#rocky is amazing dancer

[blackpinklover101]

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ᴛo ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ❤️🥀✨🥳🎂🎁🎈🎆🎊🎉🥂🍾

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

the past few days have been Not Fun on the chronic pain department but!!!! I got!!!! to see a local production of Rocky Horror Show with a friend!!!! and it was SOSOSOSO GOOD!!!! the translation to spanish was GREAT an the actors were so amazing, and the costumes, and the music like WOAH

and i knew there was audience participation but i didn't know how much????? we made BUBBLES TWICE and we put on the silly hat and had to activate the neon stick and it was so cool :DDDD

[localcanadiancreature62]

Filbrick and Caryn Headcanons

Thinking about the other Pines Parents,the ones that indirectly caused the Stans' issues. Filbrick Fuckface and Caryn best mom ever.

CARYN

A loving mother of three sons (Shermie Ford and Stan),and a powerhouse that can and will throw hands if anyone ever messes with her family. She may not be as physically strong as her husband and her youngest son,but she knows how to use a gun and has participated in several self defense classes so she knows how to handle herself out there whenever her family is in trouble (now i'm imagining badass Caryn trying to protect Ford from bullies lol). Sassy lady,Shermie and Dipper got their sass from her (i hc that shermie is a sweet but sassy guy,dipper however is just like that). A liar and a cheat,but with a heart of gold. Just like a certain younger son of hers. She scams and outright gaslights people with her phone psychic sessions but she will choose family no matter what in any situation. Also she used to pickpocket and shoplift as a teen during the Great Depression when money was slow with her parents because of the stock market crash (according to the timeline in my head,Stan's craftiness had to come from somewhere. She had to steal food and money for herself while avoiding getting in trouble for being a flapper dancer (type of rebellious woman in the 1920s).

Caryn used to be a dancer at some pub,doing all sorts of dances from general blues to jazz to even exotic,sensual~ dances if the audience paid her enough. Her performances were outstanding and so beautiful as if the music was flowing through her body. One of these performances,lead to her meeting Filbrick who was so amazed by her moves that he ended up taking her to dinner at age 17 in 1939 while he was 18.

She had always been close to Stan,which is why the man became such a mama's boy who always did her every word and helped her with anything he could manage despite being convinced that he can't do anything of use due to Filbrick's treatment of him. She had always protected her youngest son from everything,including his own father,because she knew that with such a bright light,it was bound to go out eventually with the harshness of the world. She learnt that the hard way herself when she had to live out in the difficult 30s era and thus she was trying to preserve her son's innocence for as long as she could. She loved Ford too,but she put her attention on Stan more as she knew that poor insecure boy needed it more than his older twin brother. Although don't be mistaken,she loves her boys equally and she will fight tooth and nail for all three of them. She and Filbrick always loved each other,very amorously. Although having Shermie and then the Stans along with having to deal with a rough financial situation kinda broke them both. Filbrick barely graduated high school with his father opting to send him to two years of military training rather than letting him finish his schooling while Caryn finished college in New Jersey with an art history degree despite her not finishing high school to term in Russia due to the fact that she had to survive the Soviet Union's tyrannical rule and then later leave before she could,plus her art history degree was basically useless as it wasn't viable for any careers at the time. Both of them couldn't land any jobs for the first few years of the Stans' lives,and it ate up at them. The two used to be close,but now that they have three children to deal with and being too financially unstable to support them all plus Filbrick getting snappier as his dormant anger resurfaced due to his father indirectly causing him to be useless while Caryn starts getting stressed from everything was starting to tear their relationship apart. Both Caryn and Filbrick got angry,at themselves,and each other. They started to have a rocky relationship from the problems stacking up on them plus the fact that they're both getting stressed and snappy from said problems. But they eventually got their shit together after finally managing to set up a business via a small pawn shop while Caryn works as a professional liar with her psychic calls in their 20s. They began doing better in their relationship after this happened and they started to love each other again rather than taking their stress out on one another,although Caryn couldn't let Filbrick's treatment of Stan slide..

She used to be into fashion design jewelry making as well as collecting old cassette tapes that weren't hers (she just stole random cassette tapes for fun,she liked the stories and mysteries that came with them),but now as a full time mother and part time liar,she doesn't have the time to do such things anymore. However now as she's getting old and gray and her sons don't need her anymore,she gets to delve into her old interests again as she's able to tell stories to her great grandchildren about her hobbies and her old flapper dancing career. Caryn is Russian to me. Cuz her surname is "Romanoff" which is a different way of spelling "Romanov",a Russian last name. She used to have a slight Russian accent when she was younger. She is currently 90+ years old as she was born in 1922 in the timeline i made up. Her mother Winona Romanoff was the kindest and sweetest woman she ever knew,she was always supportive kind as well as helpful in every way,she was a very accommodating mother that was lenient and let Caryn do whatever she wanted because she wanted to support her daughter and give her room to grow while also always being there for her. However this also made her a pushover as she helped literally anyone and everyone even if it was difficult,people often asked favors of her because of this. Winona's kindness inspired Caryn to love as deeply and as unconditionally as her,even when said kindness lead to her downfall. Winona died in the Great Purge aka one of the horrible genocide events that happened during the Soviet Union which was initially used to pick off any political opponents but it eventually escalated to killing off innocent civilians as they got accused of staging coups and such,it was in her nature to not fight back as she always wanted things to be peaceful and so she didn't deny that she staged a coup against Stalin even when she knew that accusation wasn't true,she later got shot to death in some labor camp a week later even after she told Caryn that she'd be back before she knew it. Caryn knew that something was up but she didn't dare to look into her mother's case as she might be next after the current unstable government thinks that she's doing something suspicious,plus she was only 14 years old when Winona got killed (great purge started in 1936) and so she didn't have the mental energy to do that when she needed to grieve her mother. She got by via selling her homemade jewelry and dresses. Caryn then moved away to America at 16 soon after realizing that it's unsafe to stay in her home country regarding how the Soviet Union has ruined it with their government practices and she ended up in New Jersey where she gave into the flapper lifestyle as well as where she met Filbrick. She always supported Shermie and Ford's interests,no matter how strange they were. With Ford's obsession with the sciences and Shermie's eye for the performing arts,Caryn knew that her sons were going to become extremely successful one day if they put their minds to honing their craft. She gave Shermie advice on how to make his lines sound more natural after reading a guide book on theater for him while pointing out that Ford's equation needed another variable as she tried to keep up with her genius son despite not being nearly as smart as him with her streetwise skills. She also supported Stan's interests in comics and art,but it seems that Filbrick's harsh words about how art is useless and that it won't get people anywhere career wise were stronger than her steadfast support as Stan ended up quitting drawing in his teens. Caryn had Shermie when she was 25,and then the Stans when she was 30. Neither her nor Filbrick were ready to become parents,but they were too into their bedroom activities to consider protection. Caryn had a good chance of being a good mother due to her having a great woman as a role model when it came to parenting,but Filbrick didn't. He had an asshole for a father and that greatly affected how he treated the Stans,which is why Caryn and Filbrick often clashed in their views of how to raise their own sons.

She feels bad for not protecting Stan and Ford enough. She wanted to use herself as a shield for Filbrick's harsh words and outbursts toward Stan,and be Ford's protector whenever he was being bullied by horrible children who ridiculed him for his fingers as well as nerdiness,but the times were difficult as she had to deal with helping Filbrick keep the family business afloat as their financial situation wasn't getting any better plus she decided to leave Shermie to take care of them instead in order to ease the load on herself. Although she regrets not being there for them as she soon realized just how bad her twin boys had it when Stan and Ford explained their lives when they visited Post Weirdmaggedon. Ford felt unwelcome in his own hometown as he went to seek out some place where he felt he belonged in the form of Gravity Falls while also feeling like no one but Stan (and later Bill) understood him,while Stan grappled with self hatred for years all because of Filbrick's shitty parenting. Caryn literally cried after knowing this,knowing that she failed as a mother when her boys suffered this much. However Stan and Ford reassure her that it's okay and that they got over those issues with the help of their family,then the family hug together.

FILBRICK

Terrible father of three,hated by everyone except Mabel.

I was strongly convinced by him being a horrible asshole that didn't care based on how the show implied how bad Stan had it with him,but writing Filbrick differently in aus kinda made me think that it's actually more complicated than that. I believe that he was actually abused himself under the guise of being trained by his own father to be tougher when the man was deadass using him as a punching bag,which is why he ended up extending that treatment to the Stans. Especially Stan,as he knew that Ford could make it. However,he also tried to fix Ford too due to him being pretty scrawny and weak but he soon realized that his brains will be enough.

This man is a heavy smoker,which explains why Stan has such a raspy voice. He made his son smoke with him at times,and he threatened to smack him if he didn't. But Stan got too into it to the point of his voice forming a permanent rasp (filbrick actually regretted this,as he secretly didn't want his kids to take up his bad habits).

Filbrick's anger issues are Terrible. They weren't as bad when he was younger and only had Caryn his beautiful flapper girlfriend to worry about but now that he has three kids his own issues as well as his still wavering financial situation to worry about,his dormant anger started to resurface. In fact,both of the Stans ended up inheriting his irritable personality but in different ways (Stan gets mad whenever people spite him or hurt his family/family hurts him,Ford gets mad due to his ego).

He died from a heart attack at the age of 60 (i was actually thinking about Ford's death here lmao. "you will die of a heart attack at the age of 92"),a month after the moment Ford got sucked into the portal. Good riddance,sort of (i feel bad for him).

Imagine Stan going to both his own funeral and his dad's,complicated feelings~.

His thoughts about Shermie and the Stans,Surface level and Real ones; Surface level - Shermie is a useless weirdo obsessed with theater and one that is too emotional to make it out there as a hollywood big shot like he wants,Stan is a good for nothing dumbass nuisance who may be strong but too reliant on his brother and his skills as a swindler to truly be successful,Ford is the only son that i believe in and the one that i know can be a better man than i am. Real thoughts - Shermie is so unique and bright,he could make it out there if he wasn't so sensitive,if only i had the skills to bring out his creativity and say that he needs to work on getting thicker skin without damaging my relationship with him. Stan is a lot like me,a meathead with a big heart but one that the world keeps bringing down with it's drama and problems and general harshness,i wish i could give him the same treatment that his mother gives him,but i'm too deep into my own issues with MY father to even try. Ford may be weak and scrawny,but his brilliant mind will bring him to the top,i know it,but i wish i could have tried to spend more time with him. With all of my sons,giving them more interactions besides yelling and abuse...

Before his untimely death,Filbrick wrote a letter to the Shermie and the Stans detailing how he was sorry and explaining why he was so hard on Shermie and Stan. Because he knew that he didn't have much time left with his smoking leading to his lungs getting weaker plus his anger issues causing him to develop coronary heart disease,but he wanted to at least give his children closure before he went down to his fiery punishment (yeah i hate him. he's going to hellll). He made Caryn keep it in a box somewhere Post Weirdmaggedon,as it was for the time that their boys visit. (i did this cuz i wanted Filbrick to die a painful death as some sort of karmic punishment for what he did to the Stans,but also i want the man to at least have some closure and let his children know that he did love them,repairing their relationship with him even in his death).

He actually used to work at the pub next to the one where Caryn had her performances as some janitor boy in order to pay the bills to his rickety apartment. He crashed at adult pubs and bars often when he was an 18 year old delinquent rascal in order to drink because he was bored,which is why he ended up working at the Charming Martini pub to drink more conveniently at longer hours without getting kicked out and then he later started to work at the Lustrous Lounge where Caryn danced so that he had an excuse to spend more time with her.

He is only a stone faced and hardly expressive person due to the fact that his father forced him to not show any emotion,as expressing his feelings were considered weak for a hardened man of war like him. This ideology was taught to him in high school,at the ripe age of 13,and it was basically beat into him as the bright chipper as well as mischievous child that he used to be turned into a stoic warrior with hidden anger issues underneath his unemotional gaze.

Filbrick's anger issues stem from his horrible father Franklin Pines,who was a veteran and a very troubled man with a history of getting into fights or beating people into submission for the fun of it. Franklin was sent to military camp at 14 because his own father didn't want anything to do with him as he came to be from a quick fling,which is why he was taught military ideals from a young age and by the time he was old enough to have Filbrick (19),he wasn't able to let go of them anymore. The man was hazed and abused by his own father,making him swallow pills whole without water water boarding him slapping him in the face repeatedly making him do pushups for two days straight without any breaks and so many more atrocious hazing rituals. Franklin did this both as a form of bonding (apparently people do this as bonding in real life military camps) and as punishment,because he didn't know any other way to do such things nor did he ever consider it was wrong as he thought it was normal. Franklin was also quite strict as he didn't let him go out any longer than 5pm because then there wouldn't be any time for training,plus he made him eat vegetable gruel instead of actual meals in order to prepare him for the real military where that's the only thing served. Franklin was doing this because he planned to send his own son to the military in order to make him a real man like his father did (he thought that his dad did that to fix him,but really it was just to abandon him). All of this intense treatment made Filbrick rightfully angry as he was never given a normal childhood and he couldn't even do anything about it as he would just get smacked again if he ever tried to go against his father,which is why he held onto a dormant anger for years until he finally escaped from his crazy father at 18,going from Nebraska to New Jersey on a train as he sneaked out at 3pm before his curfew. He was finally able to have a peace of mind after being able to experience a normal life without the thought of constant training and hazing haunting him,and his anger issues settled for a bit as he got to feel calm in the considerably more peaceful of his shitty but cozy apartment rather than his father's trailer park van/mini military camp. Besides his father shaping him to be such a horrible person with skewed views on things,he can actually be quite loving and caring when he wants to as evident in how gentle as well as amorous he treated Caryn. He has a big heart,but it has been hardened by years of abuse and literal torture. He can't bring himself to be as gentle with the Stans,as he doesn't know how and his father's outdated ideals are all he knows. Filbrick made sure to not make his own children go through the torturous treatment that his father made him experience,although the ideals of strength and being a real man stuck to him which is why he was so hard on Stan and Shermie. Stan is a lot like him,a meathead with a big heart but one that the world keeps bringing down with it's drama and problems and general harshness while Shermie is the exact opposite of him with him being emotional and scrawny and too nice for his own good.

[thesummerestsolstice]

Headcanon Crafts for the House of Finarfin

Earwen: a sailor. Yes, I know, the Teleri are the sea elves, but while most of them can manage in a rowboat, only a few are true sailors; able to navigate the Teleri's finest ships, even in rocky bays or stormy waves. And Earwen was the best of the best. She was particularly fond of venturing out where no one had before, seeing everything there was to see on the ocean, though she always turned back to Valinor eventually.

