#the fly with me event T_T

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is a breath of fresh air and bam loves you.

> fluff / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: jungkook gets his knees scraped and bruised T_T

note: hello :] these are actual events from my dream two nights ago (for the most part) so here you go 😭 feedback is always appreciated ^_^

—

they used to constantly ask you this question in every class: what is your biggest dream or desire in life?

and you still recall many of the answers you’ve heard: to travel the world. to see the northern lights. to climb mount everest. to own a mansion. to build the biggest mall in the country. to build a big happy family. to become an engineer. to become famous. to meet [insert a role model slash life-long inspiration]. to make my family proud. to invent the most accessible flying car the human population has been expecting since the ‘90’s. to marry my soulmate. to discover new species of animals so my name could be in the educational books forever.

everybody in the room has been planning their future around their ultimate dreams. everybody in the room knows what they want and what they must do to achieve them. they are following a process. ticking off the boxes on their list. tracing the footsteps on the map they designed.

everybody.

what is your biggest dream?

to breathe. it sounds tragically ridiculous to think about, much more to say out loud. why would you dream about something so . . . bare minimum? but swear to god, it’s the only thought that forms in your brain when the question is asked. to breathe.

your entire life, you’ve been holding your breath. the black smoke blowing on your face during the morning commute. at school where you’re surrounded by the most lively and lifeless people you’ve ever met. it’s draining and suffocating.

at work. your manager yelling right on your face. you hold your breath in and squeeze your eyes shut. the ride back home. the same black smoke. the fear and exhaustion radiating from the person next to you. a text from an unknown number reflected on their phone screen. pay your debts or i will expose you on social media and file a case.

they sniffle. and you hold in your breath. it’s none of your business. you shouldn’t care. you have your own problems to deal with. you hold in your breath to numb it all down.

“my sweet baby, you work so hard.” jungkook says to you lovingly, tightly embracing you close to his body. he gently rocks you back and forth, soothing the wooziness clouding your head.

with your face nuzzling against his chest, you breathe him in. the fresh smell of laundry. light and floral. it reminds you of youth. ah, and the natural scent of jungkook. milk. honey. faint tangerine from his afternoon snack. your home.

your paradise is jungkook’s embrace. in your head, there are no walls boxing you in. in your head, there is only a field of flowers that has no end in sight. the grass tickles you as the wind softly sweeps over the earth. as if it blows for the sole purpose of caressing your cheeks because the sensation lingers. but you want more. and so you let it carry you off the ground and you walk on the air, skipping through transparent stepping stones.

his lips ghost over your forehead, uttering the words you never thought you needed to hear. “do you want to get away for a little while? with me?”

you pop one eye open, and then the other. bam makes an entrance to the living room, holding a toy between his teeth. being tall enough to do so, he drops the blue dumbbell rubber toy (jungkook obviously chose the design, thought it’d be funny. became bam’s favorite overtime) on your lap. you blink at him, and he blinks back, smiling at you with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

you look up at your boyfriend with sparkling, pleading eyes.

“and bam? please?”

—

and that’s how you ended up here, five days later. laying on the couch watching sugar rush on netflix. it’s currently 3pm and you finished your first meal of the day not even an hour ago. which is understandable, given that you fell asleep at five in the morning. just like yesterday. and the day before that. you’ve established a new routine since you arrived in the rest house with jungkook and bam three days ago.

wait, house? more like mansion. with a swimming pool. and a basketball slash volleyball court. oh, and how can you forget the gym a few feet away from the kitchen when your boyfriend has been spending a lot of his time in there?

when jungkook said i know a place, you imagined a small cabin. or a resort by the beach. not a beautiful mansion in the middle of nowhere.

not that you’re complaining, though. you’ve been having the time of your life doing absolutely nothing productive.

it was only yesterday afternoon when . . .

jungkook gasped as soon as he entered the house.

“hi.”

“i thought you passed out!”

you turned to your side. with hooded eyes, you looked at him standing infront the glass doors. “i love it here. the floor feels so comfortable.” a sigh of pure delight escaped you. the first one in months. “it’s cold. and clean. and cold.”

his eyes darted to the air conditioner directly blowing on the spot of the floor you’re currently laying on. he approached you with a brief shake of his head, chuckling lightheartedly. “baby, come here. get up. you’ll get sick.”

“that’s just a myth- noooo-” you whined when your body got lifted off the floor, engulfed by the body warmth of your boyfriend who immediately picked you up instead of persuading you further.

“there’s a perfectly comfortable living room, baby. you can lay here, too.” he carefully laid you down the couch, your head perfectly placed over the soft square pillow. your hair formed a halo over your head, and the sight made his heart swell in his chest. he bent down to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

“i was perfectly happy being a starfish instead of a couch potato, you know?” you muttered against his lips.

he bumped his nose against yours with a smile playing on his lips. “how about being a starfish in the pool instead of the floor?”

you pushed his chest lightly with a scoff. “you know i can’t swim.”

“love, it’s only five feet deep.” he laughed, already picking you up to carry you in his arms again.

you grunted, evidently displeased. you were actually getting comfortable on the expensive couch. “are you really just going to keep carrying me to wherever you want to go?”

“ey, come on. bam is waiting for us outside.” upon the mention of his name, you tried to look for him through the big windows as jungkook walked. your eyes caught him laying by the big umbrella beside the pool.

and that’s where bam is again today. except instead of laying down, he’s zooming around the pool and the front yard chasing your boyfriend who made it his daily mission to burn calories while making his beloved dog happy at the same time.

you love playing with bam, too. you’re the lazy parent, though. you sit on the grass and throw a toy as far away as you can, and you wait for him to give it back to you. you make him guess which hand is hiding his special little treat, the left or the right one. on the days when you have more time to spare, you play hide and seek. uh yes, you’re the one hiding.

to be fair, you still exert some energy. as a matter of fact, you also find tug-of-war pretty fun. however, as he’s growing older, you’re scared that you won’t be able to stand a chance against him anymore.

you take a glance at jungkook and bam through the windows every now and then, especially when you hear laughter or barking. you start wondering if this is what peace truly means. usually, when something good happens, you get so overwhelmed with emotions. your heart aches and doubles, triples in weight until you feel it in your stomach. you confuse happiness and sadness, until it strings along guilt because for the love of god, why can’t you just take the fucking win?

but today, your heart feels light as a feather, your body light as air. this is exactly what you needed - to disconnect from reality. to spend special time with your favorite person. and favorite dog. to hear the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. to inhale fresh oxygen from the trees instead of black smoke from vehicles. to feel that you belong someplace in nature’s design.

but most importantly, to clear your head from the anxieties brought about being a member of the society. at this moment, the only floating thought in your brain is: how the fuck did they do that? referring to the fashion-inspired cakes made by the contestants in the baking show called sugar rush. the first cake shown is a detailed couture dress with intricate beading and carved patterns. on the other side of the kitchen is a gown with beautiful floral designs and bright pastel colors for the marbling of the fondant.

look, you were getting bored of crime documentaries yesterday. you clicked on sugar rush for shit and giggles because of the stark contrast of brutal murder cases with colorful desserts. but you’ve become far too fascinated with the art and science of baking to not finish all four seasons, including the separate christmas edition one.

