaurant in London we drank infused vodka and dined. I asked Rick where he would take a pissed off girl to make her happy on a tour bus. And he told me about these special places to go."

"Aww Nikki." I hugged him. "Well it worked cause I'm not pissed off any more." I nudged him.

"And here we are at the Clock Tower." Our talking was interrupted by the tour guide. "Big Ben is the nickname for the Great Bell of the striking clock at the north end of the Palace of Westminster in London and is usually extended to refer to both the clock and the clock tower. The tower was designed by Augustus Pugin in a neo-Gothic style. When completed in 1859, its clock was the largest and most accurate four-faced striking and chiming clock in the world. The tower stands 315 feet 96 m tall, and the climb from ground level to the belfry is 334 steps. Its base is square, measuring 39 feet 12 m on each side. Dials of the clock are 23 feet 7.0 m in diameter.

"Oh no I didnt bring a camera." I pouted

"Good thing I did." Nikki grabs his bag and pulls out a Polaroid camera. "Here stand there."

I get up and pose for him. "Now one of me and you." I lean forward to grab him. He gets up and turns the camera to face us and snaps the picture.

"Alright loves next were going to Tower Bridge buckle up love birds it's going to beautiful." He smiled.

I sit back down and me and Nikki look at each other and start laughing like school kids.

"London is so beautiful. Especially at night." I whispered.

"Yes you are." Nikki hums and puts his arm around me.

"So am I not beautiful during the day?" I raise a brow.

"Oh..uh...yes of course." He stutterers.

"I'm messing with you Sixx." I say leaning in and kissing his cheek.

"Here we are Tower Bridge is a combined bascule and suspension bridge in London, built between 1886 and 1894. The bridge crosses the River Thames close to the Tower of London and has become an iconic symbol of London. As a result, it is sometimes confused with London Bridge, about half a mile upstream."

Tower bridge was so beautiful. The lights made everything look like it was pure gold. We drove slowly under the bridge and I honestly just couldn't believe I was here. I got up to look down at the water. It was calm and steady. The lights also made it look gold as well. I heard a snap and turned to face Nikki.

"Mr. Sixx did you just take a picture of me?" I smiled.

"I did princess." He smiles.

"Alright were heading to the next stop!" The tour guide yells again. To be honest he was giving me a headache.

I made sure to tuck every single one of the pictures in Nikkis bag. I was so afraid of loosing them. I wanted to remember this night. We sat back down and he wrapped his whole arms around me.

"Alright and the next place were heading to is the coca cola London eye. You will love this one."

"What do you say we ditch this sucker and go street sight seeing." Nikki whispered in my ear.

"Hell yes!" I laughed.

Once we stopped. I looked up and saw a huge round lighted red circle. It was beautiful. There were blue buildings lit up behind it and boats growing in the water.

"This place is-"

"Hey sorry I have to take a piss." Nikki got up interrupting him. He grabbed my hand and we got off the bus.

"Alright don't be long kids were on a tight schedule." He pointed at his watch.

We walked down towards the coca cola London eye. And I smiled as I walked underneath it. Nikki started snapping pictures of me laughing and giggling.

"Nikki look a fair!" I darted towards where I saw the lights and the ferris wheel.

"Woah Mani slow down." Nikki laughed chasing after me.

"Nikki look at this place. Oh my God we can go on rides, get cotton candy, play games, win prizes." I rambled on and on.

"Hey hey hey come here." He grabbed my hand pulling me towards him. I made a pouty face at Nikki. He sighed, "I'm sorry I sometimes forget that your still really young." He laughed humorously. "You want to go on rides?"

"Yes." I smiled with all teeth showing.

We went on almost all the rides, ate a lot of food, and took a lot of pictures.

"Step right up folks, this game is to test your strength. You have to take the hammer and hit the button as hard as you can. If the meter goes all the way to green you can win this big stuffed bear." The game maker said.

"Oh Nikki look at the bear. It's so cute!" I squealed.

"You want that bear princess?" He looked at me and smiled.

"Yes I do." I leaned on him.