Finrod: a bard. While Maglor's focus was always on the oral history of the Quendi, Finrod preferred to learn folktales and lays, which were often preformed more casually and retold with somewhat improvised lyrics on the fly. By the time of his death, he knew more myths and legends (elvish, mannish, and dwarfish) than anyone else, though most of it remained unwritten and died with him.

Angrod: a spinner. Well, he didn't just spin wool into thread��� though he did keep a few sheep, and was very fond of them. He spun thread and yarn from various materials, and then hand made dye to turn it various colors. He valued his work for its rich hues and remarkable resistance to fraying. He was basically the only person whose thread was high quality enough for Caranthir; the two of them really bonded over fiber work.

Aegnor: a dancer; more in-line with traditional Vanyar work than most Noldor crafts. He had the strength and precision for the most complex dances, though he was sometimes a bit awkward when it came to dancing with a partner. Some speculated that he would swear his service to Nessa, as one of the few dancers skilled enough for a place in her halls, but he never did. He always felt there was more for him in life than endless routine.

Orodreth: a gardener. Look, a garden is an amazing work because it's always growing and changing, and it's made in collaboration with nature. Orodreth loved that sense connection with the world around him, and tried to make garden that looked more natural and weren't bound to beds or boxes. His favorite flowers were always tulips. Though it was underground, Nargothrond still had beautiful gardens thanks to some creativity on his part.

Galadriel: a baker, like Finarfin. As a child, she wanted to follow in her father's footsteps and make something that everyone would be able to enjoy; she learned a lot of her craft directly from him. Aredhel would often bring her fresh ingredients from the Valinorian woods. After going to Middle-Earth, she set her craft aside because she had no use for fancy craft work when she had to deal with fighting hordes of orcs and trying to deal with Sindar-Noldor political relationships. Also Finarfin and Aredhel weren't around anyone. She came back to it in the Second Age, and was able to find peace and happiness in her craft once again, although she never lost any of her warrior's skill.

Bonus! Although he wasn't aware of it, Finrod actually managed to make his way into legends and folktales throughout the peoples of Middle-Earth. Though his story was changed over time, he's always remembered as a faithful friend and a ray of light in dark times– and as having a rather impressive amount of fancy jewelry. He learns this all in Valinor, from his conversations with another famous keeper of tales: Bilbo Baggins.

Headcanon Crafts for Finwe and his Children, the House of Feanor, the House of Fingolfin, and the rest of the House of Finwe.

[bluelavendre]

Dancing In Harmony

J-Hope x Ballerina Reader

Y/N had always lived by the grace of classical movements, her life an elegant blend of pliés, pirouettes, and arabesques. The ballet studio, with its faint aroma of resin and the faint hum of Tchaikovsky, was her sanctuary.

Jung Hoseok, or J-Hope as he was known in the underground dance world, was the polar opposite. The booming basslines of hip-hop tracks were his heartbeat, and the graffiti-adorned streets of Seoul were his stage. His movements were raw, explosive, and brimming with energy.

Their worlds collided when the city announced a dance showcase that paired performers from different genres to create a unique fusion piece. Y/N was hesitant; the thought of mixing her delicate ballet with the ruggedness of hip-hop felt unnatural. J-Hope, on the other hand, saw it as an exciting challenge.

The first rehearsal was rocky. Y/N’s precise movements clashed with Hoseok’s freestyle energy.

“You have to loosen up,” Hoseok teased, watching her stiff attempt at popping.

“And you need to find some structure,” she countered, as his leap into an improvised move missed the planned timing.

But as the weeks passed, they began to understand each other. Y/N taught Hoseok the discipline of controlled movement, while he helped her embrace the freedom of spontaneity. They spent late nights in the studio, laughing as they failed lifts, cheering when they nailed sequences, and bonding over shared exhaustion.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session, they found themselves sitting on the studio floor, sharing snacks and stories. Hoseok admired Y/N’s dedication to her craft, while she was in awe of his boundless creativity.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I never thought ballet could be...beautiful like this. You make it look effortless.”

“And I never thought hip-hop could tell a story,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But you pour your soul into it. That’s inspiring.”

Their chemistry wasn’t just evident offstage—it transformed their performance. On the night of the showcase, the crowd was mesmerized by their routine. Hoseok’s powerful pops complemented Y/N’s graceful arabesques. When the final note of the music faded, they stood together, hands clasped, breaths heavy, basking in the audience's thunderous applause.

Backstage, Hoseok turned to Y/N, his eyes glowing with excitement.

“We should keep doing this,” he said.

“You mean...work together?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin playful yet sincere. “But only if you can handle me outdancing you.”

Y/N laughed, her heart warm. “We’ll see about that, J-Hope.”

And so, their partnership blossomed—two dancers from different worlds, finding harmony in the rhythm of their shared passion.

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J-Hope POV

The sound of people echoed through my ears, a steady hum of chatter mixed with the occasional thump of sneakers hitting the studio floor. My heart raced, my palms slick with nervous sweat. As a 16-year-old stepping into the world of hip hop, I felt like I was staring at a blank canvas, waiting for my first brushstroke.

They told me I had potential—that I could be an amazing dancer. And sure, I could bust out a few moves that made people cheer. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t there yet. There was so much more I wanted to learn, so much more I wanted to express. Dancing wasn’t just movement to me—it was my voice, my story.

I tightened my laces and scanned the room. The studio was alive with energy—people practicing their routines, laughter bouncing off the mirrors, music shaking the walls. It was intimidating, but it was also thrilling. This was the kind of environment where growth happened.

“Jung Hoseok, right?”

I turned to see a man in his late twenties, his stance relaxed but his gaze sharp. He was one of the mentors overseeing today’s session.

“Yes, sir.” I bowed slightly, trying to keep my nerves in check.

He gave me a nod and crossed his arms. “I’ve seen your moves. You’ve got rhythm, but you’re playing it too safe. If you want to stand out, you need to let loose. Stop thinking so much.”

I blinked. Stop thinking? That felt impossible. My mind was always racing—counting beats, analyzing steps, worrying if I looked stupid.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said with a small smirk, as if reading my thoughts. “Just trust yourself. Dance isn’t about perfection; it’s about connection.”

His words lingered as I moved to the corner of the studio to warm up. I started with some basic footwork, trying to let the music guide me instead of overthinking every step. Slowly, the tension in my shoulders eased, and I began to lose myself in the rhythm.

As the session progressed, I noticed the way the other dancers moved—so raw, so unapologetically themselves. It was inspiring, but it also made me question if I belonged here.

Then, the music shifted. A heavy beat dropped, and something inside me clicked. Without hesitation, I stepped into the center of the room and let my body take over. I hit the floor with power and precision, popping and locking with a confidence I didn’t know I had.

The room erupted into cheers, and I felt a rush of adrenaline. For the first time, I wasn’t just a kid trying to keep up. I was a dancer, holding my own in a space filled with talent and passion.

As the session wrapped up, I found myself grinning. This was just the beginning, but I knew one thing for sure—I was ready to pour my heart into this blank canvas and paint something unforgettable.

J-Hope POV

“JUNG HOSEOK!!”

I turned to see Jimin bounding toward me, a wide grin plastered across his face. Jimin was a friend from school—a year younger but just as passionate about dance as I was. The only difference? While I lived and breathed hip hop, Jimin was all about contemporary ballet. Fancy turns, graceful leaps, and a lot of elegance—totally opposite of my style.

“Jiminshii!” I called back, opening my arms for our signature bro hug. We slapped each other’s backs like we hadn’t seen each other in years, even though we’d hung out just a couple of days ago.

“You were so cool, Hobi hyung! You did this move—like that—it was awesome!” Jimin started imitating my moves, his arms jerking wildly and his face scrunched in exaggerated focus.

I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “That was nothing, bro,” I said, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“Nothing? Are you kidding?” Jimin’s eyes widened. “You had the whole room hyped! Seriously, hyung, you’re going to be famous one day.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep hyping me up,” I teased, though his words made my chest swell with pride. Jimin always had a way of making me feel like I was capable of anything, even on days when I doubted myself.

Jimin leaned against the wall, still catching his breath from his exaggerated performance of my moves. “You know,” he started, a little more seriously, “I wish I could move like you sometimes. Contemporary ballet is all about being poised and controlled, but you—you’re so free. It’s like the music just takes over your body.”

“Free, huh?” I rubbed the back of my neck, thinking about what my mentor had said earlier about letting go and trusting myself. “It’s not always easy, you know. Sometimes I overthink everything—like, am I hitting the beat right? Do I look stiff? Am I good enough to be here?”

Jimin tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “We all think like that sometimes. Even when I’m on stage, there’s a little voice in my head saying, ‘Don’t mess up.’ But hyung, when you’re dancing, it doesn’t look like you’re thinking at all. It looks like you’re feeling. That’s what makes you amazing.”

I let his words sink in, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Thanks, Jimin-ah. You always know what to say, huh?”

He grinned cheekily. “Of course, I do. That’s why I’m your number-one fan.”

We both laughed, and for a moment, the nerves from earlier felt like a distant memory. Jimin’s energy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel grateful for his support.

“Come on,” I said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving, and I know you’re not leaving until you tell me about your new fancy ballet routine.”

“Deal,” Jimin said, his eyes sparkling. “But only if you show me how to pop like you do.”

“Challenge accepted,” I said with a grin, already planning how I was going to make Jimin look completely ridiculous attempting hip hop.

And just like that, the day ended on a high note—with laughter, friendship, and the realization that I wasn’t alone in this journey.

Y/N POV

Ballet. An elegant and poised dance—beautiful and timeless. It’s everything I’ve known since I was five, my body practically molded to the sound of classical music. The graceful movements, the pointed toes, the perfect lines—it’s my passion, the thing that drives me forward.

But sometimes, it’s hard to love something that demands so much from you.

“Twirl and twirl! Y/N! You are slouching again!”

Mrs. Ka’s sharp voice cut through the studio like a whip, snapping me out of my thoughts. I immediately straightened my posture and forced my arms into a more fluid movement as I attempted another pirouette.

“Better,” she said, her tone softer but still critical. “You have the talent, Y/N, but you need to focus. You must live in the moment, feel the music. Otherwise, you’ll never reach your full potential.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from sighing. Mrs. Ka meant well—she always did—but the pressure to be perfect weighed on me like a thousand bricks. Ballet wasn’t just about dancing; it was about discipline, control, and embodying perfection.

As the music played on, I forced myself to move with precision, ignoring the growing ache in my calves and the blister forming on my right foot. Ballet wasn’t supposed to be easy, I reminded myself. Greatness came with sacrifice.

But as the session ended and I collapsed onto the studio floor, stretching out my legs, I couldn’t help but feel...tired. Not just physically, but mentally.

Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like to dance without all the rules, to just let go and move however I wanted. Would it feel freeing? Would it feel like dancing for myself and not for someone else?

“Y/N, don’t forget your practice routine tonight at 8pm,” Mrs. Ka reminded as she gathered her things.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied automatically, even though my body was screaming for a break.

When the studio finally emptied, I sat alone, staring at my reflection in the mirrored wall. My bun was slightly messy, strands of hair sticking out, and my leotard clung to me like a second skin. I looked the part of a ballerina, but inside, I felt...trapped.

I closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath. Maybe I needed to find a way to rekindle the spark that had drawn me to ballet in the first place. Or maybe, just maybe, I needed to step outside of my comfort zone and try something different.

Y/N POV

At 5 pm the streets of Seoul were alive with energy, as they always were. The scent of spices from skewers wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and the occasional car horn. I pulled my warm jacket tighter around me, still in my ballet outfit from earlier. My muscles ached, but the cool evening breeze was a welcome relief.

As I navigated through the crowd, a familiar voice called out to me.

“Y/N-ah!”

I turned, spotting a familiar figure waving enthusiastically. “Jimin-ah!”

Jimin, one of my closest dance mates from ballet school, jogged toward me, his ever-cheerful smile lighting up his face. He wrapped me in a quick hug, his energy as infectious as always.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here? I thought you were still at practice,” he said, tilting his head.

“Just finished,” I replied, a small sigh escaping my lips. “Mrs. Ka wants me back tonight, though. Apparently, my posture still isn’t up to her standards.”

“Ah,” Jimin said, wincing in sympathy. “She’s tough, huh?”

I nodded, but before I could dwell on it, he gestured to the boy standing beside him.

“Oh, this is Hoseok, by the way—a friend of mine,” Jimin introduced, nudging the boy gently.

I turned my attention to him and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok-shi! I’m Y/N!”

Hoseok’s eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks as he returned my smile. “N-Nice to meet you,” he stammered, quickly extending his hand for a handshake.

His hand was warm, his grip firm yet gentle. I noticed how his flustered expression softened when he smiled—a quiet, genuine kind of warmth.

“So, why are you here alone, Y/N-ah?” Jimin asked, his tone shifting to one of concern. “You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself. Come with us—it’s safer since our homes are just a few blocks away from yours.”

I hesitated, glancing at my phone. “Well, my dad said he’d pick me up... but that was 45 minutes ago. I guess he forgot.”

Jimin frowned, crossing his arms. “Seriously? You’ve been waiting all this time? Come on, you’re not staying out here alone.”

“Jimin’s right,” Hoseok chimed in softly, though his gaze avoided mine. “It’s late, and it’s better if we stick together.”

I chuckled at their concern, but deep down, I appreciated it. “Alright, fine. Lead the way, gentlemen.”

As we walked, Jimin kept the conversation light, telling funny stories about their dance practice earlier. Hoseok was quieter, occasionally adding a comment here and there, but mostly keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

Despite his silence, there was something calming about Hoseok’s presence. It felt natural, even though we’d just met.

“So, Y/N,” Jimin said suddenly, grinning mischievously, “did you know Hoseok here is a hip-hop dancer?”

My eyebrows raised in surprise as I turned to Hoseok. “Really? That’s amazing!”

Hoseok scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It’s nothing special...”

“Are you kidding? He’s incredible!” Jimin cut in before I could respond. “You should see him in action sometime.”

I smiled at Hoseok, whose blush deepened. “I’d love to. Maybe you could teach me a move or two.”

He chuckled softly, his shyness fading for a moment. “Only if you promise to teach me how to pirouette.”

“Deal,” I said, laughing.