“LOOOOVE!” jungkook’s whiny voice echoes through the house as soon as he arrives in the living room, bam following him idly with his tail wagging.

“whaaat?” you mimic his tone, eyes still focused on the television.

adamant on getting your attention, he rolls up his pajamas up to his thighs to block your vision with his knees. “i tripped by the pool. i’m bruised and bleeding.” his lips form a pout even while talking, eyebrows furrowed due to annoyance. hurting himself wasn’t exactly in the agenda today.

you immediately sit up on the couch and pause the show, and he waddles closer so you can inspect his injuries. his right knee is bleeding, and a big bruise is forming just a few inches below it. you’d say his left knee is fine, except it looks like the bruise will be worse than the one on the right.

given that your boyfriend is a dancer, seeing his knees with bruises isn’t new. but these bruises didn’t exactly come from dancing, did they?

“baby, wash it with mild soap under running water first while i get the first aid kit.” you tap his hip affectionately, urging him to hurry to avoid infection. his doe eyes watches every movement of your lips before he nods his head obediently.

he leaves for the bathroom while you head to your shared bedroom. bam becomes torn about who to tag along with, but eventually, he catches up to you.

he purposely brushes his fur against your legs to ask for attention. “hi, bamie. did you have fun today?” you scratch his head while your other hand is busy rummaging through your duffel bag.

he leans into your touch, moving closer to rest his cheek on your thigh. “did you get scared when daddy tripped? it must’ve scared you.”

he tilts his head, as if he’s trying his best to understand your words so he can formulate a response. “the both of you, i don’t think you understand your strength. you still lay on our lap like when you were a little baby but you’re almost as tall as me now. ah, and if i try to carry you, i’ll break my spine. i miss carrying you.”

he licks your thigh happily, his own little way of showing affection. for some reason, he really enjoys it when you talk to him.

“thank fuck.” you mutter under your breath when you finally fish out the first aid kit from the depths of your bag.

you continue talking as you and bam walk back to the living room. “and your dad . . . he got scared of himself yesterday when he jumped so hard on the trampoline he almost got thrown out. hah, i know you saw that too.”

you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your laughter when he barks as a reply. bam is always on your side.

however, your laughter transitions into a betrayed gasp. “how can you watch my show without me?!”

“oops.” jungkook smiles playfully, comfortably laying on the space you previously occupied. and watching the show you were previously watching.

when did it move on to episode 8 if you weren’t even done with episode 7 yet?

“move.” you mumble, lightly bumping your knees against his calves. he folds his legs to allow you some room to sit, then he extends them again over your lap.

“blaque and patty’s dress cake won in the last ep.” he puts you up to speed as compensation. “the first round just started. they need to make coffee flavored cupcakes. i think.”

you hoist his knees closer to your face. “coffee? i don’t really like that flavor.”

upon seeing what you are meant to tend to, you swiftly grab a gauze pad from the small box. with a sigh, you press it firmly on his right knee in an effort to stop the bleeding. “baby, you really scraped it. it won’t stop bleeding.”

he winces, sucking air in between teeth. “fuck, it stings. i haven’t scraped myself in years.”

you frown, not used to seeing him like this. the mere sight of him experiencing minor inconveniences affects you as well most of the time, which is funny because you know every human experiences them. ah, you know it all too well. but it simply feels unjust when it comes to your lover.

you lean down to lightly kiss jungkook on top of the fresh bruises forming on his skin. “i love you. just watch the show.”

your affectionate gesture tug at his heartstrings. if this was an anime, he would have pink fluttering hearts for irises.

he reaches out to tuck the hair covering your face behind your ear. “i love you. i promise i’ll be more careful tomorrow so you won’t have to clean more wounds.”

you roll your eyes, setting aside the used gauze pad on the table. of course he’s still going to run around for the rest of the week. you silently pray that he forgets about the volleyball game you promised him yesterday.

bam perks up from his spot on the floor when he senses your movement, and he jumps on the opportunity (literally) to squeeze himself on the couch. he ends up resting his head on jungkook’s shin as he attentively watches you use a second gauze pad to stop the bleeding.

“atleast only play on the grass so it’s a soft landing.”

your advice makes him laugh out loud. “okay. only on the grass from now on. i’ll be good.”

minutes later, your boyfriend has already invested himself in the silly little baking show you discovered yesterday. he’s most probably making mental notes as he watches the professional bakers work in the kitchen. he does search for recipes in the internet when he cooks, but he mostly just wings the measurements and experiments with adding more spices or ingredients.

“ah, measurements are really important in baking. so many things can go wrong if you don’t follow them.” he says his thoughts out loud, mouth slightly agape in realization.

“i learned that yesterday too.” you giggle. you remove the gauze pad to check if his knee is still bleeding, and you sigh in relief when you see that it has finally stopped.

you and bam make eye contact as you take out the antibiotic ointment from the box. you give him a half smile, and he wags his tail enthusiastically in response.

you carefully spread the ointment on jungkook’s wounded knee using two fingers, briefly looking at his face incase you’re hurting him.

yeah, no. his mind has flown very far away from his hurt knees. he’s far too mesmerized by the magic of the cake land right now.

there’s that spaced out look on his face again. so adorable that you feel so endeared and you want to pinch his cheeks. look, you know he’s almost six feet and super strong. but he has the perfect combination of sharp and soft facial features that just throws you off. there’s his defined jawline contrasted by the supple skin of his rosy cheeks; his perfect eyebrows contrasted by his sparkling bambi eyes. he is so pretty and flawless in your point of view. so much so, there are days you think he can never do anything wrong and then there’s also the days you find him intimidating.

on this day, however, as you tape a gauze pad over his scraped knee, there is only the devotion you have for no other soul in the world but his.

“all done. i’ll just change the gauze again later before we sleep.”

he observes the neatly done treatment of his wound, tilting his head. “hmm, thanks, baby.” he hums appreciatively. “it feels a lot better now.”

“be more careful next time, okay?” you glare at his black slides on the floor. “and stop running wearing those!”

“okay, okay. i promise. when did i ever not listen to you?” he grins, very much used to your ardent scolding. he sits up to gently pull your face close, planting a wet kiss on your lips.

his grin remains when he breaks away, his eyes falling to bam who is quietly giving the both of you a tranquil gaze.

“bam, good boy.” jungkook strokes the dog’s head tenderly, which makes his eyes close in satisfaction.

“you know, bam looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. he loves you.”

bam has occupied a special place in your heart since day one, and you can’t imagine a home without him in it anymore. god, you never knew how much you needed to hear those words until today. you feel the warmth of joy spread to your lips and even to your fingertips.

the next words to escape from jungkook’s lips come to steal the breath from your lungs.

“let’s get married someday.”

he looks down and plays with your fingers, pulling himself together after blurting out the thought that’s been spiraling in his head for months.