"Woah Nikki Sixx! Wow I'm a big fan!" The game maker shouted.

"Alright princess." Nikki handed the game maker the money and took the hammer. He lifted the hammer behind his head and smashed it down on the button.

"Oooooh sorry Mr. SIxx, better luck next time. Hello sir step right up come try and win your girl a bear." The game maker says while signaling to the next person.

"Thanks, I'm going to win that bear for you sweety." The guy goes to take the hammer from Nikki.

"Fuck off I'm winning that bear for my girl." Nikki yells pulling the hammer away from the guy. He pulls more money out of his pocket and hands it to the game maker.

"Nik it's ok." I laughed nervously placing my hand on my neck while people stared at us.

"Hey ass hole you had your turn already!" The man yelled.

Nikki lifted up the hammer and smashed it again hitting it harder this time. The meter went all the way to green.

"Yay Nikki!" I squealed jumping into his arms and kissing his cheek.

Nikki dropped the hammer and grabbed the bear from the game maker. "Here you go princess." He says handing me the bear. Could this man be any more sweeter.

we leave the fair and catch a cab to head back to the hotel. I open the door and let Nikki inside. I place my bear on the couch and take off my coat and take Nikki's coat to hang it up.

"I only have cranberry juice to drink, you ok with that? I asked Nikki walking to my kitchen.

"Yeah that's fine." He says plopping down on my couch.

I bring him a cup and pour myself a cup as well and sit down across from it.

"Thank you for today I had a really great time Nik. And I love my bear." I smiled and kissed the bear.

"Its no problem doll. I just didn't want to leave things bad between us. I'm sure once we got back to LA you would have probably ignored me."

There was a pause between us for a while. I couldn't read Nikki face, it seemed like he was holding back in wanting to say something to me.

"I need to tell you something." We both said at the same time.

"Oh uh you can go first." He says to me smiling.

"Ok...I um." I put my head down and dry swallowed. "I'm very very sorry for what I did when I was with my friends." I looked back up at him. "It was.. it was very rude of me Nikki. Theres no excuse for my behaviour and you didn't deserve that. I'm very sorry. And I also want to say sorry for my out burst when you came here last time. I hope you can forgive me." I spoke softly.

Nikki got up from where he was sitting and moved the bear so he could sit beside me. He kissed the top of my forehead, "I'll always forgive you." He caressed my cheek. "Mani I." He paused and brushed his hair back. "I really care about you. And you mean the world to me. I want to be your-" "friend!" I inturrupted. He looked startled when I spoke up and said that.

"I want to be your friend too!" I placed my hand on his hand. "I think us going back to hanging out like we did before will be really great. I miss our friendship and the long talks. And I care about you as a friend as well. Your friendship means a lot to me." I smiled and kissed his cheek.

Nikki turned away from me and moved his hand away from mine. He brushed his hair back again. "Ok." He spoke lowly. He then got up, "I'm going to head to my room." He started walking towards my door. I got up and walked behind him. "You don't have to Nik, you can stay here a little longer." I calmly spoke to him.

He just kept walking ignoring me. He opened my door and I grabbed his arm gently to pull him back. I turned him to face me and I cupped his cheeks in my hands and gave him a slow sweet kiss on his lips. He tensed up and wrapped his arms securely around my waist pulling me towards him not wanting to let me go. I pulled away and smiled.

He sighed, "Mani please just-" "tell Rick Nielson I said thank you, for telling you about those beautiful places you took me to. I really enjoyed my self." I caressed his cheek and pulled my body away from him.

He nodded his head then walked out of my room. "You know actually I did thank him." He turns around and looks at me. "I pissed on Rick Nielson's black rubber coat back when we got back to the hotel." He smirks then continues to walk to his room.

I walk back into my room closing the door behind me. I had to do it this way. Nikki shoots up drugs and I can see that he is already addicted to it. That night when Andy brought Nikki to my room. His arms told me the whole story about his lifestyle. And me getting mixed in with that type of life style won't look good. It's not just about my career it's about my well being. I can't take care of a drug addict, I can't have a life with a drug addict, and certainly can't bring home a drug addict. Plus I'm too young for him. I do have feelings for him, but I'm going to have to tuck them away in a dark place. I told him we can be friends but if he calls me up and wants to hang out or do something I'll have to ignore him. My plan is to slowly distance my self from him. I know... I sound like a bitch for saying that. But the reality is who wants to be associated with a junkie?