And just like that, the evening didn’t seem so tiring anymore.

Y/N POV

I pushed the door open to our house, the familiar scent of my dad’s cologne lingering faintly in the air. He was seated at the dining table, papers scattered in front of him, his glasses perched low on his nose. His focus was split between a document and his laptop.

“I’m home,” I said, my voice tired but soft.

He looked up, startled. “Honey, I’m sorry. I forgot—it’s just—”

“It’s fine, Dad. Jimin came along.” I offered him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the guilt in his eyes.

“Well, that was nice of him,” he said, returning my smile. This one was sincere but tinged with the weariness of a long day.

I nodded and gave him a lip-tight smile before heading upstairs. As I climbed the steps, I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me. My bag hit the bed with a soft thud, and I closed my bedroom door behind me, leaning against it for a moment before sliding down to the floor.

I wasn’t mad at Dad. I never could be. Growing up, it was just the two of us against the world.

When I was two, my mother left. She cheated on Dad, and their divorce wasn’t just the end of a marriage—it was the end of a life he had envisioned for me and for himself. He didn’t talk about her much, and I never pushed him to. All I knew was that she chose to leave, and he chose to stay.

Dad raised me on his own, balancing work as a lawyer and parenting a child. I couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for him, but I could see it in the lines on his face, the way he sighed after a long day, the way he smiled at me even when he was exhausted.

And he did more than just raise me—he loved me. He showed me that even when life broke you, you could still hold onto the pieces that mattered most.

But the downside of his job was the time it took away from us. He earned more than enough to give me a comfortable life, but sometimes I’d trade all of it for just one evening of his undivided attention.

I stood up, peeling off my jacket and throwing it on the bed alongside my bag. My room felt quiet, almost too quiet, the faint hum of the city outside the only sound.

Walking to my desk, I sat down and stared at the photo frame perched on the corner. It was a picture of me and Dad from my ballet recital when I was eight. My tutu was crooked, and his tie was slightly undone, but we were both smiling—beaming, actually. That was a good day.

I picked up the frame and ran my thumb across the glass. “You’re doing your best, Dad,” I whispered. “And I’ll keep doing mine too.”

With a deep breath, I set the frame back down and stood up. Tomorrow was another day—a day to dance, to laugh, and to keep going, no matter how tired I felt.

Y/N POV

7:20 PM.

The halls of my ballet school were quiet, the sound of my footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. Being early wasn’t just a rule here—it was an unspoken requirement. Mrs. Ka had drilled it into us that punctuality was a reflection of discipline, and in ballet, discipline was everything.

I pushed the studio door open, and the familiar silence greeted me. No chattering classmates, no authoritative commands from Mrs. Ka—just peace. The stillness wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and for once, I felt at ease.

Being the first to arrive had its perks. Practicing alone meant no one to judge, no one to critique, and no one to dictate my movements. It was just me, the music, and the freedom to express myself however I wanted.

I placed my bag in the corner, stretched for a few minutes, and queued up my music. The soft, haunting melody of “Love Story” by Indila began to fill the room, its rhythm pulling me in as if it were speaking directly to my soul.

Closing my eyes, I let the music guide me. Each movement flowed naturally—graceful extensions, delicate turns, and soft landings. I didn’t have to think; I just felt. My body responded to every note, every beat, creating a story with each step.

It was in these moments that I truly fell in love with ballet again—not as an obligation, but as an art form that allowed me to escape.

I finished with a slow arabesque, holding the final position as the last notes faded into silence. My chest rose and fell as I caught my breath, a small smile tugging at my lips.

But before I could savor the moment, the sound of clapping startled me.

I turned quickly, my cheeks flushing when I saw them—Jimin and Hoseok standing near the doorway, both of them watching me with amused expressions.

“That was beautiful, Y/N,” Jimin said, walking toward me with a wide grin. “I didn’t know you liked practicing solo.”

I managed an awkward laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I didn’t know you two were there.”

“Well,” Jimin said, glancing at Hoseok with a smirk, “we didn’t want to interrupt such a masterpiece.”

Hoseok, who had been quiet, stepped forward, his expression softer. “You’re... really amazing,” he said, his voice low but genuine.

I blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his words. “Thank you, Hoseok-shi,” I replied, feeling a warm blush creep up my neck.

Jimin, ever the playful one, clapped Hoseok on the back. “See, I told you she’s good, didn’t I? And Y/N, this guy here wouldn’t stop talking about how cool the studio looked when we walked in.”

Hoseok’s face turned a light shade of pink, and he quickly shook his head. “That’s not true! I just... thought it was nice.”

I giggled, feeling the tension ease. “Well, I’m glad you both enjoyed the show.”

Jimin plopped down on the floor, motioning for me to sit too. “Now that we’re all here, why don’t we show each other some moves? Ballet meets hip hop—what do you say, Y/N?”

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “You want me to try hip hop?”

“Why not?” Hoseok said, his lips curving into a small smile. “It could be fun.”

I looked between the two of them, their excitement contagious. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be just another routine practice after all.

Author's POV

Hoseok took a step toward the speaker, pulling out his phone. With a few taps, a vibrant, bass-heavy beat filled the studio. It was unmistakably hip-hop—energetic, bold, and brimming with attitude.

As the music kicked in, Hoseok’s demeanor shifted. His previously shy, reserved aura transformed into one of confidence and charisma. His body moved effortlessly to the rhythm, every pop, lock, and wave executed with precision and flair.

Y/N stood to the side, watching in awe. Each movement seemed to tell a story, the way his feet glided across the floor, how his arms hit the beats with sharp precision, and the way his entire body seemed to breathe with the music.

He wasn’t just dancing—he was commanding the room.

But what caught Y/N off guard the most was the way he kept stealing glances at her. Hoseok’s eyes would flicker her way between moves, as if silently asking, Are you watching?

And oh, she was.

Jimin leaned casually against the wall, a knowing smirk on his face as he observed the scene. It was clear he had seen this side of Hoseok before, but seeing Y/N’s reaction made the moment all the more entertaining.

As the music reached its climax, Hoseok executed a smooth spin and slid toward Y/N with perfect timing. His hand extended gracefully as he ended his freestyle with a light kiss on her hand, his gaze locking with hers.

The gesture was playful yet charming, and it sent a jolt of electricity through the room.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she let out a shy chuckle, her free hand covering her mouth. “That was... wow,” she said softly, her voice laced with genuine admiration.

Jimin, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Hyung, that was smooth. Real smooth,” he quipped, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’ve been practicing that move, haven’t you?”

Hoseok laughed, his confident facade faltering slightly as his own cheeks turned a faint pink. “It just... fit the moment,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/N smiled, still flustered but undeniably impressed. “I don’t know if I can follow that. You’re incredible, Hoseok-shi.”

“You don’t have to follow it,” Hoseok said, his voice soft yet reassuring. “Just feel the music, like you do with ballet. That’s all hip hop is—feeling it.”

Jimin clapped his hands together. “Alright, Y/N! Your turn. Hoseok-hyung can guide you.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling within her. Maybe this was her chance to step out of her comfort zone—and maybe, just maybe, Hoseok had something to do with that.

Y/N took a deep breath, her nerves bubbling to the surface as she stepped closer to Hoseok. The confidence she felt during ballet practice was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by the uncertainty of trying something entirely new.

“Alright,” she said, her voice light with a hint of nervous laughter. “Don’t laugh if I mess this up.”

Hoseok grinned, his eyes sparkling with encouragement. “No one’s going to laugh. Just have fun with it.”

The upbeat music continued to play, and Hoseok took a step back, giving her space to try. Y/N mimicked his earlier movements, starting with an awkward attempt at popping her shoulders and shifting her weight from side to side.

It wasn’t smooth. In fact, it was far from it. Her movements were stiff, her timing just a little off, and her normally graceful posture clashed hilariously with the relaxed flow of hip hop.

But she laughed—really laughed—as she stumbled through each motion, shaking her head at herself. “This is harder than it looks!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her hands for a moment.

To Hoseok, however, she was absolutely adorable. There was something so genuine about the way she tried, how she wasn’t afraid to laugh at herself, and the way her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“You’re doing great,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “You just need to loosen up. Don’t think about it too much—let the music take over.”

Y/N nodded, biting her lip as she tried again. This time, she let her body move a little more freely, her laughter becoming a part of the rhythm. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better, and Hoseok couldn’t help but smile.

“See? You’re getting it!” he said, clapping his hands in encouragement.

“Am I, though?” Y/N teased, spinning in a way that was far more ballet than hip hop.

Hoseok laughed, stepping closer. “Alright, let me help.” He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder, guiding her into a looser posture. “Relax your shoulders, let your knees bend a little more... there you go.”

She followed his guidance, her movements becoming more natural. Even if she wasn’t a hip-hop dancer yet, she was having fun—and that was what mattered most.

Jimin, watching from the side, crossed his arms with a wide grin. “You two look like you’re in your own little world over there.”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “You’re supposed to be helping, not commenting!”

Hoseok chuckled, stepping back to give her some space again. “Ignore him. You’re doing amazing, Y/N. Just keep going.”

She smiled, her confidence growing with each step. For the first time in a long time, she let herself just enjoy the moment, free from the strict expectations of ballet or the pressure to be perfect.

And Hoseok? He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Park Jimin,” Mrs. Ka’s stern voice echoed through the room, sharp and commanding as always.

The sound startled all three of them, and Jimin immediately scrambled to pause the music blasting from the speaker. The abrupt silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the nervous shuffling of feet.

Y/N and Jimin quickly bowed, their voices overlapping as they greeted her in unison, “Good evening, Mrs. Ka.” Their nervous tones betrayed the respect they held for her authority.

Hoseok, however, was caught off guard. He stood frozen in place, unsure whether he should bow as well, and instead offered an awkward half-nod.

Mrs. Ka’s piercing eyes zeroed in on him immediately. She approached, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor as she examined him from head to toe. Her gaze was cold, calculating, and entirely intimidating.

“And who, may I ask, is this?” she inquired, her tone laced with disapproval as her eyes narrowed slightly at Hoseok’s casual attire and hip-hop stance.

Before Hoseok could stammer out a response, Jimin stepped forward, his smile nervous but polite. “This is Hoseok, Mrs. Ka. He’s a friend of mine—a dancer. He, uh... just stopped by to visit.”

Mrs. Ka raised an eyebrow, her eyes flickering between the three of them. “A dancer, you say?” Her tone was skeptical, as if the very idea of Hoseok qualifying as a dancer was preposterous. “What style?”

“Hip hop,” Hoseok replied confidently, though his voice remained calm and respectful.

Mrs. Ka’s lips pressed into a thin line, her disapproval evident. “Hip hop,” she repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. “I see. And what, exactly, are you doing in my studio?”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Hoseok said quickly, bowing deeply this time. “I was just showing Y/N and Jimin a few moves. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.”

Y/N stepped forward, her heart pounding as she mustered the courage to speak. “Mrs. Ka, Hoseok was just helping me loosen up. I asked him to. I wanted to... try something new.”

Mrs. Ka’s gaze shifted to Y/N, her expression softening just slightly. “And why, Y/N, would you think that hip hop—” she said the word as if it were distasteful, “—has any relevance to ballet?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Hoseok for a brief moment before replying. “Because... dance is about expression, isn’t it? Hoseok’s style may be different, but it has its own beauty. I thought learning from him might help me grow as a dancer.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, Mrs. Ka’s face betrayed the faintest flicker of surprise.

Jimin, sensing the tension, quickly added, “And he’s really good, Mrs. Ka. I’ve seen him dance before—he’s incredible.”

Mrs. Ka took a step back, folding her arms as she studied Hoseok once more. Finally, she spoke, her voice sharp but measured.

“Very well. If this... Hoseok wishes to share his talent, he may do so. But,” she added, her gaze hardening as she turned to Hoseok, “you will follow the rules of this studio. No disruptions, no unapproved music, and no interference with my curriculum. Do I make myself clear?”

Hoseok nodded immediately. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

Mrs. Ka straightened her posture, her presence commanding as ever. “Good. Y/N, Jimin, back to your positions. And Hoseok...” She paused, her tone almost grudging. “Show me this ‘hip hop’ you’re so proud of. Perhaps I’ll see if it has any merit.”

Hoseok blinked, surprised but determined. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping forward with newfound confidence.

As the tension in the room shifted, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at Hoseok, a small smile tugging at her lips. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but she had a feeling it was going to be unforgettable.

Hoseok glanced at Y/N, catching her worried expression. She gave him an encouraging nod, her lips curling into a soft, supportive smile. It was a silent message: You’ve got this.

He couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a sudden rush of determination. If there was one thing he was good at, it was letting his dance speak for him. And if this was his chance to show Mrs. Ka—and maybe even Y/N—what hip hop was all about, he was going to give it his all.

He stepped into the center of the studio, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms. His movements were smooth and deliberate, each stretch a prelude to the performance he was about to give.

Y/N watched with quiet admiration. There was something captivating about the way Hoseok carried himself—his confidence wasn’t boastful; it was simply rooted in his passion.

Mrs. Ka stood off to the side, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said curtly.

Hoseok nodded, pulling out his phone to select the perfect track. He scrolled quickly, landing on a song with an infectious beat that showcased the best of hip hop’s energy and groove. The first notes of the music filled the room, and Hoseok stepped into position.

As soon as the beat dropped, Hoseok came alive. His body moved like it was in perfect sync with the rhythm—sharp pops, fluid waves, and intricate footwork blended together seamlessly. Every move was precise yet effortless, his transitions so smooth it was as if the music itself was dictating his steps.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d seen him dance before, but this was different. This wasn’t just freestyle—it was a performance. He wasn’t just dancing to impress Mrs. Ka; he was showing the room who he was as a dancer.

Mrs. Ka’s gaze, though initially skeptical, softened slightly as she observed his technique. While hip hop was far removed from the elegance of ballet, there was undeniable skill and artistry in Hoseok’s movements. His control, timing, and emotional expression were all on par with any professional dancer.

As the music built to its climax, Hoseok executed a series of fast, intricate isolations before transitioning into a powerful freeze, balancing on one hand with perfect stability. He held the pose for a beat before landing softly on his feet, finishing with a subtle bow.

The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the music fading out.

Y/N clapped first, her hands coming together enthusiastically as her face lit up with a proud smile. “That was amazing, Hoseok!” she said, her voice breaking the quiet.

Jimin joined in, whooping and clapping loudly. “Hyung, you killed it!”