“me, and you, and bam. we’re a family now, right?” he gains the courage to meet your eyes, a hopeful look painted on his face.

you nod your head in agreement, swallowing thickly to prevent yourself from bursting into ugly tears.

your voice comes out soft and quiet. “yes, we are. so let’s get married someday.”

he bites his lower lip to contain his happy smile, spitting out another idea he’s been dying to ask you. “so do you think it’s a good idea to add a cat to the family?”

you both look at the big dog comfortably curled up against the corner of the couch, fast asleep after spending most of the day outdoors. “bam is nice, but i also think he is capable of either accidentally laying on the cat or purposely pushing it off the couch.”

his smile drops, replaced by a big pout. “so is that a no?”

you look at him blankly. “yeah, no.”

“huh? yes or no?”

—

taglist! @lolalee24 @alanniys @jjkeverlast @queenofdragonsandcats @i9hyuck @yvesismywife @enhypenslay @cramseys @witchfqllen @virgogentlejk @yoonqki @jeonwiixard @monilyv @bermudaisy @youreyestells-winter

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts reaction #jungkook angst #bts scenarios #jungkook x oc #jungkook smut

[jxmis]

Wish You Were Sober

Pairings: Rosé Park x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Roseanne Park have been best-friends for years now. Having finished wrapping up your show before blackpink's last performance at Coachella, you decide to show your support and fly out to LA and watch them. But maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Not after the events that had happened after the afterparty. Everything has changed. (sorry i suck at doing summaries)

Warning(s): angst

A/N: a lil inspiration by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray. Soooo I'm having major pcd after seeing BP last saturday soo decided to write for my bias wrecker. I literally just thought and wrote of this a few hours ago. Same with the picture T_T. I also have been writing jennie, lisa, and chaewon fics. Posting whichever I get done first after this one! Enjoy! :)

Rosanne Park isn't usually one to party hard. She isn’t the usual person to get wasted either. It's rare for that to happen.

But as they wrapped up their final night headlining Coachella, a party was thrown for their successful two shows. Being the first k-pop act and girl group to headline, making history! Of course, she had to live it up.

However, one shot became two, three, and even taking a couple sips of margarita. Those who are close to Rosé know that she doesn't have a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol. She's a lightweight.

You being a lot more responsible and smart, only took a few sips of your alcoholic beverage. You handle your liquor pretty well.

You see Rosé's manager trying to talk some sense into her but it seems as Rosé is being stubborn. You sigh, you approach them. Jane looks at you with a pleading look, you nod and gesture for her to go. She silently thanks you, softly patting Rosé's cheek before leaving.

"C'mon, Chae, you've had too much to drink." You carefully and softly put hand behind her back. Rosé shakes her head in protest.

"Y/N/NNN!!! Nooooo 'm havin sooo much funn!" She slurs. She leans against your shoulder, resting her head on it. She looks at you a smile bright on her face, bringing the glass close to you. "Have some! It's sooo good!" You take the beverage away from her hand causing her to pout.

"We're leaving, Chae. You've had your fun. Time for you to rest." Despite her protest, you drag her out of the party. She eventually quits whining and resisting. She sulks instead. "You'll thank me in the morning for this." You offer her support which she gladly takes as she's walking. She's so drunk to the point that she can't even walk straight.

You thankfully arrive back to Rosé's place safely. You did your very best to cover up Chae from the horde of paparazzies as you leave the party. Your bodyguard and Rosé's, as well as her manager using flashlights to ruin their photos.

--------

You look after Rosé. Even when the aftereffects of drinking so much alcohol led her to throw up. You help sooth her by holding her hair and caressing her back. Letting her know you're there and not going anywhere. As soon as you saw her hand on her stomach and a grimace on her face, you knew. You’re quite thankful you were able to get her to her room and rush her into the bathroom.

"It's okay, Chae. I've got you," you say softly. A minute goes by after Rosé seem to have let it all out. You clean up her face and begin her night time routine. You've slept over a good amount of times to have memorized it all. You help her brush her teeth and awkwardly had to help her change into pajamas. It wasn't easy doing that second part with your eyes close. But to your surprise, she was very compliant.

You are so focus on helping her, making sure she's okay that you didn't notice how quiet she's been. "Hey.. you okay?" You say as she settles on her bed. That's when it hit Rosé. Tears starts to pour down her eyes. You panic. You forgot how emotional she gets after everything when she gets drunk. It's been awhile since you've done this. You quickly sit next to her. "What wrong? Don't cry, Chae. It's okay! You're safe."

She sits up and clings onto you. You wrap your arms around her, rubbing her back. First, she repeatedly apologizes. "Thank you for always being there for me and taking care of me, Y/N/N." She says in a hush tone still clinging tightly onto you.

Even though she can't see you, you smile. "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. You were just having fun and you deserve to have fun. You know I'll always be here when you're in need." You pull away, bringing your hands on her cheeks, wiping her tears away. "Even if it's having to watch you throw up and clean you up after." You both laugh at that. You smile triumphally at your success on making her laugh.

You move a strand of hair out of her face. Wiping the tears that still remain on her cheeks. Meanwhile, Rosé's eyes remain on you. You notice. The mood suddenly changes in the room. The way Rosé is looking at you... it's different than usual. Maybe you've seen it once in a while whenever you two hung out before. But you always thought you were being delusional. A look that holds so much feelings, unspoken ones.

You see her mouth move but nothing comes out. She closes it and suddenly you see her eyes move to your lips. It catches you off guard. Trying to take it all in, you then feel her lips touching yours. It takes you a minute to process everything. Coming to your senses, you quickly pull away. Rosé opens her eyes. She can see the shock and confusion on your face.

"Chae... what are you.. what are you doing?"

She swallows the lump on her throat. What is she doing? It felt right though. "I- I don't- I don't know." Rosé manages to stutter out, trying to keep her tears at bay. "I just- I thought- Oh god, I'm so sorry." She covers her mouth, surprise with her actions as well.

You get up from her bed and run your hands through your hair. A million thoughts going through your head. Rosé watches you just standing there, stressed out. Now, she's really full on crying. What had she done? She ruined everything. You let out a deep sigh, "Its okay.. it's okay, you're drunk. Under the influence. It was the alcohol in you. Just- Just get some rest, Chae." You hesitantly approach her and kiss her head. "Good night."

"I like you!" Rosé calls out as you're heading towards the door. You freeze. "I like you so much, Y/N. For so long now. The alcohol coursing through my veins just gave me the courage to finally do something about it. So, please stay." She begs.

Silence fills the room after Rosé's confession. There's no way all this time, Roseanne Park, your best-friend has had a crush on you. You sure would've notice if she did... right? She'd never showed any signs that she had romantic feelings for you. You know her like the back of your hand! This is all because she's under the influence. That's all. She's just saying crazy things.

Without looking back, You bow your head down. "That's real sweet, but I wish you were sober," you whisper out. With that, you leave the sobbing blonde's room, silently hoping she heard you. Maybe even remember all of this in the morning. You doubt it.

"But I really do," Rosé says softly, the tone of her voice so sincere... fragile.