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #thedirt #model #chanel iman #bwwm wmbw

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sparda3g · 6 years ago

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Attack on Titan Chapter 118 Review

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We can dance around and talk about how utterly amazing the latest anime season has been, but let’s not forget where it came from. The manga content was already incredible, so translating to the anime version is mouth-wateringly blessing. It’s the true Game of Thrones Season 8, only it’s not, because well, look at the title. However, the quality is most certainly true. When they say Sunday hype is over, I say it’s not, until the anime is over. But enough about that, we the manga readers need to look beyond, thinking to ourselves, “Will the future content be as incredible?” While that’s up for debate, I can say it’s looking downright stellar, and this chapter pushed it further.

Zeke may have left the anime (for now), but here he is in the manga, ready to play baseball. I really like that angle shot with Yelena staring to the sky as the blimps are burning and falling. It’s a shot that nailed her character well: a cult follower that praise the God for eliminating the devils. Zeke is a game changer; taking out titans and weapons left and right. Floch the douche and others come in to play as well. Basically, the tide has reversed from the last chapter, though later on, the ground will be on even level; sort of. I like Magath for not giving in to retreat, even when the odds are against him. He wants “justice” against Zeke the traitor. That is soldier’s pride at its core.

The suspense continues to escalate with Eren slowly heading towards Zeke. Honestly, I don’t know if I should be rooting for him or not, but then again, so many good characters are victimized by Zeke’s spinal fluid, so I am more frightened than excited.

A new scenario is created with the objective to save Falco, and this will be the best opportunity to show Gabi and her development payoff. It begins slowly with her wanting to tag along with Colt to save him, because she feels she owe him a lot after many hurdles. That’s admirable of her. It seems natural since she’s a warrior, but it becomes apparent later on. Falco and Nile have a nice and a bit depressing conversation. I’m glad Nile receive more moments, with Falco no less. It’s two genuine good people chatting, and that itself is rare. It’s sad though that Nile is trying to cheer him up, but thinks his time is up; won’t be able to see his family again. I hope Isayama is merciful on him.

The entire jail scene with the main crew is great, filled with plenty of really good insightful character moments. Onyankopon did in fact run off to free Survey Corps to assist Eren. Called it I guess. It could have been a simple path. Unlock the cell, inform about the problem, and ask anything after the battle is over. Instead, these characters unleashed their personal feelings and thoughts that one would say, “It’s long overdue.” Not to say the writing has been lacking, rather how long it has been building up to reach to that certain point.

Take Connie for example. It was expected of him to rage and take it on Onyankopon. However, his anger isn’t solely based on currently. It’s his frustration and experiences since the beginning that have been eating him deep inside. I can’t argue back at him; not when he’s tearing up. You can really tell he’s tired of everything. Come to think of it, he has suffered a lot; losing his best friend Sasha, losing his family, and getting betrayed by his so-called friends. I’m surprised he lasted this long mentally.

Onyankopon is the only guy that I can genuinely trust from the Yeagerists and thankfully, he comes clean. It’s like what I thought; he had no choice but to follow Yelena’s orders. Otherwise, well, brain is served. This is the woman that headshot a guy just for complaining. It’s as if it’s translating the internet world of today; nothing but restriction and ridicule. You can believe his words based on previous chapters. All of his reactions were genuine; not a clue on what’s happening. I felt a bit sorry for him. Thankfully, Armin exist to believe his story. Good boy saves the day, just like in the anime.

The planning procedure is very interesting. The option that would benefit them the most is the rumbling. At least they won’t eradicate the race; just intimidate the world. One of the interesting parts is with Mikasa. She is still conflicted with what Eren told her about Ackerman. As believable that story is, Armin believes Eren has lied. It’s astonishing because Isayama made it very convincing with the past events, including the headache part, and to call it a lie is conflicting. It won’t be against the writing if it is a lie, but then, what is the truth. Perhaps Eren does know, but twist the truth somewhere.