Mrs. Ka remained still, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke. “Impressive,” she said, her tone begrudging but honest. “You have control and creativity. And I can see you take this seriously.”

Hoseok bowed again, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said humbly.

Mrs. Ka’s gaze flickered to Y/N and Jimin. “Y/N, Jimin, learn from this. While the style may be different, the dedication and precision are the same. You may continue practicing. Hoseok, if you wish to observe or assist, you may do so—within reason.”

Y/N beamed, turning to Hoseok with a grin. “You did it,” she whispered, her eyes shining with excitement.

Hoseok smiled back, his heart fluttering at her words. “Thanks. I’m just glad I didn’t fall on my face.”

As the group returned to their practice, Hoseok couldn’t help but feel like he’d gained more than just the approval of a strict ballet teacher—he’d earned Y/N’s admiration, and that, to him, was worth everything.

As Y/N returned to her position on the floor, her energy bubbling with excitement from Hoseok’s performance, Mrs. Ka’s sharp eyes flickered between the young man and her student. She was a seasoned observer, skilled at picking up on unspoken gestures and subtle cues—and there was something about the way Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Y/N that piqued her interest.

Jimin, standing off to the side, caught it too. Hoseok’s usually bright and playful demeanor seemed to soften whenever he looked at Y/N, his smiles lingering just a little longer, his eyes carrying a warmth that didn’t go unnoticed.

Mrs. Ka didn’t comment at first, but her lips curled ever so slightly into a knowing smirk. “Jimin,” she said in her sharp, no-nonsense tone, causing him to straighten up immediately.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Perhaps you and I are witnessing something here,” she said quietly, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

Jimin followed her gaze, glancing between Hoseok and Y/N. Hoseok was standing off to the side, hands casually in his pockets, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N as she prepared for the next part of her routine. He looked proud, almost as if every move she made was worthy of applause.

Jimin’s lips tugged into a mischievous grin. “Maybe we are, Mrs. Ka,” he replied, his voice light with teasing.

Mrs. Ka hummed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she folded her arms. “Let’s see if this... admiration becomes a distraction.”

Meanwhile, Y/N, oblivious to the quiet observation from her teacher and friend, took her position at the barre. She adjusted her posture, preparing for the next exercise. When she turned her head slightly, she noticed Hoseok watching her.

“What?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a playful edge.

Hoseok blinked, caught off guard, and quickly rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing,” he said with a sheepish grin. “You’re just... really focused. It’s cool to see.”

Y/N blushed faintly, turning back to face the mirror as she suppressed a shy smile. “Well, I have to be. Mrs. Ka doesn’t let us slack, you know.”

Hoseok chuckled, and Jimin, standing nearby, leaned in to whisper, “Hyung, you’re not very subtle, you know.”

Hoseok turned to him, his face flushing slightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimin teased, smirking knowingly. “Just saying that if you keep looking at her like that, Mrs. Ka might make you practice pirouettes too.”

Hoseok laughed nervously, glancing at Mrs. Ka, who was now observing them all like a hawk. “I’m just appreciating her focus,” he mumbled defensively.

“Sure, sure,” Jimin said, his grin widening.

Mrs. Ka cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “If you’re done gossiping, Mr. Park and Mr. Jung, perhaps you’d like to join us in practicing discipline,” she said pointedly, her gaze lingering on Hoseok.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jimin replied quickly, biting back a laugh.

Hoseok nodded as well, stealing one last glance at Y/N before focusing on Mrs. Ka’s instructions. But even as he tried to concentrate, his thoughts kept drifting back to the graceful ballerina who, without realizing it, had captured more than just his admiration.

Mrs. Ka, ever the curious yet composed figure, finally shifted her full attention to Hoseok after observing his interactions and dance performance. Her arms remained crossed as she approached him, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

“Mr. Jung, was it?” she asked, her tone sharp yet neutral.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hoseok replied respectfully, standing a little straighter under her scrutinizing gaze.

“I must admit, your performance surprised me,” she began, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Your movements are precise, and your sense of rhythm is exceptional. But I know nothing about you. Tell me, how old are you?”

Hoseok hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden questioning. “I’m 16, ma’am.”

“Sixteen,” she repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “And where are you from?”

“I live in Gwangju originally, but I’ve been staying here in Seoul to pursue dance more seriously,” Hoseok explained.

Mrs. Ka raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what, exactly, do you hope to achieve with hip hop dance?”

Hoseok’s face lit up with passion as he replied. “I want to be one of the best, ma’am. I want to inspire people with my style and show them how much emotion and storytelling can come through in hip hop. It’s not just moves to me—it’s a way of expressing everything I feel.”

Mrs. Ka studied him carefully, her sharp gaze softening just slightly as she caught the sincerity in his voice. “Ambitious,” she remarked. “And how did you come to be friends with Mr. Park?”

Jimin grinned, stepping forward to answer for him. “We go to the same school, ma’am. Hoseok’s known for his dancing there. I saw him practicing once, and we started talking about dance. The rest is history.”

Mrs. Ka nodded, her attention returning to Hoseok. “You seem determined, Mr. Jung, and I respect that. But I warn you, the world of dance—any style of dance—requires more than passion. It demands discipline, commitment, and the ability to adapt. Do you think you’re prepared for that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hoseok replied confidently. “I’m willing to work hard to get better, no matter what it takes.”

Mrs. Ka gave a small nod of approval, her stern demeanor easing slightly. “Very well. You may continue visiting this studio with Mr. Park, but only if you remain respectful of my rules and contribute positively to the atmosphere here. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Hoseok said, bowing deeply.

Mrs. Ka turned to Y/N, who had been watching the exchange silently, her hands clasped nervously. “Y/N, if Mr. Jung is going to be spending time here, perhaps you can show him the discipline and grace of ballet. You might both learn something from each other.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Mrs. Ka’s sharp gaze flicked back to Hoseok one last time. “Don’t make me regret allowing you in here.”

“I won’t, ma’am,” Hoseok promised.

As Mrs. Ka turned and walked away, Jimin elbowed Hoseok playfully. “Well, hyung, looks like you’re officially part of the ballet squad now.”

Hoseok chuckled, his eyes drifting to Y/N, who was smiling shyly at him. “I guess I am,” he said softly, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

The chilly night air accompanied the sound of footsteps echoing down the quiet streets of Seoul. Y/N walked between Hoseok and Jimin, her ballet bag slung over one shoulder. The streets were peaceful, lit by the warm glow of streetlights, and the three of them chatted casually as they neared Y/N’s house.

“I still can’t believe Mrs. Ka let you in the studio, Hoseok,” Y/N teased, nudging him lightly. “She usually doesn’t warm up to anyone that fast.”

Hoseok grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’m just that charming,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Jimin.

“More like she was impressed by your dancing,” Jimin said. “And maybe the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at Y/N helped.”

“Jimin!” Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks heating up as she glared at him.

Hoseok’s ears turned red, and he shot Jimin a warning look. “Yah, stop saying stuff like that!”

Jimin just smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “What? It’s true.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to change the subject. “Anyway, thanks for walking me home, guys. It’s nice not having to walk alone for once.”

“We wouldn’t let you,” Hoseok said sincerely, glancing at her. “It’s not safe this late.”

The trio arrived at Y/N’s house, and she dug into her bag for her keys. Before she could open the door, it swung open, revealing her father. He was dressed in his usual business attire, but his tie was loosened, and he looked tired from another long day.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice warm but tinged with surprise. His eyes flicked to Jimin and Hoseok, lingering on the former. “You’re home late.”

“Practice ran long,” Y/N replied, stepping aside to let her father see her companions. “Oh, and this is Jimin—you remember him from school—and his friend Hoseok.”

Her father’s expression softened slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on Jimin. “Ah, Jimin,” he said, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. “You’re the one Y/N’s always mentioning.”

“Dad!” Y/N protested, mortified.

Jimin chuckled nervously, bowing politely. “It’s nice to meet you again, sir. I just wanted to make sure Y/N got home safely.”

Her father raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s very considerate of you.” Then, after a pause, he added, “You know, I’ve always wondered… are you and my daughter—”

“Dad!” Y/N cut him off, her face turning bright red. “Jimin and I are just friends. Don’t start.”

Jimin laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, sir. Just friends.”

Her father gave a small, knowing smile but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned to Hoseok, who had been quiet the whole time. “And you’re... Hoseok, was it?”

“Yes, sir,” Hoseok said, bowing respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her father nodded, his expression appraising. “You’re a dancer too?”

“Yes, sir. Hip hop,” Hoseok replied, standing a little straighter.

“Hm. Well, thank you both for looking out for my daughter,” her father said, his tone genuine. “It’s nice to know she has good friends.”

Y/N smiled shyly, feeling a sense of relief as her father stepped aside to let her in. “Thanks again, you two,” she said, turning to Hoseok and Jimin.

“No problem,” Jimin replied with a grin.

“Anytime,” Hoseok added, his smile warm.

As they walked away, Y/N could hear Jimin teasing Hoseok under his breath. “I think her dad likes me better than you, hyung.”

Hoseok groaned. “Yah, I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she closed the door, shaking her head at the two of them.

It was Saturday evening, and the tension in Y/N’s house was unbearable. Her mother, who had been absent for most of her life, stood in the living room, her sharp voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

“I have every right to see her!” her mother yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at her father.

“You walked away from her when she was two,” her father retorted, his voice firm but controlled. “You don’t get to show up now and demand anything.”

Y/N stood frozen at the top of the stairs, clutching the banister tightly. She hadn’t seen her mother in years, and now, here she was, trying to take her away from the life she had built with her dad.

“I’ve changed,” her mother insisted. “I can give her a better life—better opportunities.”

Her father’s jaw clenched. “You think money is all that matters? Y/N has a home here. She’s happy. She doesn’t need you disrupting her life.”

Unable to listen anymore, Y/N bolted down the stairs, tears already welling up in her eyes. “Stop it!” she shouted, her voice trembling. Both her parents turned to look at her, their argument coming to an abrupt halt.

“Y/N,” her mother said softly, taking a step toward her. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” Y/N’s voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You think showing up after all these years and trying to take me away is what’s best for me?”

Her mother’s face fell, but Y/N didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed her jacket and ran out the door, ignoring her father’s calls for her to stop.

Y/N didn’t know how far she had run, but she eventually found herself in a bustling plaza. The sound of music and cheering snapped her out of her thoughts. A crowd had gathered around a makeshift stage where a street dancing competition was in full swing.

She weaved through the crowd, her heart still pounding from the argument and the run. As she reached the front, she froze. There, on the stage, was Hoseok.

He moved with such energy and precision, his passion evident in every step. The crowd roared as he ended his routine with a powerful move, his confidence radiating as he smiled and bowed.

As Hoseok stepped off the stage, his eyes scanned the crowd—and then he saw her. His smile faltered when he noticed her red, tear-streaked eyes. Without hesitation, he made his way toward her.

“Y/N?” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What happened?”

Y/N tried to wipe her tears away, but they kept falling. “I… I just needed to get away,” she whispered.

Hoseok placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the crowd to a quieter corner. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice soothing. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But the moment she looked at his kind eyes, the words spilled out. She told him everything—about her mother’s sudden appearance, the fight, and how she felt torn between two worlds.

Hoseok listened intently, his expression softening with every word. When she finished, he said, “I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you, but you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here, okay?”

Y/N nodded, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Hoseok.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Let’s do something to take your mind off things.”

The two spent the next few hours wandering around the plaza, eating street food and laughing as Hoseok did silly dance moves to cheer her up. For the first time that evening, Y/N felt a sense of peace.

As the night deepened, Y/N’s father arrived at the plaza, his eyes scanning the crowd frantically. When he finally spotted her sitting on a bench with Hoseok, relief washed over his face.

“Y/N!” he called, rushing over.

Y/N stood up, guilt and worry written all over her face. “Dad, I’m sorry—”

Her father pulled her into a tight hug, cutting her off. “Don’t apologize. I was so worried about you.”

Hoseok stepped back, giving them space, but Y/N’s father turned to him with a nod of gratitude. “Thank you for looking after her,” he said sincerely.

Hoseok smiled. “Of course. I’m glad I could help.”

Y/N looked between the two, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions. In that moment, she realized how lucky she was to have people who cared so much about her.

As they made their way home, Y/N glanced at Hoseok one last time, her eyes meeting his. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she knew she wasn’t alone—not with people like him in her life.

Weeks had passed, and Y/N found herself spending more and more time with Hoseok. Whether it was sharing laughs over street food, practicing their respective dances together, or simply walking through the city, their bond grew stronger with each passing day. Hoseok had a way of making her feel seen, like she could be herself without the weight of expectations or judgment.

Jimin, however, had returned to Busan to visit his family. While Y/N missed her close friend, Hoseok filled the void effortlessly, and the two had become inseparable.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N and Hoseok sat on a park bench near a dance studio. Hoseok was scrolling through his phone while Y/N twirled a blade of grass between her fingers. The day was calm, and for once, Y/N felt a sense of stability.

“Hey,” Hoseok said, nudging her gently. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Y/N smiled softly. “Nothing, really. Just… enjoying the peace, I guess.”

Hoseok grinned. “Well, you deserve it after everything you’ve been through.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to see her father’s name flashing on the screen. Her heart sank; her dad rarely called during the day, and when he did, it was usually important.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice hesitant.

“Y/N,” her father’s voice came through, shaky and laced with emotion. “Honey, I—” His voice broke, and Y/N immediately sat up straighter.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

Her father took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s your mother. She’s filed for custody… She wants to take you to the U.S. to live with her and her husband.”

Y/N felt the world tilt around her. “What?!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “She can’t do that. I don’t want to go!”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m doing everything I can to fight it,” her father said, his voice cracking. “But she has money, and she’s pulling strings to make this happen. I’m scared, Y/N. I can’t lose you.”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she gripped her phone tightly. “You won’t lose me, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hoseok, who had been quietly observing, reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/N glanced at him, her vision blurred by tears, and he gave her an encouraging nod.

“I’ll come home now,” Y/N said into the phone, her voice steadier than she felt. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Her father sniffled on the other end. “Okay. Be careful, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

When she hung up, she turned to Hoseok, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “She’s trying to take me away,��� she said, her voice cracking. “She wants to send me to the U.S. to live with her and her new husband.”

Hoseok’s expression darkened with concern. “She can’t just uproot your life like that. You have a say in this, Y/N.”

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, wiping her tears away. “I feel like everything’s falling apart.”