#rosé park x reader #park chaeyoung x reader #blackpink #blackpink rose #roseanne park #blackpink roseanne #rose park #park chaeyoung #blackpink fic #rose blackpink

[torihakaraublog]

Obey Me! Nightbringer "Dust Storm Panic" Pop Quiz Event

!SPOILERS FOR THE EVENT!

Writing this while sick T_T

This was a good event! Very fun and light hearted!

Won't have time to grind for the cards, but the Solomon × Asmo one is my fave! Solomon is so silly xD

Heck yah cross country running!! This was my jam in High-school! Think it's funny tho that Beel is never in the sports events despite being a sports lover himself👀

Omg the races I did weren't that intense, didn't even need a hat, just sports clothes and some good shoes. Would 100% do something like this irl tho!

And it's sweet we get to do a race with Barbatos first before planning the Devildom one.

I'll say it once again...WHERE IS MY BABY BOY BEEL?! Heck yah dragons tho.

Awww I wanna race!! (Kinda end up doing it in the end xD)

When the sand/dust storm happened I thought it was going to be a refrence to the story about the guy who got lost in a desert in Eygpt durring a race and somehow survived (please note this story has many trigger warnings if you look it up) and we were gonna have to find someone that got lost, but they took it more of a "Dune" direction with the worms.

Such cool sounding creatures! Yes let's return the baby to its mama!!

100% chick is the priority in my eyes! The tunnel took us to the mama/end of race. And we got to cross the finish line with Barbatos! What a great day!

Get wisked up by the wind and fly around! Barbatos really putting on the rizz for this event 🤭 can't wait for spring weather in the human world and all the wonderful smells that come with it! Had a snow storm here yesterday 😫

The second plot line was really fun too! More racing! But we all are tied together to make a centipede xD

This was so funny lmao then they started chanting my name 🤣

This was so sweet TwT "Won't you forgive these feelings of mine just for today?" Was a great ending line! 💚

#obey me pop quiz #obey me spoilers #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me

[jennaissantes]

Congrats on those 400!! I love your works 💗 For the event, I'd like to request #28 from prompt [I] with Jay Enhypen. Thank you!!

One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

a/n: hihihihihi!!!! tysm for sending in a request and im so sorry it took this long T_T school has been very hard and im trying to manage everything so forgive me if this isnt up to your liking!! [ i kinda liked this one huhuhuhu ]

your boyfriends room was quiet. unless you counted the sounds of your sighs and the creaks of the old fan [who even uses fans when theres a/c’s now L]

your pretty boyfriend, jay, had been gaming with his buddies for the past almost two hours. not that you were completely against it or anything. it just wouldnt have killed him to look back and maybe check up on you once a while right?

you huff once again, hoping that at least this time he would notice. he doesnt. he only keeps smiling that stupidly gorgeous smile, in lieu of winning the match [yet again!].

maybe it was his boyfriend intuition or maybe you were sighing too loud, he finally tore his eyes away from the screen to look at you. the sudden turn of his attention to you surprised you and made you flush deep red, not really expecting him to acknowledge your neediness.

he breaks into another smile, seeing you flustered and gets up, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles. “hey baby. missed me?” he walks towards the bed, on which you were sitting and sits next to you. you try to stay as calm as you can, trying to hide your face from his view. “psssh nah you thought. i was doing just fine without your company. but hey it wouldnt have killed you to look back and maybe send a few flying kisses or something or maybe yknow.. just call out my name to see if i had fallen aslee-“ your rambling would’ve gone on forever if jay had not placed a small kiss on your palm, holding it in his gently.

he looks at you with the softest tone, knowing how much he had neglected his beautiful s/o. “im sorry my love. now you have all my attention tho.”

you turn to him “do i now?” you say, raising your eyebrows at his sudden affection. he chuckles and pulls you onto his lap, his hands going around your waist as yours are placed on his chest. [oh boy his muscles]

you notice how he visibly gulps at the proximity and you cant help but take a fleeting glance at his lips, noticing him do the same. one of his hands come up to your face, caressing your cheeks. his eyes trace over every part of your face, admiring your beauty, until it finally rests on your lips. his fingertip brushes over your lips and you gasp. the two of you hadn’t had a moment like this in quite a while, so both of you wanted to cherish it as much as you could.

jay could no longer resist wanting to kiss you sore, and he tilts your chin up and connects his lips to yours and almost smiles at how immediately you melt under his touch, your hand going to hold his. something about holding his hand while kissing him so passionately just made the whole moment much more endearing.

he pulled away for a moment, to whisper against your lips how much he loved you, before placing his lips on yours once again, in a series of soft pecks.

the two of you pull away finally, giddy with butterflies. he flashes a grin at you before placing you back down on the bed and getting up, grinning almost evilly.

“sorry babes. my homies need me back now. i love you.”

send in kisses 💗

#— kisses from iwonzzi :3 #jay fluff #enhypen #park jongseong scenarios #park jay x reader #enha #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #enha fluff #enha hcs #enha smau #enhypen smau #jay park #park jay enhypen #jay enha #jay enhypen #jay angst #park jay x you #enhypen x gender neutral reader #park jongseong #park jay angst #jay enhypen fluff #jay enhypen scenarios #jay scenarios

[moonspirit]

🦅💞🎯🧐😬🎢🤡✨

Yours truly,

:3

Hello you xD

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants? Ah, a bit of both. I do maintain outlines because I am very much a person who will lose her mind if she doesn't organize lmao. But I also sometimes get ideas as I'm writing which make their way into the final work. A great deal of moments and scenes in my fics were complete surprises though they remain overall within the general outline.

💞 Who's your comfort character? Armin. Obviously. I dream of him day and night. I inject him into my veins.

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which? Oh yeah xD Anna actually guessed a parallel in VBEOW correctly, which is Armin's 'son' on Fort Salta and Annie's 'daughter' in Kald. I honestly didn't plan on bringing back those little boys from the Fort back into their story in Kald, but I'm very happy to announce that Armin's 'son' specifically, will be a major character, along with Annie's 'daughter'! Character development! (i hope)

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories? Not a whole lot. Since I focus mainly on canon events, sometimes I go read up and brush up my knowledge on Fandom. Sometimes I'm overconfident and rely on my memory and then fuck things up (like that stupid snow gaffe in TFLM T_T)

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon? My friends, idc, they know I write but they don't read it. My family tho? Oh no. Please don't read a single one of my fics, even if it contains nothing but fluff #_# I will die on the spot. My coworkers will never know of my writing. Ever.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? Uhhhhhh... I haven't really written a lot, but probably my current fic. Village by the End of the World, not because it is very wild (YET!!!), but because I swing from emotional to fluff to smut pretty often in it and... well it makes me go on a rollercoaster of emotions xD

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? Oh xD Chap 2 of VBEOW, we've got a JeanPiku moment which goes like:

“Is this what you came here to do, Jean?” She mocks, turning to face them and walking backwards.  Jean's mouth falls open in disbelief. “What I came here to do? What did I come here to do, huh?”

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Oh T_T Uh... well... dear Moon, I'm proud that you managed to write more fics during your exam period than ever in your life and... T^T I'm proud that you're an AruAni shipper.