I like the fact Armin picked up the problem with his friends. Everyone easily bought into Eren’s words and can’t think otherwise. This does confirm that Armin lied about crying for the Euthansia Plan because he doesn’t buy it not one bit. Luckily for Eren, Armin is a great best friend you can ask for; defending his action and believing there’s a real agenda behind everything. Plus, his argument is very convincing. It is likely that Eren was ambushed by Yelena with a plan that must not be turned down. We know how insane she is, so this makes sense. Furthermore, Eren is more towards on protecting his friends, rather than wiping out existence. If accept the plan, the rumbling option will be included. It’s a lot of work, let alone to think about, but it’s beginning to add up a lot.

Plenty of characters are getting their moments to input, so it’s Jean’s turn. He’s another character that has been receiving a good amount of developments. Here, it’s about his opinion on Eren. He still maintain the thought that Eren will send everyone straight to hell; he’s not entirely wrong about that. However, the fact is, he actually envied the guy. He’s irritated by him, presenting as a damn cool guy. That’s rather charming of him to say. Who said a horse can’t express love? Connie cools down and go with others as well. Now, it feels like a good uprising moment; encouraging and relieving.

The one part that continues to make me go in circle is why Eren did all of that to his closest friends, Mikasa and Armin. I know he has to stage an act, if Armin’s theory is on-point, but the reasoning, the explanation, and the disconnection weren’t necessary. I still remember that moment and it continues to upset me, like good God, guy. It is perplexing when Armin may have discovered the answer and it ties in to the beach scene, where Eren ask about wiping out the enemy across the ocean. Something tells me Eren wants the rumbling into full effect, rather than partially. Maybe what I thought before may be true after all. By that, I mean his way to sacrifice himself without making his friends worried. It’s complex, but at least Mikasa’s head is in the right place. I hope the real reunion comes really soon.

You got to love Jean for having the kintama to go straight to armed men and belittle them, putting them in their place. He is seriously shining a lot in this arc. All the soldiers in the cell are released, so those crybabies (higher-ups) can stop crying now. You got to respect Shadis for blaming on a bear, obviously shielding the young cadets. He really deserves better. Pixis has always been a badass, and being thrown to the cell did not stop that. It’s a good move to form a group for those who drank the wine, so if the roar occurs, they won’t disrupt others who haven’t.

I really like the symbolism with Mikasa leaving her scarf behind. It really feels like the last arc when she has done something unspeakable; her character that is. It is sad because it is something she holds preciously the whole time. You could see it as a way to address her freedom, acting on her own accord. Part of me thinks this is a death flag, but I believe she will be safe. I don’t know how the scarf will come in play in the long run, but the stepping stone got me moved.

Zeke is seriously turning the tide easily. He’s dominating everything there; titans, blimps, you name it. Reiner has no chance to come close to Eren. It’s just a massacre. Why even have Armin and others? Insurance? Yelena, oh man, talk about her sanity wearing thin. She is undoubtedly sick; enjoying the destruction sight and await for the world to change. Her sitting posture can define her lunacy. Just before Armin and other set off, she has one freakish face that can haunt dreams. Holy crap, my body was shaken with fear. That face, as well as the follow-up, is the face that screams, “Please help my lord and savior. Or else, I will eat you.” I know what I said. I don’t know if she’s on to Armin, but her smile definitely says failure is not an option.

One of my favorite parts of the chapter is the reunion that I didn’t think it would warm my heart. To begin with, Nile is a true gentleman, helping Falco to reunite with his loved ones. Colt, on the other hand, isn’t much because he was getting ready to kill Nile. I don’t blame him, but I was growing worry. Praise the sun, Gabi’s development payoff is kicking into high gear. She stops Colt and instead of unfortunate incident, it all goes smoothly. Falco is reunited. Somewhere, Erwin is smiling. Seriously, please have mercy on Nile, Isayama.