Hoseok stood and extended his hand to her. “You’re not alone in this. Let’s go. I’ll walk you home, and we’ll figure this out together.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. His warmth and confidence steadied her, and she nodded. “Thank you, Hoseok. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As they made their way to her house, Hoseok stayed close, offering quiet reassurance. Y/N couldn’t shake the dread settling in her chest, but with Hoseok by her side, she felt a glimmer of hope.

The courtroom was heavy with tension as Y/N sat beside her father, her hands trembling in her lap. Across the room sat her mother, poised and confident, with her lawyer presenting a compelling case. Hoseok was seated in the gallery, his presence a quiet but constant source of support. Every now and then, Y/N would glance back at him, and he’d give her an encouraging nod or a soft smile, trying to keep her spirits up.

Her father, however, looked drained. The stress of the trial, the fear of losing his daughter, and the weight of fighting an uphill battle were etched into every line on his face. Y/N’s heart broke seeing him like that.

When the judge finally spoke, the room seemed to hold its breath.

“After careful consideration of all presented evidence and arguments, the court finds that the custody of Y/N Y/L/N will be granted to her mother, effective immediately.”

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut. Her heart sank, and tears sprang to her eyes. Her father’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his composure.

“No,” Y/N whispered, her voice cracking. “This isn’t fair.”

Her mother stood, her face a mix of triumph and a feigned sadness. She approached Y/N, reaching out a hand. “Sweetheart, this is for the best. You’ll have a wonderful life in the U.S. with me.”

Y/N recoiled, her emotions boiling over. “You don’t know what’s best for me! You’ve been gone for years, and now you think you can just swoop in and take me away?” Her voice trembled with anger and heartbreak.

“Y/N,” her mother began, but Y/N shook her head.

“No! I want to stay with Dad. I don’t care what the court says,” she cried, turning to her father, who looked utterly broken.

Hoseok stood from the gallery, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to rush to her, to tell the court how much her life here mattered, how much she didn’t want this, but there was nothing he could do.

As the bailiff stepped forward to gently urge Y/N to leave with her mother, Hoseok finally moved. He caught her gaze and mouthed, “I’m here.”

Y/N’s tears flowed freely as she nodded at him, grateful for his unwavering support even in the face of something so devastating.

Later that evening, Hoseok found Y/N sitting alone on a bench in the park where they often spent time together. She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes red and swollen.

He approached quietly, sitting down beside her without a word. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy but somehow comforting.

“Everything’s changing,” Y/N finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to go, Hoseok. I don’t want to leave my dad, or my friends, or… you.”

Hoseok’s chest ached at her words. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I know, Y/N. I know this feels impossible right now, but you’re stronger than you think. No matter where you are, you’ll always have people who care about you—your dad, Jimin, and me.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “But what if I lose all of that? What if I lose you?”

Hoseok shook his head firmly. “You won’t lose me, Y/N. I promise. We’ll figure out a way to stay connected. And when you need me, I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and leaned into him, finding solace in his warmth. Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she let herself cry.

As the night grew colder, Hoseok finally spoke again. “You have a voice, Y/N. Even if the court ruled against you, that doesn’t mean you stop fighting for what you want. Maybe this isn’t over yet.”

His words planted a seed of hope in Y/N’s heart, and for the first time since the trial, she felt a flicker of determination.

The dance studio was dimly lit, its familiar walls offering Y/N a fragile sense of solace as she sat on the floor, knees hugged to her chest. Her tear-streaked face was a portrait of heartbreak and anger. Jimin knelt beside her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, while Hoseok paced nearby, his frustration simmering under the surface. Mrs. Ka, standing by the barre, observed the scene with a quiet, protective demeanor.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Jimin said softly, his voice steady but full of concern. “We’re all here for you.”

Hoseok stopped pacing and crouched in front of her, his eyes locking onto hers. “Y/N, you don’t have to keep everything bottled up. Whatever you’re feeling—let it out. We’re here.”

She looked up at him, her lips trembling. “I feel like I’m being ripped away from everything I love,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s not fair.”

Before anyone could respond, the studio door swung open with a loud thud. The sound of heels clicking against the polished floor filled the room, and Y/N’s mother appeared, exuding an air of authority and impatience. Her perfectly pressed suit and cold gaze clashed sharply with the warmth and familiarity of the studio.

“Y/N,” her mother called, her tone clipped. “It’s time to go. Your things are already packed and sent to the penthouse. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick. Jimin and Hoseok both stood, instinctively placing themselves closer to Y/N. Mrs. Ka stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowing at the intruder.

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” Mrs. Ka said, her voice calm but firm, “you can’t just barge in here and uproot this girl’s life like this. Have you even considered what she wants?”

Y/N’s mother crossed her arms, her lips curling into a condescending smile. “This is not a discussion, Mrs. Ka. Y/N is a minor, and I am her mother. What I decide is what’s best for her.”

Mrs. Ka didn’t back down. “A mother? After years of absence, you suddenly swoop in, claiming authority over a child you barely know? This girl has built a life here, one filled with people who care about her. You think you can buy her love with a penthouse and a plane ticket?”

Y/N’s mother’s gaze hardened, and she scoffed. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. My lawyers have already secured custody. This is no longer up for debate.”

Hoseok clenched his fists but held his tongue, his jaw tight. Jimin, ever the peacemaker, spoke up, his voice steady but with a hint of defiance. “With all due respect, Mrs. Y/L/N, have you even asked Y/N what she wants? Or do you only care about winning this custody battle?”

Her mother’s eyes flicked to Jimin, her expression cold and dismissive. “And who are you, exactly? Another distraction in her life? She doesn’t need ballet friends or… street dancers.” Her gaze fell on Hoseok, her disdain palpable. “She needs structure, discipline, and a future that only I can provide.”

Hoseok stepped forward, unable to hold back any longer. “She doesn’t need someone who’s barely been there for her to decide what’s best for her. Y/N deserves to have a say in her own life. Maybe if you spent less time looking down on the people who actually care about her, you’d understand that.”

Y/N’s mother glared at him, but before she could retort, Mrs. Ka interjected, her voice sharp and commanding. “Enough. This is Y/N’s life we’re talking about, not a game of who has the most power. You may have won custody, but that doesn’t mean you’ve won her heart.”

Y/N, who had been silent throughout the confrontation, finally stood, her voice trembling but determined. “Stop.”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face. “I don’t care about penthouses or flights to the U.S. I want to stay with my dad. I want to stay with the people who actually know me, who actually care about me.”

Her mother’s expression softened for a brief moment, but it quickly hardened again. “Y/N, I know this is difficult, but you’ll thank me someday. This is what’s best for you.”

“No, it’s not,” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “What’s best for me is having a choice. And right now, you’re taking that away from me.”

Hoseok and Jimin exchanged glances, their hearts breaking for her but also swelling with pride at her courage. Mrs. Ka placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her silent support loud and clear.

Y/N’s mother let out a frustrated sigh, pulling her phone from her bag. “We’re done here. I’ll see you at the penthouse, Y/N. And don’t make me call the authorities to get you there.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the studio, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

As soon as the door closed, Y/N collapsed into Hoseok’s arms, her sobs breaking the quiet. He held her tightly, whispering soothing words as Jimin and Mrs. Ka looked on with concern.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Hoseok murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll figure this out together. I promise.”

Author's POV

The morning was unusually quiet as Y/N stood at the airport terminal, clutching her boarding pass. Her heart felt heavy, a mixture of sadness and resignation swirling in her chest. Her mother stood a few steps ahead, briskly checking documents and speaking with the flight attendant, oblivious to the storm raging inside her daughter.

Y/N glanced at the glass doors behind her one last time, silently praying for a miracle. She hoped to see her dad rushing in, Hoseok with that determined fire in his eyes, and Jimin offering his usual calm reassurance. But all she saw was the steady flow of strangers moving through the terminal.

Meanwhile…

Hoseok, Jimin, and Y/N’s dad were racing through the crowded streets of Seoul. Her father gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, as he cursed every red light and traffic jam in their path.

“We’ll make it,” Hoseok said, his voice firm, though his heart was pounding in panic. He looked at Jimin, who sat quietly in the back seat, worry etched into his face.

“She can’t leave like this,” Jimin murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Hoseok clenched his fists. “She won’t. Not if we get there in time.”

But deep down, a gnawing fear told him they might already be too late.

Y/N’s boarding gate was announced, and her mother gestured for her to follow. As they walked toward the gate, Y/N slowed her pace, turning one last time toward the terminal’s entrance. Her heart leapt when she spotted three figures running toward the security checkpoint—her dad, Jimin, and Hoseok.

“Dad!” Y/N cried out, her voice cracking with emotion.

Her father shouted her name, his voice filled with desperation. Hoseok and Jimin followed close behind, their faces etched with determination. But the security barrier stood between them, and the flight attendant ushered Y/N and her mother forward.

Tears streamed down her face as she mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before disappearing through the gate.

Hoseok froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched her leave. The sight of her disappearing felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He wanted to scream, to run after her, but there was nothing he could do.

Jimin placed a hand on his shoulder, his own tears threatening to spill. “She didn’t want this, Hoseok. You know that.”

Y/N’s father stood silent, his shoulders sagging as the reality of the situation sank in.

Hoseok clenched his jaw, his hands trembling. “I’ll find her,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Someday, I’ll find her. And when I do, I’ll make sure she knows she’s not alone.”

At 24 years old, Jung Hoseok had become a name known worldwide. From underground battles to global stages, he had risen to fame as a hip-hop icon and rapper, renowned for his incredible talent, charisma, and passion. He poured his heart into every performance, his journey fueled by one unwavering promise: to find Y/N.

Underneath the glittering lights and roaring applause, there was still a part of him that felt incomplete. Every city he toured, every crowd he performed for, he kept an eye out for her. He knew she was out there somewhere, and he wouldn’t stop until he saw her again.

One evening, after a sold-out show in Los Angeles, Hoseok sat backstage, scrolling through messages on his phone. His manager handed him a piece of fan mail—a handwritten letter addressed specifically to him.

As he opened it, his breath caught in his throat. The neat handwriting was unmistakable, and the words on the page made his heart race.

“Hoseok, if you’re reading this, it means I finally worked up the courage to reach out. I’ve been following your journey, and I’m so proud of you. I never forgot the promise you made that day, and I hope you know… I kept waiting. – Y/N”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as a small smile spread across his face. For the first time in years, he felt the pieces of his heart beginning to come back together.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice steady but filled with urgency.

His manager glanced at the envelope. “There’s a return address. She’s here. In L.A.”

Hoseok stood, his heart pounding as hope surged through him. “Then let’s go.”

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over Los Angeles as Y/N sat on the couch of her modest apartment, lost in thought. It had been years since she’d left Seoul, and though she’d managed to build a new life in the U.S., her heart never quite felt whole. Memories of her father, Jimin, and Hoseok lingered in her mind, often sneaking up on her when she least expected it.

The faint chime of her doorbell snapped her out of her reverie. She frowned, glancing at the clock. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Rising from the couch, she walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Slowly, she opened the door.

Standing there, with the biggest smile and teary eyes, was Hoseok. Beside him were Jimin and her father, both looking just as emotional.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his voice soft yet filled with so much emotion that it made her knees weak.

For a moment, she froze, staring at the three men who had been her entire world years ago. Then, as if a dam broke, she launched herself into her father’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

“Dad!” she sobbed, clinging to him tightly.

Her father hugged her just as fiercely, his own tears falling freely. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Every single day.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look at Jimin, who was already opening his arms. “Jimin-ah!” she cried, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Y/N-ah, it’s so good to see you,” Jimin said, his voice breaking.

Finally, she turned to Hoseok, who stood a few steps behind them, his hands buried in his pockets, as if unsure if he should step forward.

“Hoseok,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

He smiled gently, his eyes glistening. “Hey.”

Without hesitation, Y/N ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, holding her tightly as if afraid she’d slip away again.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I promised I’d find you, didn’t I?” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “And I never break my promises.”

She smiled through her tears, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of having them all back in her life.

The four of them sat together in Y/N’s small living room, catching up on everything they’d missed. Her father shared stories of home, Jimin talked about his travels and how much he missed their late-night ballet practices, and Hoseok recounted his journey to becoming the global star he was today.

“I’ve been following you,” Y/N admitted shyly, glancing at Hoseok. “I watched your performances, your interviews. You’ve come so far.”

Hoseok chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t just for me,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “Everything I did, every stage I performed on, I did it hoping you’d see me. Hoping it’d lead me back to you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and Jimin smirked knowingly, elbowing her lightly.

Her father, who had been quiet for a while, cleared his throat. “Y/N, I fought for you back then, but I didn’t fight hard enough. I’m so sorry I let you go. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N reached out to hold his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You didn’t let me go, Dad. You did everything you could. And now… we’re here.”

The reunion was bittersweet, filled with laughter, tears, and a renewed sense of hope. For the first time in years, Y/N felt like she belonged again, surrounded by the people who truly cared for her.

Later That Evening…

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm glow, Hoseok and Y/N found themselves alone on the balcony. The city stretched out before them, its lights twinkling like stars.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Y/N said, leaning against the railing.

Hoseok smiled, leaning beside her. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I never stopped looking for you. And now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go.”

She turned to him, her heart swelling. “Thank you, Hoseok. For everything.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Stay,” he said simply, his voice soft but resolute. “No matter what happens, stay with us. With me.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded. “I promise.”

Hoseok smiled, and in that moment, with the city lights shimmering around them and the promise of a brighter future ahead, everything felt right. Everything is now dancing in harmony.