Thank you for the ask T/////T

#anon ask #tho i know who you are! #ask game

[arlecchno]

lmao the blonde parts are supposed to be teal but i havent had a chance to redye them in foreverr … also yes ! my xiao jacket ! its not the only one out there though LOL

the wall youre seeing is actually my best friend roofs long lost sibling , wall /j

BEFORE 6 !? i could never i always go to bed at like 12am …. im so sleep deprived on school days lol

ME AND THAT FRIEND DID SO MANY SILLY THINGS IN OUR MATH/STEM CLASS LMAO we used to play genshin wish sim (im very young T_T) and say weird things to summon characters (i told the computer id help make kaeya dilucs brother again to get diluc , and BOTH OF THEM CAME HOME IN THE SAME PULL) tbh ive always complained ab stairs so ,,, i cant even take the stairs in my building anymore bc i live on the 9th floor itd take way too long 😭

we have a lot of the same top 5s , kaeya , diluc , and scara share #1 because … yes . my favorite gal is fischl i love her sm -

i have 11 5*s (not including aloy) , and im currently pulling for sir acting grand scribe himself ! im at around late 30 pity , if he does / doesnt come home i will make self ship art because i dont think he would like that >:)

GOOD TO KNOW ITS GOING WELL im actually making notes for a fic i wanna write on call w my previously mentioned friend roof LOL ive had the idea ever since the nilotpala cup event , i really wanted to make like an actual fic based off of it bc that girl from the yae publishing house was supposed to or wtv HAHAH but im procrastinating on a title so im just . UGH - yk ?

i did have a good day both the day you replied and today ! i am injured but its not bad (only hurts when i move certain ways) , i went on a field trip for school today and got to go in a ✨stream✨ and pick up a little crawfish >:D i hope youre doing good as well !! its so nice talking to you lmao youre so cool

i might start sending doodles every ask , so heres a sketch of my genshin oc !!

my “question” issss guess what region theyre from ! or who they live with LOL the hint is that there are already playables from their region , and there are technically two regions theyre from ?? you can guess just one though ill give you the answer next ask :P

- jellyfish

i think it's because i'm already used to waking up early... even tho i'm a very sleep deprived student that sleeps at 12-1 and wakes up at 5 😔 i'm fairly a light sleeper so no matter what time i sleep, whenever my alarm goes off i'm always up by the second 🥲

and LMAOO i've played a ton of those wish sims to prevent myself from rolling whenever i'm saving up for a character, it works wonders

i didn't really expect you to like fischl!!! i like using her in events where we have her as a trial character lol using oz in her burst and flying around is so silly but i always have fun with it!

seems like we're both on the run for alhaitham :D currently have 72 pity and he still has yet to arrive... i do not have a guarantee whatsoever so the next time i pull i'm gonna be praying for him to come home 😔 i've already explored most of the new area for him

and that fic idea sounds interesting! i briefly forgot about that event so when you mentioned it i'm suddenly reminded of how fun playing with the fungi was!! hope you'll find many inspiration for your supposed title, and who knows, next thing you know you're hitting the post button for your fic 🤭

hope you're healing well from your injury also!! have lots of rest and don't overexert yourself too much, resting is very important hehe

it's nice to know that you went on a field trip :O i haven't been to one in a while so hearing it from you reminded me how fun it always is to go on one and escape school (tbf i think we can agree at least half of the students that volunteer on field trips only do it to skip classes LMAO #guilty)

i think if i had to guess, it's a mix between mondstadt and sumeru, maybe? i'm either really wrong or really right since my basic skills of knowledge on each regions' outfits are very minimal 😵‍💫

a question for you; how was your week? tell me all about it!! hehe i honestly like hearing people talk about their day and week because it's undeniably so interesting to know what others have been up to and how different some people's lives can be from ours! hope i'm not rambling too much... i just really like listening to people talk and talk about their life

#h answers #jellyfish <3

[octavineles]

↻ adore u ( trey clover )

summary — it’s no secret that you adore trey clover, but if you were to pinpoint what about him you loved so much, we would be stuck here forever (gn!reader)

warnings — pure fluff (w a tiny tiny smidge of angst), tbh this is just me projecting all my gay little feelings onto trey, a little suggestive idk u guys make out but nothing nsfw!!!!

a/n — HI GUYS. IM ALIVE. sorry for dipping so suddenly life has been really rocky for me (i had midterms, turned 16 recently as well, im currently having a difficult battle w depression but ill be fine for now!!!! and i also got into many new things etc) BUT IM BACK!!! im rly sorry for my absence T_T i also hit 100 recently so maybe i’ll plan an event soon?!?!?! idk i just feel so bad cuz i just disappeared without doing anything… ahhhh… ill make it up to u guys i swear!!!!!!! so here i present u a trey fic. because ive been thinking about him lately. also i noticed that a huge chunk of my followers r otome fans so do any of u play collar x malice cuz shiraishi has my heart and soul i love the nasty cat man. oops sorry i got off topic ik this is a twst blog NOW ONTO THE STORY

If anyone were to ask you what you loved so much about Trey Clover, you don’t think you’d be able to give them a solid answer. It’s a classic reaction, really; obviously one would feel that way towards their significant other, but your mind goes blank at the thought of him, unable to pinpoint what you adore so much about the man.

You could try, though.

There were many things that you liked about him. Trey was caring, almost like a big brother figure towards his friends (a certain redhead comes to mind at the thought of this, and it makes you smile) and he always made sure to help them out whenever they’re in a pinch. He could be a bit of a worry wart, though you never minded. If anything, it made your adoration for him grow.

His antics sometimes remind you of an overprotective mother hen, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You can still remember the way he escorted you to the infirmary after falling off your broom in the middle of flying lessons, warm fingers wiping your tears of embarrassment as he patches your ankle up. Trey stays by your side for the remainder of the period, even going as far as carrying you on his back when the bell rung, indicating next period.

(The both of you soon run into Cater, who fake retches at the sight of two lovebirds in the school hall, before snapping a selfie with the both of you in typical Cater fashion. Trey shakes his head in faux exasperation.)

You also liked the way he doted on you, as if it was apart of his nature to do so. Showering you in affection was something that came so natural to him, you can’t help but feel envious of his past lovers who got to experience all of his loving. It’s an irrational thought, but Trey never dismisses you, instead opting to give you all of his love and attention until it’s drilled into your head that you’re the only one for him.

It didn’t take long for you to notice that physical touch was apart of his love language, for the fleeting kisses and strokes to your cheek every morning was something you came to enjoy, and crave even. Another thing that you adored about Trey, you suppose. He didn’t really look like a touchy guy, so you found it cute, opting to tease him about it until his face turns as red as Riddle’s whenever in a fit full of anger. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, he jokes, and then continues with, but if I were to die at the hands of you, I wouldn’t mind it at all.

But oh, Trey could definitely return the teasing tenfold. He just opts to let you have your way, but sometimes, a bit of revenge is needed. There’s nothing he enjoys more than swiping a bit of icing on your bottom lip during your little baking dates together, before leaning in to lick it off with his tongue. The sight of your face with embarrassment written all over it is nothing but a sweet treat to him, before you turn away from his eyes and huff.