Gabi didn’t understand her action, but it’s a step in the right direction. This proves her heart has changed and her action speaks louder than her mind. First, she reacted as someone who believes in good people. Next, she feels and accepts the pain of her past actions that brought a young unforgiving enemy. Braus Family walks by and while the father believes in Gabi and Falco, Kaya wishes for them to be killed. Cold, but the damage is done. Usually, Gabi would react like, “So what? You’re part of the devils,” but she’s finally accepting the blame and take it all in.

Her development is very solid. It was helped by the slow process, digesting slowly on every part, large or small. It is too little, too late, especially taking the life of a beloved character, but that’s the idea. War can corrupt the mind of a child, whether it’s from manipulation or experience; Gabi is no exception. It’s similar to Reiner, only she has a chance to change and perhaps obtain a better life. She is still young and despite the damage is severe, she admits her faults, so it’s not like she won’t learn anything. I don’t know what Isayama has in mind for her conclusion, but hopefully forgiving.

As for Falco, he finally tells them the truth that he was responsible for the invasion on Marley. I like how very telling Gabi’s reaction is. If it wasn’t for the development, she would definitely pull an Eren from the infamous traitor scene. But now that she has mellowed out, let alone exhausted by this point, she doesn’t react anything but sadness. Those two went through so much hell as kids; it’s damning that they made it this far. As sad this situation has gotten, Falco goes further to the point he has grown up.

He confesses his love to Gabi. That’s right; about to beat the main cast in the race to love. In all seriousness, I’m surprised yet proud like a father to watch him confess like a man. The boy is all grown up. Now, this is a death flag, a classic one at that. However, it was more or less toned down since he did mention the reason for his confession. It’s only adding more to the total of suspense within this battle. It’s not guaranteed, because there are times where happiness prevail, but in here, it’s uncertain. I pray to God that he makes it out okay. I’m fine with this pairing and Gabi isn’t accepting his end to be here. The only hope is if Zeke gives a damn and realize Falco will become a titan if he roars. It all lies on it.

My other favorite part, perhaps the best one, is the last action before the enticing cliffhanger. As you already know, Zeke dominates when far range; no one can’t top him. That is unless you’re Pieck and carrying a powerful cannon shot. At first, I didn’t want to believe that she was killed by Floch and others. That would seriously piss me off. I already hate Floch, so doing this would boil me red hot. It turns out that the Cart Titan’s death was a lie and she fooled everyone. Translation: her MVP streak continues. I demand a figurine for my collection!

It’s damn clever to act defeated and let the titan dissolve slowly to convince everyone. Floch didn’t know who killed her, which led to Marlely soldiers to ambush and actually use the corpse for cover. Who said they ran out of ideas for usefulness? On top of that, the cannon can be used by men, so Magath aims and fires right at Zeke; so close on wiping his human body away. Honorable mention or MVP, Magath is the man. For a normal guy, he sure is a badass. Just like that, the table is balanced (for now).

The stakes are extraordinarily high. The suspense is insane. Zeke is down, but can recover. It’s only matter of time. Magath can’t get a shot from the angle, so that’s no longer an option. Reiner and Porco are still standing. Eren is standing. Falco and others are on their way. Armin and others are approaching. Who will reach to Zeke first? What is the destination? It’s a loose ball to grab to score a victory. It’s mind-numbing just by thinking about it. The possibilities are endless. Clearly and I know you’re going to hate me when I say this, especially if you follow me in other series,

“We’re in the endgame now.” I couldn’t resist. Seriously, it’s very likely that the next chapter is the endpoint.

This chapter was exhilarating, at times unnerving, and suspenseful. There were plenty of character moments that left me awed, proud, terrified, and sympathetic. The action was tensed. Some of the scenery and angle shots are really good, especially that destruction scene. There were plenty of interesting info that I am hunger for answers, but the battle must be dealt with first. So many death flags to worry about, but at least keep Falco alive. For God’s sake, keep one pairing alive, dammit. The suspense is killing me. The next chapter can’t come any sooner…

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #chapter 118 #review #spoilers

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