[sunskate]

2024 Cup of China November 22-23, 2024 Chongqing, China

G/F's FD is a misfire. skating right after Marjo and Zak whose FD is emotional highlighted how theirs is cold by comparison. for G/F to do well with this program, they'd have to be surgical in their precision, which they weren't today. i thought maybe their intention was to be exciting and edgy, but the new costumes are pretty conventional - hers is a regular skating dress. it emphasizes how their sensibility isn't daring. Lopareva/Brissaud do the edgy lane much better. so G/F eked out a FD win over LaLa by less than a point - LaLa had higher TES, but G/F won with skating skills

LaLa - i was already tearing up in the dance spin when she bends her head to his haha it's so interesting how the same move can be emotional again no matter how many times they've done it. in that way, they're the musicians among the dancers. the same song you love can make you feel things the 10th or the 100th time you've listened to it. they're going to need more fresh material for Olympic season, but for now, this is still working because they're leveling up in performance. they're so good at the big strokes - they understand how to build the program. but having the emotional depth and performance and skating ability to pull that off is what sets them apart

CPom - not their best skate, they still did very well, but that final bit of fire and attack and flow wasn't quite there today. they collided with Olivia and Tim during the 5 minute warmup, and even though it was Olivia who got knocked down, i kind of wonder if these nice people were shaken up more. Olivia and Tim also had a great skate, and the judges went for them more - CPom had higher BV and PCS, but S/D went ahead of them in the FD on their higher GOE

but CPom making the podium at both of their Grand Prix is a huge achievement. and doing both GPs in Asia with such a short turnaround is resilience and training. they're having an amazing season so far. so now a little break and some sleep before a push towards Nationals 🔥❤️

Olivia and Tim looking so good - really happy for them 😭 after some really rocky times and a lot of comments about it not working out (is TSL ever right about anyone's potential 😅) - Tim rising to meet Olivia and them having such good material is exciting

T/V - this tango program is very beautiful. they set such a high bar of difficulty and complexity with it, but i'm not sure it's entirely paying off - they have to be so perfect for the GOE to rain. like the mistake that dropped their score was so tiny compared to what they'd achieved to that point that it feels unfair. but there are a few moments in this where hitting the choreo exactly on the music would be huge, and they're a little bit off. so i hope we get to see it like that at Euros

Green/Parsons: this is a lovely program, but it feels too much on one level. if the energy is going to stay similar throughout, then emotionally it needs to be deeper, the flow more seamless, the skating more powerful or sharper to move up

Demougeot/Le Mercier: i'm not sure what happened at French Masters where it looked like they were getting dropped for Dupayage/Nabais- D/LeM are a far stronger team right now, and this was a good skate for them. glad to see them looking so assured. i didn't know this was a Benoit program, but it makes sense lol

Davis/Smolkin: this program is so strange how it has difficult and interesting elements, and then they'll do a bunch of stroking for half a lap to go into what looks like their most standard lift? i like the way the StaLi hits right at the drum beat from Kashmir at the start. Mark said she's playing Medusa - IAM doing another snake program lol though if you can't tell what it is from watching, is it working? in this field of stellar teams, i'm glad the scoring seemed restrained for them. though their PCS look really high, and at GP France this FD score would have had them in 3rd above R/A

[yourladystar]

Star's Engage Catalogue Day 34 (part 5)

I feel that it's only right to showcase the final team that will be joining me.

And I have to split it into 2 posts because Tumblr has a 10-picture limit.

Don't really think I have to explain why Alear has been a strong fighter. You see those stats and you see why I had Marth stick with him, those two are a perfect fit.

But I wanna talk about how shocked I am by Alear's character. He's genuinely up there with Corrin and Shez as one of the best avatars this series has done. His story is engaging, he's a joy to watch in anything he does or says, his voice acting is immaculate, he's so God flippin adorable! I'll definitely talk more about him another time, but he managed to become one of my favorite characters in all of Fire Emblem, something I never expected to happen playing this game!

Again, don't think I need to explain why a dancer is good. And while Corrin worked with him for a while, Byleth is a better option, especially with the stats he gives.

And Seadall surprised me with his character. His alluring nature and way of speaking, his wisdom and experience from his past, the struggles he deals with from his lifestyle, and the way he can inspire others even when he doesn't believe in himself. I don't know how some of y'all can say he's boring, this sh*t is lovely.

Also he's pretty as hell, but I think you can see that.

Rosado has been a reliable fighter who can just about any enemy I have him face. Good stats, weapon variety and flyer mobility make him extremely versatile. Leif has been the best fit for him, since his stat boosts and skills work best for how Rosado functions in battle.

His character is also wonderful. A perfect evolution of Forrest and wonderful rep for trans, genderfluid, crossdresser's, and gender questioning people in a time where they really need positive representation. Plus he's spunky and sassy while also being caring and supportive.

Amber is a weirdly good example of hard-hitting but fragile. His low speed and res make him susceptible to one-hit kills, but the enemy can't do that if he doesn't kill them in one hit first. Eirika also works weirdly well for him, as the twins' skills suit whatever I need him to do that turn.

But I can overlook all of that for his character. I love this doof! He's so dumb and goofy but filled with so much positivity and cheerfulness it's hard not to smile at his antics. Even when he royally f*cks something up, you can't help but smile and go, "Youre doing amazing, sweetie."

Alcryst might just be the strongest member of my team and Lyn really helped to bring out his true potential. Her skills perfectly suit his play style and ensure that any he fights will not survive, whether it'd be death by crit, death by Luna, or Alacrity stopping the opponent from even fighting back. And with me giving him avoidance skill, literally nothing can even touch him. It's honestly ridiculous how busted this unit is.

And don't get me started on how much I love this little skrunkly! He stole my love the second his first scene ended and it only got better with each scene he got. I just wanted this boy to have love and happiness and seeing him get that from everyone in his life- his brother, his retainers, his friends, his boyfriend- they all just make me smile.

Alfred has a rocky middle, but he really picked up. Once I started utilizing the resources I got and realized that he got swords after being promoted, Alfred really came into his own and started being a powerhouse. Sigurd has been his Emblem since the start. No one else can really utilize his movement the same way Alfred does.

Alfred also shocked me with his character. I already liked him enough for the goofy and entertaining meathead he was, but the second I unlocked his A-support with Céline, everything I perceived about him changed! He went from being just a fun and silly presence to one of the most tragic yet hopeful characters in this. Someone who, even knowing they have little time left, refuses to give up and continues to strive forward to protect everything and everyone he cares. Someone who doesn't ask for your pity and will always be put you first.

I couldn't have picked a better person to give the Pact Ring to.

Alflear for life, baby!

Zelkov is a unit that started off good and continued to be good throughout the entire game. I've never been in a position where it felt like bringing him along was an inconvenience, even when there was no chest for him to unlock. Hell, for the longest time, he didn't even need an Emblem to assist him, but when I did decide to give him one, the Three Houses lords for him like a glove.

And God, I love listening to him talk! I had no idea what to expect out of him during the lead-up to Engage, but I am so happy with what I got. An enigmatic and mysterious yet sweet, caring, and helpful man who seems like an autistic coded goat on the surface but is just using his many hobbies to avoid dealing with the trauma of his childhood- that is right up my alley!

I'll do the second half in the next post.

[evelhak]

✨ I'm so high that I need to get my feelings out somewhere, I don't care, I'm gonna overshare about ballet now big time because I had an amazing day, just one of those you're going to remember forever! ✨

Ballet has always been a rocky road for me, as someone with invisible disabilities and also just plain bad luck. I'm stubborn, and I always come back, but I can't pretend the feeling of hanging from the backdoor handle of a moving car isn't something that has been constantly following me. I don't really have a choice but to keep hanging because I just love ballet.

I can't truly claim love at first sight doesn't exist, because when I saw ballet on TV the first time when I was about five years old, I fell head over heels and forever. There was just no way ballet wasn't going to be in my life forever. Pretty typical story, right? I feel like I've heard it a thousand times both irl and fiction.

And that brings me to how it's not really my bad times or disabilities that matter, you know? Well, of course they matter, as in they have affected me a lot, but it's the good times that matter more, because I'm still here. In the end it's always the ways in which I've succeeded and had enough opportunities and support that are bigger to me than my failures and bad times and the lack of necessities.

I may have often felt like the odds are stacked against me compared to most people I'm dancing with, but at the same time I had enough, you know. There may not have been a ballet school in my town when I first fell in love with ballet, but then by some crazy luck an ex national ballet dancer moved there and started teaching a small group, and I got started. I had to move away shortly and leave my best friend I started ballet with but in my new town I got to go to a real ballet school. That school went bankrupt and there were a lot of complicating factors before I got started with classes again after that, I got too sick to dance in high school, and after going away to university I was barely functioning but somehow everything led me to find a school that became a home to me for a decade. So, I think I learned this attitude from early on, that while I can't take anything for granted, if I persist, a better turn on the road will come.

This is all relevant to the day I just had, bear with me, I just don't know how else to tell this.

I was at my lowest point in ballet in high school. I wasn't any kind of natural talent to begin with, and I was behind because of several reasons. I had just started at a new school, hoping to get to take the regular ballet classes with my age group, but the teacher determined my pointe work insufficient at a single glance, told me I was simply not good enough to perform anymore, that it was too late, and I was put in adult ballet classes when I was 17. I felt this was unfair, because I wasn't given any chance to catch up, and I felt I could catch up, so I swore to myself I would kick ass in adult ballet by Christmas, and I would make them reconsider me.

Well. Otherwise good plan, but I got sick from the mould in my high school. I couldn't even go to school for the majority of my last year, much less dance.

After moving away for university I stumbled on a gold pot. There was this new, only a year and a half old ballet school that immediately spoke to me with its concept. "Relevé - the small ballet studio". It was literally the answer to all my prayers. A big reason why I was always behind technically was because I never received corrections; teachers didn't notice me. In Relevé the whole idea was that groups were so small that the teacher would have time for everyone. Also, that school was all about the love of ballet, and you didn't need to pass a certain bar to perform, it was all about creating the kind of ballets where everyone could do something. All adult ballet groups that wanted, go to go on stage too, not just kids and teens, everyone participated in the ways that best suited them. This felt basically revolutionary at the time, adult ballet was still usually so looked down upon.

I decided that in this school I would do everything I had ever wanted, there was no way I would let any opportunity pass me by. With finally getting good teaching, and my health being good to me for several years, I improved faster than I ever had. I was back on pointe and back on stage a few months after I started in that school.

Soon I began to feel passionate about defending adult ballet at every turn, not just for people like me who were sort of in-between, not having started as an adult, but for the ones who had too, because I was finally at a place where I saw adults bloom! And not only did they not lose to teens in their love for ballet, so many of them were also good by standard measuring sticks. "You started too late to amount to anything" was becoming such a myth to me, and I really, really wanted to help prove that myth wrong in the stuck-in-its-ways ballet world.

When the school's representative group went to their first competition, and our teacher asked us advanced adults if we'd want to go too, since an adult category had just been added, I was prepared to do everything I could to convince the others to go. It wasn't easy for everyone to stop feeling like we'd be laughed out of the stage, especially one student who was technically the best of us despite having started in her twenties, but I was desperate, and thankfully everyone agreed and we ganged up on that one key person to convinve her in the end.

Plot twist, we were the only adult group in the whole country to sign up. That's how undervalued adults still were. So our category was cancelled and we competed with the 16-19 year-olds, which was the most advanced category in an amateur competition. We took home bronze. After that, we were never the only adult group anymore, the number kept increasing year after year.

Soon, I made it back to the regular ballet classes too, but I continued to take adult classes for years, because my heart was still there too. I felt like I had found the perfect balance between the love of dance and also the drive to improve and meet some "objective" standards. The line between adult groups and regular groups was becoming more and more muddled in the school.

But even there, the school's representative group still didn't take adult students, the maximum age was 19. I'm not sure how I got into that headspace exactly, but somehow I couldn't help but think: "I'm gonna change that". I just felt strongly that if I was stubborn and motivated enough, I could. It happened when I was 25. Some original members had left the city to study, and I guess I had been stubborn enough, I had been taking every possible class the representative students also went to, and I made sure I was always volunteering for everything, so maybe that helped, because I was invited to the group.

The following years were my best ballet years yet. I did everything I had never been good enough for before, I had my first solo on pointe, first solo in a competition, first group gold to bring home. On my first year I also got the most advanced student's scholarship, which would have been a pipe dream for me in the past.

I just realised some pictures of my favourite roles might make this post more interesting...

Glinda:

The Wizard of Oz, from the same ballet, obviously:

Some pseudo-artistic edit of me as the Nutcracker/Prince:

I also began teaching adult ballet in a local community school, which was so fulfilling for me, because I got to be there to make those people's dreams come true who had wanted to dance since they were kids but never got the chance before. That was just so, so incredibly meaningful to me because I think ballet is for everyone, especially because the history and culture of it still so often seem to say that it isn't. I've literally heard adults wonder, in late 2010s if there's a weight limit to starting ballet. Heartbreaking, right?

Here's what's supposed to be a funny picture I had to take to introduce myself to my students: (I was clearly into the blurry effect lol...)

I'm sure you can guess the next plot twist, right? Covid came, so everything was closed for a while. Then, I got sick again. At my worst I was horizontal for weeks, and my strength was disappearing to a point were I thought this time this is it, this time I will not dance again at the level I used to. But whatever right? It's not like I hadn't been there before, it's not like I hadn't had those thoughts before, so I guess there's always some voice telling me that if I just have the patience the time will come when I don't feel like that anymore.

Here's me trying to get my strength back after a summer of mostly lying down:

But life really continued to slam me in the face then, because when I was starting to recover, I got Covid. (The effects lasted about 6 months.) And while I was still recovering from that, like, almost right after the acute sick days were over, divorce was dropped on me completely out of the blue.

At that point I was too sick to work and support myself, so I moved back to my parents' house. As soon as I was enough on my feet, I looked for ballet classes... can you guess? About a year ago, by this yet another strange turn of coincidences, I ended up back in that dance school where I had been told, 12 years ago, that I wasn't good enough, that I wouldn't be on stage again. So, I did what I've already done so many times. I built my body and brain back up. I started in the adult ballet classes. (Which perform in this school now! It has been incredible to be able to follow how much the appreciation for adult ballet has increased in the last decade! Something like that needs so many links, not even in a chain but a web!) And then, after I got some strength back, I got to go to the regular advanced classes in that school.

It's probably needless to say I've had a hard year. But now, I've just had my first performance since 2022. And I can't even describe how it made me feel to be back over a decade later, to dance Waltz of the Flowers (it's definitely not easy!) on pointe in this school that told me I just wasn't good enough. And to perform there not only with the advanced students, but I also did Giselle with the adult group I'm in. Both of those things were deemed impossible 12 years ago, for me to be on stage, and for adult ballet dancers to be there in general! Isn't it just poetic sometimes how circular life is? How it spirals? How the highs and lows move like tides? This is just the kind of thing that makes me feel very emotional about that.