He likes this, he likes seeing you so flustered and unable to look him in the eye whenever he does anything like that. The sound of his laughter ringing through the kitchen are like bells chiming in your ears, but you don’t have the energy to look him in the eye, afraid that your heart will leap out of your chest if he tries another trick like that again. Trey coaxes you into looking at him, apologies laced with honeyed words before he props you onto the kitchen counter to kiss you like a man starved.

You’re stunned at first, but soon give in when he nips your bottom lip and cups the back of your head oh so affectionately. The two of you kiss for what it seems like hours on end, the strawberry shortcake in the oven seemingly forgotten. You both don’t stop until the timer goes off, it’s obnoxious beeping ruining the mood as Trey pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the both of you.

(You’d be lying if you said his disheveled appearance, lips wet and red from kissing for so long didn’t do anything to you, though.)

Trey also had a tendency to forgive easily, and you figured that maybe it was due to his empathetic and caring nature. He easily forgave Riddle after his whole overblot fiasco, sympathizing with his childhood friend and even went as far as to apologize himself. At most times, you would’ve adored this trait, but sometimes you just caught yourself wishing he was a bit harsher on you whenever you slipped up.

Arguments are inevitable, and they’re even a sign of a healthy relationship. You two had your differences, but sometimes you catch yourself speaking out of line. You wished Trey would be a bit selfish as you sob into his arms for forgiveness, not feeling worthy of his benevolence. And as you express that, his eyebrows furrow and he moves to press a tissue against your nose, prompting you to blow.

You can only cry harder when he explains that he knows you’d never hurt his feelings on purpose, the situation nothing but a mere misunderstanding. In turn, being a little selfish would hurt you in the process, which would only hurt him even more. He calms your cries down and kisses your forehead, granting you forgiveness.

And the list could go on. Trey had his own flaws as a person, but so did you. The both of you were like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly with each other, his quirks and antics never failing to charm you. So whenever anyone asks the golden question, all you could say is that you loved the way he loved, loved the way the both of you were inseparable, loved him for who he is and loved him for loving you.

If you could, you’d stay by his side forever.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover x you #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland fluff #twst imagines #twst fluff #twst oneshots

[sukiglycerin]

dolce (sweetly, softly, gently)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"only because you can't understand it." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’ll… try,” you said begrudgingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re wrong,” bakugou coldly answered.

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

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

“to win, like any other normal person!”

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

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

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

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

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

you stared back at her. “know what?”

“he plays violin, too.”

“huh?” you must’ve misheard her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“tch. you never asked, did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your solution?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"where are you going to find a violinist?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded.

"one, two, three, f-"

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

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

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

"maybe for you," he smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you win competitions to play more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

notes!!

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

first, explaining the playlist:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fair-fae]

Thou Must Live, Die, and Know - Endwalker spoilers ahead!

This cutscene really got to me PHEW. Easily one of my favorite moments in the entire game now. Answers playing in the background, Venat referencing the lyrics, her struggle juxtaposed against our confrontation with Emet-Selch (another of my favorite cutscenes). How absolutely wild that a song from like 10 years ago that we assumed was just an ode to the Calamity and 1.0′s unfortunate fate now has an entirely different meaning--all along it was the answer to Hermes’ question. It made me think of how Natsuko Ishikawa mentioned that new meaning would given to each of the expansions’ themes. Shadowbringers in particular stuck out to me: “One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives On their shadows, away we fly” Obviously, the first two lines are about Emet-Selch and the WoL. But the rest never made much sense to me... until now. Are the “four-fold knowing” Venat, the WoL, Emet-Selch, and Hythlodaeus? The “one dark future” was never about the Final Days of the ancients (far in the past and not a “future”), or the rejoining of the First to the Source and the events it would bring. It was about the actual Final Days. I’m having a lot of feelings right now. T_T

#ffxiv spoilers #endwalker spoilers #ew spoilers #6.0 spoilers #spoiler #spoilers

[moldy-mold]

June Blog Gotta spice up my life.

Tried out new boba places that have started to open up in Atlanta and I feel like life is worth living again!

-

Plant Saga I swear this is probably the most eventful part of my life.

Hubert the monstera has many new leaves, one successfully became a split leaf but he’s got a ways to go. He’s too small now to create completely split leaves. I think maybe next year...

- I got Lorenz a rose gold planter and it made him more bougie. NICE. I don’t know if anyone cares about mini rose plant care but he did get infected by spider mites because of course he freakin did. I mixed dish soap and water and sprayed him once a week and they disappeared. Every day I have to monitor him for signs of stress and any other possible problems. I think he’s the most high-maintenance plant I currently have and it is very fitting lool.

- Rokurou the Venus Fly Trap keeps eating things. Very typical. I saw him catch a moth that nearly escaped with half of its body still caught in the trap. It was gruesome but I was really psyched to see him catch something other than ants. He is so happy now he even created a flower bud which I had to unfortunately destroy before it bloomed. It really weakens the plant to let it produce flowers. :( Apparently they’re pretty boring and smell bad anyway loool. I need to get him a planter too... - Say hello to Riki the parlor palm! I was trying to think of which character was pointy and tropical. This is a pretty easy plant to care for, I just water him once a week.

My next goal is to get my hands on a pothos! Time to think about names...

-

Projects Last month I began planning out a complete comic series about Rokurou and Eizen. Listen... I am very enthusiastic about their bromance. I work on it every day for a little bit before bed. You can say I was inspired to do this because of the amount of Webtoons I’ve been reading. If they let us post fanart maybe I would have given it a shot haha. Sadly, my only usable social media platforms are not comic-friendly but it’s alright. Based on my progress I’m happy to say that I will be finishing a comic series for once (I’m 95% done). And I never finish anything! I want to launch this project in two weeks but I’ve told myself that I must finish all of my comic pages before I post a single thing. Soon. - I don’t think I’ve shared visuals of what I do at the stationery company I work at. We occasionally get orders for chalkboard bar menus for wedding receptions. I’ll show you the one I illustrated for the client of their pets! I actually met the bride and groom that day (it was also my birthday) and they thanked me like 1000 times and even gave me a huge tip. T_T

Otherwise, my duties include laser cutting and wedding assembly! I would love if this were a full-time job like the old days... - The bakery... I am bros with the cafe owner’s husband. He helps out on weekends and we have synergy. He is very... DAD. For some reason he likes to give me a new life lesson every week I see him. He’s not my dad but I’m still going to tell him Happy Father’s Day. Here’s a text:

-

The Berseria Journey (I will be vague in my commentary) Made a new friend thanks to Berseria! Crying over fics really do bring people together 🥺.

After playing for 6 and a half months, we finally beat the main story... To be fair, we went around the world doing all side quests and optional content. My favorite mini-game was Character Cards!

My roomie and I play together so during the finale she took on the “short one” as Velvet - while I, playing as Rokurou, had an EPIC one-on-one sword fight with the “tall one”. Dodging attacks and countering with Vengeful Stance, the delicious stun attacks. MMM! It was so good. Finished it off with beautiful lvl 3 mystic. *chef kiss*

Uhhhhhh I need time to process that ending because so much was happening in the last 10 minutes of the game. I am still kind of confused but you know what, that’s okay. Maybe my brain will catch up when I do post-game activities.

I wish I had more interesting pictures but we’re having such a hard time getting PS4 recordings to work. Please accept my Snapchats.

Last but not least, to end the blog:

He said wanted the towel. To wear nothing but the towel. It is very much canon, so who am I to deny him?

#diary

[youtiaoshutiao]

传闻中的陈芊芊 thoughts

i haven’t been very active lately but i just came on to say, i binged on the romance of tiger and rose / 传闻中的陈芊芊 and have 2 eps left and i love it SO SO MUCH. i was expecting some pure crack but beyond that, i really ended up catching much feels for it?

and i think beyond the outlandish hilarity of some of the scenes and the cheeky meta, it’s actually a pretty decent drama with its plot and character motivations largely dictated by logic. i have to commend the scriptwriter nan zhen 南镇 for the entire set up of the drama (and it’s her original script!!! which is so rare in the industry nowadays run over by book adaptations - i mean i love those too but i still think it’s an easy way out for production companies when they adapt books with established fan bases). it’s actually really clever of her because all plot holes/flaws in world building can easily be attributed to xiaoqian’s lousy scriptwriting abilities?

i really did become quite impressed with the plot as the episodes progressed haha. the conflict and plot thickens as xiaoqian, now as qianqian, with the mindset that she’s not part of this story at all and that she’s interacting with a bunch of characters on paper, continues to engineer plot machinations trying to steer the plot in the right direction to get to the end so she can return back to the real world. and you slowly see how that just devolves into complete chaos and plot twists when surprise! she IS part of the story, she IS interacting with these characters and they are influenced by what she says and does! so you have her original male lead hanshuo, destined for the female lead chuchu, falling in love instead with her and changing his entire plan because of that. you have chuchu, the original female lead, slowly growing more unhinged as she perceives qianqian’s actions and words as callous and uncaring and outrightly antagonistic towards herself and as her resentment builds when everyone seems to shower affection and attention on qianqian still.

adding on to that is, how xiaoqian as a scriptwriter views and perceives her characters? some characters like hanshuo, she clearly constructed with much care and love, as seen by how she knows exactly how to make hanshuo happy and doesn’t want to upset him in the initial episodes (which caused him to fall for her like a devoted puppy). yet it seems like she either didn’t grasp fully their character motivations/personality/how their character is moulded by their backgrounds? which is why she probably didn’t see how the inherent difference with which her mother treats qianqian vs chuchu would lead to jealousy and resentment seeping in and poisoning chuchu’s heart. and her visualising han shuo as a murderous calculating career-driven male lead aka the male lead of eastern palace clearly runs contrary to how he is total putty and has barely hurt a fly ever since he fell in love with qianqian.

and there are characters too like her mother that she originally clearly just wrote in as characters to steer the plot forward, and in-world, she is clearly stricken when she realises how they have emotions and hidden depths beyond what she fathomed - like when her and her mother had that semi HTHT after she stole the dragon bone and her mum stayed by her bedchamber to watch over her all night. and another example would be su ziying - she’s so happy to see him when he appears as in that moment she’s viewing him from the lens of the scriptwriter of this story and she knows he’s going to push the plot forward. but seeing him and his actions actually playing out - she gets irritated by what he does and also his actions actually do end up affecting her, because she is in the story too!!!

and moving on from that, as the plot further progresses, another spanner is thrown into the mix when she realises that male lead is really really in love with her! and would give up everything for her! and... she too is in love with him!! and this changes things too because while initially all her actions were to push the plot to move forward the way she originally wrote it so that she can head back, now she’s actively trying to push back against the flow of events, as she’s now emotionally invested in this and doesn’t want the male lead to die as per her original script.

the play out of all these was really really entertaining and gripping to watch?? i was legitimately bowled over by how affected i was when all the angst came in, because it really felt like it made sense amidst all the crack and was well set up? and throughout it all, the actions of all the main players in the plot made sense and were logical, even the secondary leads chuchu and peiheng. haha idek if i’m ascribing too much credit to this whole plot, maybe it’s really just meant to be a cracky fun time and i’m too into it HAHA.

there’s also the set up of huayuan city being a matriarchal society where basically the roles of women and men are reversed. it is really v trippy!!! and An Experience to see scenes like men being harrassed by women, people tittering at other men for not being covered up enough in public, wares that can increase your chances of birthing a female heir being peddled on the streets. initially i was kind of apprehensive as to how it was going to play out. now at ep 22 where they’ve gone to xuanhu city which is patriarchal the conversation regarding gender roles and gender equality is continuing!! but i shall reserve my thoughts and comments till the entire arc plays out.

but beyond all that, the drama is just so much fun fun funnnnn!!!! i loveddddd seeing how this drama about a scriptwriter getting stuck in her own script had scenes interspersed with storytellers on the street retelling qianqian’s exploits and qianqian’s regular meetups with the storytellers/opera writers to discuss how the plot of the drama was going or even the scene where hanshuo and peiheng went to the opera house for their male lead showdown and the opera characters were there saying all the rude things they wanted to say to each other. such fun meta?? breaking the fourth wall?? satire?? idek LOL i just know i enjoyed it thoroughly

and lastly, apart from all the thinky thinky stuff, i’m thoroughly charmed by the otp HAHA. i loveeeee qianqian so much and zhao lusi is soo effortlessly adorable and natural and charming in this role that i can totally see why everyone from han shuo to her mother is enamoured by her. i actually am really curious also to see how qianqian before xiaoqian transmigrated into her body was like - seeing how her servant didn’t seem to have any whiplash from an extreme change in personality suggest that maybe qianqian wasn’t all that different from xiaoqian?? and probably might not have been that spoilt/callous/havoc-wreaking as everyone perceives her to be?

and han shuo too is SO entertaining and funny and darling - when he first came to huayuan city he’s all “i’m cunning and smart and i’m going to MANIPULATE EVERYBODY for my/xuan hu city’s benefit” and “i want chen qianqian to die with ten thousand arrows through her heart!! i want her to be stabbed by knives three thousand times!! not a single time less!!!” and “do you think i don’t dare to kill you?!”. then he falls in love with her and instantly he’s all puppy eyes and utter devotion. IT’S DELICIOUS. ding yuxi really makes staring at your FL like she’s the only one in the world an art form. and as one comment on a bilibili mv said regarding han shuo’s supposed bloodlust, “han shuo, up to this point you’ve only killed one horse” HAHA

(keep in mind that it’s not even that han shuo ordered the killing of this horse, it was his subordinate that killed it on his behalf, and han shuo was Not Happy about it after that!)

together the otp are even more adorable!!! it’s teeth rotting fluff but yet it comes off very earnest and adorable without being cloying. i was literally clutching my heart and grinning at the screen dopily at some scenes. and even though the otp dynamic and character setups are not really the same, the way the two of them bicker and act like children around each other kind of remind me of yongqi and xiaoyanzi from hzgg for some reason lol.