Also, Waltz of the Flowers was the music I danced to, with my childhood best friend who I started ballet with, before I had to move away, so it's very special to me. Me and my friend were the oldest in our group, so we had the nerve to suggest to our teacher that we could choreograph a duo for ourselves for the spring performance. She said yes, of course, she always said yes to everything, and she was even going to get us real tutus (which we'd never had before). We were beyond over the moon, as much as any nine-year-olds can be. We were dead serious about everything even though I'm sure it just looked like child's play, but it didn't feel like it. Every day after school we would go to the top floor of the library, where there was this exhibition space that was perfect and empty and we choreographed our dance there and practiced like nothing in the world meant as much. We were best friends who danced together (and did everything else together). What in the world could ever be better than that? (Note from the 30-year-old me: Nothing. It's still the purest bliss I can recall. I really need to call this friend of mine this week, since I haven't in a while.)

Comparison photos of Waltz of the Flowers...

2003:

2024:

In short, to me Waltz of the Flowers was in many ways a closure and a parallel reflecting back on so many things in my ballet journey that I can't quite put it into words successfully. I'm just so happy that I got to do it.

Guess what more? I sprained my ankle half way through it. (The other ankle than the one I sprained at practise two days earlier!) The stage was full of holes (they always seem to be in city theaters...) and I landed in one, coming down from a jump. I felt a good "crunch", so I knew it was worse this time. But I didn't feel pain yet, because you know, adrenaline, so I continued the 3,5 minutes I had left, trying not to think about what damage I might be doing to my ankle, because show must go on.

Guess what more? I got a scholarship. We were the last performance, so I was still out of breath and wondering about how much my ankle was swelling when we stood in the back of the stage, listening to the end of the year speeches, and I have to admit I wasn't fully listening at that point, so I was like, wait what, did I just hear my name? I looked around, and the people next to me were looking at me like GO, so I went, and apparently I had heard right. And the thing is, I had only been in the advanced classes for half a year, I was not 15, I was 30, I was nowhere near my best shape, I had gained like 10 kilos in a couple of years, I was not in any way the kind of person that you'd think usually gets scholarships, so much less than I was when I first got one.

But at the same time... I was no longer like "I can't believe it's me", you know? I was more like "Cool, it's me." Because at this point I know that I'm good. Maybe not in the strictest ballet way. But in my own way, I am good, I know my strengths. I'm really motivated, I work really hard, I always get back up, I give the smallest roles every bit as much as the biggest ones, I have a naturally soft style and I've gotten praise on my technique, arms and legs during this year. I'm also creative. If I can't do something, I find a way to compensate, because I think about the big picture instead of getting caught in one minor thing. I couldn't count my fake splits to you, but numerous times I have danced choreographies that require splits, as the only dancer who can't do a split. This year I really needed to improve my stamina to get through the Waltz of the Flowers successfully, but I couldn't run, because my joint pain is too bad, and my chronic fatigue often prevents me from getting out of the house for anything that isn't strictly necessary, so going swimming was Impossible too. I needed a way to work on my breathing that was both joint-friendly and I could do while I was getting out of the house anyway. So, I started singing at the top of my lungs everyday when I was walking somewhere. It worked like a charm. (I didn't care about people's stares, but I live in a pretty remote area, anyway.)

By saying this was a closure I don't mean that it's any kind of an end. I don't even necessarily consider the times that I was in my best shape to always be my best times, because dance has always been more than that for me. So, I don't see being sick or getting older as any kind of deterioration. I still think that I probably haven't had my best and most interesting times yet. Your circumstances may not be what people see as a mark of success or potential, but you can still make it very interesting and fulfilling.

Who knows, maybe I'll get to collect a bigger series of pictures with sprained ankles with trophies I received in the same day? Well, I guess I hope not, but I do think it's funny that it happened twice.

(By the way, I can walk for short times without crutches, so it doesn't look too bad. :D)

If you're still with me, thanks for reading my self-indulgent rambling. If it by any chance brought to your mind any memories of your own, I'd be glad to listen.

I also wrote this because I want to spread the feeling that you get to be happy and proud and excited about the things you do, no matter what your level is. I'm not at all sad that I couldn't be a professional dancer, I'm beyond happy about everything that I can do, have done, and will do in the future. I've had really interesting times, this doesn't even scratch the surface, and I believe that everyone's stories are worth telling, so that includes my own.

Maybe this isn't the most tumblr-esque post one could make, but at the same time, out of places online it's definitely Tumblr that has the most appreciation for doing things for the heck of it, for the joy of it, so maybe this rambling belongs here anyway.

Towards new challenges! ✨

[moonpiemoonshine]

Dog eat Dog world pt.2

(I still don’t know what I’m doin but hope you enjoy)

Olivia recovered fast, having been treated by Rocky and getting lots of rest to let Rocky go and train with Micky. Rocky was getting in amazing shape, Mickey expressing his contempt and eagerness to finally get to train Rocky and have him be a good fighter. Olivia only came to watch Rocky train every once in a while, not wanting to be tempted to get into the fighting ring again. She hasn’t talked to her father since the incident, she was happy to not be bothered but she at least wanted a phone call. Since she doesn’t work at the bread shop no more, Olivia picked up a job at a small restaurant as a waitress just to get the cash flowing back up again.

At work Olivia ran into the man she had fought and without being met with anger Olivia was surprised that this man was rather fond of her, in a proud sense.

“Hey your the Steel Toed Dancer aren’t cha? I ain’t never thought I’d be knocked out by a lady, you are a hell of a punch” the man said with a cocky smile.

“Yea, wanted to test the limits on my fighting skills. I’m gonna stay at my peak before I get hurt or somethin” Olivia responds in a cheeky manner

“Well you don’t gotta stay at that peak, I’ve got word on a new underground tournament. A bare knuckle tournament, and get this it’s unisex if the woman can pass the trial fight. You don’t need no trial pass cause It’s in the records you’d already beat a man” this guy states with a confidence that won’t seem to break. He seems proud he lost her.

“Oh I dunno, doesn’t anything go for bare knuckle?” Olivia asked with worry in her tone

“You’d be perfect, you’d get to use your legs more in a match and you get to beat up all the men you want!” He beams with excitement and it creeps it’s way into Olivia.

“Well I’ll think about it” she answers hime and actually does her job and takes his order.

it’s late when Olivia finished work, the thought of fighting again haunting her thoughts. Fighting her own way and such a brutal and almost animalistic type of fighting tickling her with excitement and dread. She knows Rocky would not want this, and she can’t even comprehend how more painful this could be. How would she train, she needs guidance but the only person who comes to mind is her father. Getting closer to her apartment she decided to leave the thought on hold. If she feels brave enough she’ll talk to Rocky about it, but yet again he has that big fight and she doesn’t wanna stress him out more. Frustrated she gives out a exasperated sigh and opens the door.

Rocky sitting patiently at the bar table reading the newspaper, the sight alone makes Olivia wanna forget everything that’s been troubling her. Rocky heard the door and snaps his head to face the sound, he looks like a puppy waiting for it’s owner to come home. The thought made Olivia look at Levi and the two boys seem to be in the same position, patiently waiting for Olivia to come and make dinner.

“hey Rocky, sorry to keep you waiting” Olivia puts her jacket on the coat rack and Rocky gets out of his chair and heads straight to Olivia and gives her a firm hug.

“It’s no problems, I barley beat yous home” Rocky says when pulling away from the hug.

“I’ll start dinner, I’ll be quick so you can get to bed. I know training has you working at both ends” Olivia rolled up her sleeves and heading straight into the kitchen.

“It’s ain’t no problem to stay up a little longer, i gets to looks at yous more” Rocky sweetly states sitting back in his chair.

“Oh my oh my, what am I gonna do with you Rocky” Olivia hums and starts dinner. The two start to eat together on the couch after she finishes up cooking. They watch the tv and have small talk.

“I ran into the guy I knocked out” Olivia says out of the blue to spark a actual conversation.

“He ain’t givin you any grief is he? Just Keene know and I’ll knock him down this time” Rocky says with a hint of worry.

“No, no don’t worry. He was a real champ about it. Asked if I was still in the fighting game” she broke her eye contact with Rocky when those words left her mouth.

“Ya not. Right?” Rocky asked worry stinging Olivia.

“Yea I’m not, I wouldn’t wanna do that to you” Olivia stated putting her plate down and leaned on Rocky’s shoulder. “Sorry for brining it up” Olivia apologized.

“No, yous fine. Yous did nothin wrong. Let’s just head to bed” Rocky suggest and Olivia happily agrees. The two share a quick kiss and the two rinse out the

The night before the match Rocky leaves and goes to the stadium where him and apollos fight is gonna happen. Olivia feels the weight be lifted off the bed and lightly wakes up to watch Rocky leave. Olivia so tired couldn’t muster up enough energy to wake up and follow so she falls back asleep, but later wakes back up when Rocky returns. He is fully dressed and must’ve been gone for a while.

Rocky expresses how he doesn’t think he can do it, he doesn’t think he can win the fight. He vents to Olivia on how he’s a nobody and doesn’t deserve the chance he’s been given. Hearing his sad words makes Olivia sit up and hug Rocky from behind continuing listing to him rant. He talks about how nothing really matters if he loses and says

“Doesn’t really matter is he opens my head” and Olivia hugs harder into him

“Don’t say that, it matters to me, you matter to me” she says in a loving but serious tone.

“I just wanna go the distance” Rocky continues, he talks about how no one has gone the distance with creed and how if he does go the distance he’s gonna know that he truly means something and isn’t a bum.

“Well, I don’t think you’re a bum. If the bell rings and your laying down or standing up just know I’ll be here. You’ll always mean something at least to me” Olivia states sleepily and gives the back of his neck a kiss and lays back down and sleeps, Rocky doing the same soon after.

The next morning Olivia wakes up with Rocky, she quickly gets ready and meets him downstairs.

“What’s yous doin?” Rocky asks with a confused smile on his lips

“I wanna go with you to the stadium, I don’t wanna just meet you there” she answered waking closer to him.

“That’s alright with me, Mickey on the other hand” he said dragging on Mickeys name at the end.

“It’ll be fine” she replied wrapping her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips.

The two left to mickeys gym and surprisingly Mickey didn’t say anything about Olivia being there. They all head to the stadium and go to Rocky’s locker room. Rocky gets dressed in his white shorts and big gold robe. Rocky sits on his bench getting his hands wrapped and final touches being put on him. Rocky goes and prays at the sink and we give him his moment. Once he finished they go to leave and Olivia stops him.

“I’ll be right here watching.” She says placing a hand on the side of his face. Leaving a light kiss on his lips.

“Why don’t I watch and yous fight?” Rocky jokes and she rolls her eyes.

“Ha ha very funny” she responds and the two share a intense gaze

“I gotta go now, but don’t yous leave town. Wish me luck” Rocky says confidence slipping after every word.

“Good luck Rocky” Olivia states lovingly while Rocky leaves. He makes a joke about his robe being too baggy but Olivia pushes him to go and ready for the fight.

Olivia follows behind Rocky, once entering the stadium the spotlight being on them. They track through the crowd once Rocky gets to the ring, Olivia takes a front row seat. Annoyance hits Olivia when she sees the absolute fool Creed looks in his weird boxer George Washington outfit and then when he gets on the ring and puts his Uncle Sam hat on.

Once the announcer gets into the ring Olivia listens intently to the announcements of the boxers and Olivia just wants the match to tart already. When the ring of the bell goes off the match starts, police cringes at the missed jabs from Rocky but quickly gets excited when Rocky had knocked creed down. Now she expects this match to really turn up its pace.

After the end of the first round Olivia runs up to the ropes of Rocky’s corner. Helping Mickey give some advice, Olivia putting her two cents in of being just a smidge quicker. After the next round starts she goes back to her seat but Mickey wants her standing next to him.

Round after round the two big boxers went at it. Trading off who was getting the upper hand, both starting to get more and more tired. Olivia helps with the small breaks rocky gets between matches. At the end of the last round and the two of them didn’t fall down everyone crowed on the mat. Olivia being pined outside the ring. Interviewers asking Rocky questions but he’s yelling Olivia’s name. Finally Olivia sneaks into the ring and she runs up to rocky and holds him in a embrace and shouts

“You’d did it Rocky! I- I love you” she looks and him and his beaten and battered face a sight to see but tired and exhausted rocky responds.

“I love you too” and with that the two continue their embrace. Happy laughs leave Olivia in pure joy of seeing rocky come out alive and done well.

[elleenvs3000f23]

Week 7: Music and Nature - Nature and Music

Where is music in nature? Where is nature in music?

Nature in music

When I think of how nature exists in music, I remember how I feel when I dance and figure skate. Dancers are taught to use our breath in our movements, to give them strength , flow, and power. Musicians do the same when they sing or play, using the breath to power notes, find pause, and build rhythm. I think that at the core of music and dance, the fact that I find a life process crucial to mammals is very indicative of how innate music is to nature. To me, the breath in music connects us to the environmental cycles that keep us alive and proves that we aren’t separate from nature, we are part of it, and dependent on it. When I need to calm down, I breathe. When you step outside on a fall day you take a deep breath to take in the earthy smell of the season. We connect to nature and are part of nature because we breathe. 

I also think there is nature in music because we use metaphors and imagery in lyrics. Singers talk about weather like rain or sun as a proxy for emotions they are feeling, flowers represent beauty and mountains represent challenges. Because we have emotional ties to nature we lean on it when we self-express through music. 

Music in Nature

I’d like to think that other animals appreciate music as well. My dog Wally will often join me when I play guitar, he likes to rest his head on the instrument (he also used to try and put his head in the bell of my clarinet, I think he likes how the vibrations feel). There are also videos online of dogs singing along to music such as this duo on Britain’s Got Talent Meet Aaron and Buddy: the amazing SINGING DOG! | Auditions | BGT: Unseen - YouTube. However, I have no idea if he hears and experiences music the same way I do. Reading in Gray et al. (2001) that whales and birds naturally tend to structure their songs while writing similar rules and patterns to us gives me some hope that Wally appreciates and experiences music the same way I do. 

Gray et al. (2001) explains that whales and birds structure and compose music in the same way we do, but I had always thought whales and birds make music for a different purpose. My baseline assumption was that humans use music to entertain and animals use music to communicate and find mates. This week’s material made me reconsider this assumption, because communication and entertainment are not actually separate things. As interpreters we make our communication entertaining in order to gain attention, focus and interest and we make entertainment communication in order to cause social and behavior changes (ei inspiring conservation actions). 

Assuming that animals only communicate information with music might also be incorrect. Whales have a high capacity for emotional intelligence so it is reasonable to assume they don’t just share information, but also feelings in their songs. And what could be more romantic than birds singing to find partners just like we do when we share love songs. I am having a lot of fun considering how animals might share more than objective facts with music. 

Bonus: A song that reminds me of a natural landscape

Is He’s a Pirate from the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack. I am a runner and one of my regular routes takes me in and out of a cedar forest along a river. The second last kilometer is a rocky, up-and-down straight shot along the edge of the forest and the river bank and I have developed a habit of putting this song on and seeing how fast I can run the stretch. It makes me feel adventurous and strong which is always something I have loved about outdoor sports and spending time in nature.  I get to pretend to be a daring explorer like I did when I was little (a dream that I think spiraled into my current career in environmental science). Every time I hear it I can feel myself flying around trees and over rocks.

I am aware that it is considered rude online to talk about pets without sharing a photo so here is Wally :)

Gray, P. M., Krause, B., Atema, J., Payne, R., Krumhansl, C., & Baptista, L. (2001). The Music of Nature and the Nature of Music. Science, 291(5501), 52. https://link-gale-com.subzero.lib.uoguelph.ca/apps/doc/A69270354/AONE?u=guel77241&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=fb9366a8

[prnanayarquah]

Rocky Dawuni, Buyepongo, Jeremy Sole, Glenn Red, Kahlil Cummings, More for Afro Funke's 20th Anniversary

New Post has been published on https://plugzafrica.com/rocky-dawuni-buyepongo-jeremy-sole-glenn-red-kahlil-cummings-more-for-afro-funkes-20th-anniversary/

Rocky Dawuni, Buyepongo, Jeremy Sole, Glenn Red, Kahlil Cummings, More for Afro Funke's 20th Anniversary

KCRW & the iconic Grand Performances are teaming up for an extraordinary night in honor of the 20th Anniversary of Afro Funke’ on Saturday, July 22, 2023 from 6 to 10pm at Grand Performances in downtown Los Angeles! The event is free, all ages and picnics are welcomed. ​ Please come out and celebrate the legacy of the once weekly party night that turned global, with live performances from Rocky Dawuni and Buyepongo, plus DJ sets from Afro Funke’ resident DJs Glenn Red, and Jeremy Sole (resident KCRW DJ too!) and live drumming and dancing by the amazing Kahlil Cummings & friends! Join us for Afrobeat, Latin, Brazilian, Indian, Jamaican and other traditional and remixed world rhythms, plus African drumming and dancing, DJ Culture, arts & crafts, merch and much more!

About Afro Funke’​ ​Afro Funke’ which is celebrating its 20th Anniversary in 2023, was the brainchild of 3x GRAMMY nominated Afro Roots musician and activist, Rocky Dawuni, who realized LA’s need for a night dedicated to African music, culture and art and it’s far reaching legacy around the world. Afro Funke’ was a super successful weekly event every Thursday night at Zanzibar in Santa Monica for over 10 years with the generous support of owners Louie & Netty Ryan and then moved on to be periodic event throughout Los Angeles at various larger and smaller scale venues including Levitt Pavilion, Grand Park, Hammer Museum, Fowler Museum, Townhouse in Venice as well as international events.

​ ​Dawuni (who is now based back in his native Ghana,) together with producer, talent curator and photographer Cary Sullivan created Afro Funke’, bringing on board resident DJ and co-founder DJ Jeremy Sole (KCRW, Le Frique Sonique) Afro Funke’ has presented international guest DJs, live band performances, guest musicians, dancers, cutting edge films, record release parties, fundraisers, fashion shows, art and photography installations, crafts and more. Sole spins his unique “Musaics,” or sound collage-blends of hip hop, jazz/funk, dub reggae, afro beat, and remixed world beats; pieced together with tribal breaks, and uplifted by dubbed-out turntable manipulation and live instrumentation. DJ Glenn Red (La Junta) is our second resident DJ and is an integral part of the Afro Funke’ Sound System. Afro Funke’s profile has been greatly enhanced by its unique photo-based flyers which feature Cary Sullivan’s cutting-edge photographs of West African life.

  About Rocky Dawuni​ Afro Funke’ founder, Rocky Dawuni with his full 12 piece “Afro Roots Band” will headline the night. The three-time GRAMMY nominated musician and activist, straddles the boundaries between Africa, the Caribbean and the US that unites generations and cultures. A galvanizing performer, Dawuni has shared the stage with luminaries including Stevie Wonder, Ozomatli, Sauti Sol, Peter Gabriel and John Legend. Named one of Africa’s Top 10 global stars by CNN, he has showcased his talent at prestigious venues such as The Kennedy Center, Lincoln Center and The Hollywood Bowl. Rocky is a UN Goodwill Ambassador for the Environment for Africa. Through these and other designations he uses his music to shine a light on crucial issues facing humanity cross the globe through live concerts, speaking roles, panels, youth empowerment and much more​! ​http://www.rockydawuni.com ​ ​https://www.instagram.com/rockydawuni​ ​

About Buyepongo ​Hometown favorites, Buyepongo make contemporary pan-Latin music in the style they intriguingly call “buyangú” — an eclectic but cohesive mezcla of global beats and spicy flavors influenced by their California home base as well as the band members’ travels to Central and South America. https://www.instagram.com/buyepongo​ ​https://buyepongo.bandcamp.com/

  About Jeremy Sole ​

Jeremy Sole’s upbringing was seeped in the rich Chicago history of Blues, Jazz, Disco, Salsa and Soul – and he reveled in that space where they all blend together. As a teenager, Sole threw loft parties that were a culture clash during the birth of Hip Hop and House music. His obsession grew to include music from every corner of the world and, in 2001, Sole moved to LA. With a broad musical palette, he felt right at home in the spiciest melting pot in the country. ​ In April 2006, Sole was in the studio working with Ms. Lauryn Hill. After hearing him mix, she asked if he had ever considered getting into radio, “…because this is the music the people need to hear”. Months later, KCRW called to ask him that same question, and since then you can hear him Wednesdays from 12-3am on 89.9FM and KCRW.com.​​ https://www.instagram.com/jeremysole/​​ ​https://www.kcrw.com/music/shows/jeremy-sole​​ ​

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About Glenn Red ​ ​Known primarily for his work as half of Santa Monica’s legendary Afro Funké Sound System and one-third of beloved Afro-Latin deejay/producer collective, La Junta, GLENN RED quietly continues to forge a loyal following among fans of eclectic music, steadily rocking crowds in the city’s most respected venues alongside the finest selectors and musicians from around the world. With the honest music of passionate artists as a common thread, his deejay sets weave fluidly through time and across genres, connecting the traditional sounds of Africa and the Americas with their modern expressions around the globe. Afrobeat, Cumbia, Rumba, and Samba rhythms embrace Funk, Soul, Hip-Hop, and Reggae, as Glenn’s rhythmic and multifaceted sound echoes the deep, colorful, and spirited energy of LA and its soulful people. ​​https://glennred.com ​ ​http://www.instagram.com/glennzenn10​

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About Kahlil Cummings​ Kahlil Cummings, a Los Angeles native, is an acclaimed drummer, exceptional performer, composer, and educator. Kahlil was recognized as a child prodigy very early. He has played with numerous reputable groups including Ballet Folclórico Do Brasil, Sona Sané, Abalayé, Mila Samba School, Inu Olorun, Debbie Allen Dance Company, Les Amazones, and Viver Brasil. Kahlil honed his rhythmic gifts with noted teachers including Mestre Amen Santo, Jose Ricardo Sousa, Kobla Ladzekpo, Esteban “Cha Cha” Bacallao (Ibae), and Sandy Perez. His studies in Guinea, Brazil and Cuba have helped to widely broaden his knowledge and musical strength. However, he is most profoundly influenced by West African master drummer Mamady Keita, with whom he has studied since the age of 13. Kahlil is the founder of Extra Ancestral which began in 2017 as an ensemble that aims to educate audiences through the fusions of hypnotic Afrobeat, Reggae, Jazz, Afro-Latin, and traditional African diasporic rhythms, narrated by powerful ancestral dancing. Kahlil also plays and tours with international recording artists Rocky Dawuni, Kamasi Washington & many more. ​​http://www.kahlilcummings.com

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About Cary Sullivan​ Cary Sullivan is the co-founder and producer of Afro Funke’. She is a multi-talented photographer, artist manager, event producer, talent curator, promoter, activist and mother who has run the gamut of the culture, music & art landscape from coordinating festivals in Africa to producing progressive radio in Los Angeles. Cary co-owns and operates AQUARIAN Records, which is a record label and production company dedicated to bringing the eclectic culture of Ghana to the world through music, live concerts, photography, philanthropy and wellness; working primarily with GRAMMY Nominated musician and creative activist, Rocky Dawuni as well as a group of amazing up & coming artists. ​​http://www.instagram.com/afrofunke​

  About KCRW Summer Nights ​KCRW Summer Nights is BACK! We’ve teamed up with some of the best cultural hotspots around Southern California to throw the perfect summertime parties. These nights are FREE, all-ages, outdoors, and will feature your favorite KCRW DJs, bands, exhibits and more. So mark your calendar, dust off your dancing shoes, and spend the season with us! https://www.kcrw.com/summer-nights ​​

About Grand Performances ​Grand Performances, the longest running presenter of free outdoor concerts in Los Angeles, is returning this year to the newly renovated California Plaza in DTLA for its 37th season! Grand Performances mission is to inspire community, celebrate diversity, and unite Los Angeles through free access to global performing arts. ​ ​Please JOIN US on Saturday, July 22, 2023​ 6 to 10pm / FREE / ALL Ages Parking available on site for a fee Picnics and families welcome **Special thanks to Fusicology for all of their support!

Grand Performances ​350 South Grand Avenue Los Angeles, CA 90071 213-687-2190 ​http://www.grandperformances.org

PLUS we are doing a very special After Party from 10pm to 2am at ​The Moroccan Lounge right after the Grand Performances event which is just a few minutes away!! Please come through and let’s continue the Afro Funke’ 20th Anniversary Celebration!! ​ ​The Moroccan Lounge 901 E. 1st Street Los Angeles, CA 213.295.0610 ​$10 presale and $15 at door

[weepingmusicartisan]

PERFORMANCE TONIGHT!

Amazing Amy!  Yoga Go Bragh!  Celtic Contortion!  Shamrock Stretch!  Little Old Lady Leprechaun!  Riverdance Was Never Like This!  Performs in Leprecon!  Sat. Mar. 4th, 2023, 5 PM, Rocky McBride's, 27-01 23rd Ave, Astoria, NY, United States, 11105.  https://www.facebook.com/events/1554052308426113 ,https://www.flipcause.com/secure/cause_pdetails/MTU2NDA2

[antmutemorgan]

ASAP Rocky is a lucky man! Lol. Even when she is pregnant, her body is still amazing 😍. And she still has [sexiness] appeal. Rihanna’s comeback has been long awaited. She was up in the air, and had backup dancers—who were all getting jiggy with white jumpsuits and a lot of energy throughout the whole performance—; putting on her famous Fenty make-up brand, and lip-syncing her hit billboard songs: 1. “B-— Better Have My Money” 2. “Where Have You Been” 3. “Only Girl (In The World)” 4. “We Found Love” 5. “Rude Boy” 6. “Work” 7. “Wild Thoughts” 8. “Pour It Up” 9. “All of the Lights” 10. “Run This Town” 11. “Umbrella” 12. “Diamonds.” She stayed in on red (jumpsuit) outfit while revealing to the world she’s pregnant; showing her baby bump. (She already has a baby boy, many believe this next child would be a girl.) She said she watched Beyoncé (Jay- Z’s wife, and Blue Ivy’s mother—who were both in attendance for this super bowl 50, Kansas City Chiefs versus the Philadelphia Eagles at StateFarm stadium)— recent super bowl show for inspiration. I would have liked her to come out with special guests. Lip-syncing (with subtle movement—due to her pregnancy), revealing to the world that you’re pregnant, and backup dancers is pretty hard to stay entertaining for 13 entire minutes—with only those. But good or bad, we love RiRi! . #rihannasuperbowl #peach #lyricsthatgetme #nycopenmic

[loveyou2much]

“ holland, even if you meant it disrespectfully, i would’ve still liked it. a little disrespect can be fun sometimes.. if you know what i mean—“ sure luciana wasn’t a vanilla girl. it was rather hard for a woman in her occupation to not learn about amazing riskier sex could feel. the sensations that came with taunting and mocking, or the utter incredible feelings that came with edging and overstimulation. yet luciana would inform him of her kinks, unless he wanted to know… but she would keep him ignorant to her turn ons. a large part of her still wanted this thing they were doing to be pure, “i’d let you disrespect me, mr march.”

sure, okay, maybe that statement was extremely sexual and spoken with incredible sensual undertones. even her voice was littered in sex. but again, she wouldn’t pursue any of her dirtiest thoughts. luciana rarely made the first move, even if she really wanted him to. the fingers kissing his bicep would migrate his his chest where they danced little pattens onto the the other muscles . he did have an amazing figure which she hoped he knew. the dancer would slightly sit up with a gentle yet coy sigh now in the air.

“did you like the dance i gave you? i think, about it a lot—“ luciana was apart of her own mystery where she wondered where all her confidence stemmed from. yet in a matter of seconds that confidence would wilt and bashfulness would bloom. cheeks brewed heat and lips were gnawed by teeth. eyes once twinkling with the art of seduction were now admiring him through a flustered lens. her breathing pattern eroded into something rocky, her chest shakily rising and falling.

come to think of it , holland wasn’t sure how they got there . he couldn’t think too far back to when that evening started or his head would begin to hurt . he remembered how embarrassed and bashful he felt seeing her in his doorway for the first time ; that feeling was lingering , even now . constantly he wondered how she perceived him , and that night was no exception . what if she thought he was stupid or childish ?

as the credits rolled on the television set , holland stared at the ceiling in contemplation from his position on the sofa . he’d clearly grown more comfortable around luciana ; slumped down on his cushion with his knees hugged close to his chest . several bottles and glasses littered the coffee table in front of them . which was the perfect explanation for holland’s sluggish demeanor , of course . he wasn’t sure how luciana was feeling , too absorbed in his own state of mind - or lack thereof .

without moving from his spot , he’d crane his neck to get a better look at her from the other side of the couch . “ luce .. do you ever .. think about like .. the meaning of life ?” he wasn’t sure where the question came from . he also wasn’t sure how loud he was when he asked her - it was almost as if he’d briefly lost control of his own vocal cords .

@loveutoomuchh

[gh0stbra1nz]

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[ceceliinee]

Rocky Solo Debut 2021