and apart from the otp, there are a whole host of supporting characters that are really very funny and adorable and entertaining to watch haha. special shoutout to both han shuo and qianqian’s subordinates who are HILARIOUS and plain Done with their masters’ nonsense (especially bai ji who really just wants to get shit done okay!! but his master just keeps on wanting to fall in love and date!!) there’s also qianqian’s older sister yuanyuan who is disabled and on a wheelchair, and with a sad yet somehow hilarious penchant for writing multiple drafts of her will. and her otp, su mu, a courtesan (yes the courtesans in this city are all male).

honestly i’m not sure where i’m going with this, i just briefly scanned through what i’ve written so far and lol seems like paragraphs of illogical incoherent rambling. I’m sorry it’s 5am over here i’m not really thinking straight T_T i just have a lot of feels for this drama okay ;_____;

#the romance of tiger and rose #传闻中的陈芊芊 #cdramanet #zhao lusi #ding yuxi #赵露思 #丁禹兮 #mine #drama watching #count the number of times i said the word funny... where has all my vocabulary gone lol

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 30 - Epilogue

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Notes: This is the last chapter... it’s over uwagh T_T

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ - here is the latest update

Epilogue

…

…

[“There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream – a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought – a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"

- The Mysterious Stranger, Mark Twain]

...

...

The doorbell rings and Jace opens the door to see his best friend standing on his doorstep.

“Chuck!” he exclaims happily. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come visit."

They share a hug and he invites her in for tea. He’s in the middle of packing so there are plenty of suitcases and clothes lying about though his pokemon seem more interested in playing around with the mess than assisting.

And the weather’s good so he opens the door to his veranda and props two chairs outside where they can enjoy their tea and some fresh air. It grants them an exquisite view of the river and the promenade and together, they sit and chat about old times and Jace’s new job.

“Jace,” she says, before she departs. “Thank you for everything. You were always there to listen and support me. Thank you for being my best friend.”

He pats her on the head, ruffling her hair. “Awwww…thanks, chuck; you’re my best friend too. You’re the bestest friend one could ask for,” he replies and they hug again, but her body feels abnormally cold.

...

Professor Magnolia and Sonia return home.

They’re tired and exhausted, having spent the remainder of the night at the police station where they informed the officers about the attack and filed a missing person’s report. To their utmost surprise, said missing person has mysteriously turned up home the following morning.

She’s sitting in the conservatory with a cup of tea in hand and little Polteageist is floating beside her though he looks downtrodden and holds his teapot lid in his hands, his head bowed low, and the professor and Sonia stand in shock, staring as she lowers her cup and smiles at them.

“Where on earth have you been?!” they cry.

They’re ecstatic to see her though Magnolia tells her off at the same time and the women share an embrace, sit down and have some breakfast.

“I went to find something,” she replies. “Everything’s under control. Did you tell Leon what happened?”

Sonia nods, anxious. “I had to, I was so worried. I called him last night and told him everything. He spent the whole night looking for you.”

In response, she finishes the rest of her tea and immediately rises from her seat. “Thanks, Sonia. I’ll go see him now. Professor, please excuse me.” Without a second to spare, she heads for the front door.

“You just got home!” Sonia exclaims, confused by her behaviour.

She pauses, turns round to the seated women and smiles.

“Professor Magnolia, Sonia. Thank you for everything,” she says, “I won’t forget your hospitality.”

…

In Postwick, Leon paces the kitchen with his phone. Charizard lingers in the doorway, holding his claws together whilst mum and Hop throw each other concerned glances.

He’s been looking for her all night after he received the frantic, distressing call from Sonia, who had informed him that something had attacked and chased her out of the house in the middle of the night, and it had also killed two of their pokemon.

They had cleaned the blood off the walls, stairs and floor and were hoping that she would come back in an hour or so, but she hadn’t.

He wished Sonia had told him earlier because he thought there was something wrong when he had tried to call earlier only to go through to voicemail.

Leon had searched all the places where he thought she might be but he had no success. If it wasn’t for Charizard, he probably wouldn’t have made it back home before dawn.

His phone rings, the screen indicating a call from Oleana.

“Hello?” he says, pressing the phone to his ear.

“We’re outside.”

“Alright. Thank you, Ms Oleana…”

Leon quietly hangs up and looks at his family.

“Leo…” Mum says worriedly, “…I think it’s best to leave the search to the police now. You’ve done all you can...I’m sure she’ll turn up. Hop and I can go look for her and we’ll keep an eye out on the news…. Please, you should get ready…Chairman Rose and Ms Oleana are waiting for you.”

He has a strict timetable today, back-to-back with events and battles which allowed no flexibility.

Leon has no other choice but to nod and he leaves the kitchen, heading to his room with Charizard bumbling after him with dark circles under his eyes. His pokemon is tired; they had spent the night flying around, searching but to no avail. He lifts a hand and pats Charizard on the neck.

“Thanks for your help,” he murmurs appreciatively and Charizard lets out an exhausted snort in response.

They barely got any sleep.

After Leon gets changed out of his casual wear and into his Champion gear, Charizard meets him outside where a black car is waiting.

The door automatically opens and inside, Oleana sits rigidly in the passenger seat with her long legs crossed over the other. She taps at her phone delicately, eyes glued to the screen. A tailored suit in a plastic cover is strewn carefully over her lap with a dry cleaner’s label on the hanger.

Leon slips inside and the door automatically closes behind him; the driver begins to reverse out of their driveway and mum and Hop stand at the front door, waving him off.

“We have a busy schedule ahead of us,” Oleana murmurs, without looking away from the flashing screen of her phone, “Chairman Rose has already arrived at the hotel for the fanmeet.”

“Right, the fanmeet,” Leon echoes, staring outside the window as the scenery of sleepy Postwick slowly disappears behind them; the driver steers the car towards the direction of the motorway.

Once they’ve arrived at the hotel, the chauffeur steers the car to one of the backdoors; despite the attempt to be discreet, some eager and diehard fans are waiting for Leon and once he gets out of the car, he hears wild cheering and a large crowd of women and men of all ages stand behind barriers, holding signs and waving them in the air; the majority of his fans are ordinary folk, though some of them are donned in copies of his snapback and wearing other merchandise he himself isn’t actually particularly familiar with.

Everyone’s chanting his name feverishly and he doesn’t want to disappoint despite his own personal circumstances; Leon raises his arm and waves to his adoring crowd with a wide grin on his face before he does his infamous pose. The group goes wild in response and once the theatrics are over, the security team are quick to escort him inside.

They lead him to his dressing room where the makeup artist and hair stylist are waiting for him.

He is made to sit down in front of the lit-up vanity mirror where he sees just how tired he actually is, but they hide it with makeup and he lets them work on him but the anxiety and unease bubbles within.

Where is she? Where could she be? Is she back yet?

Once they’ve finished prepping his face and combing his hair, he is finally allowed to sit up and leave his chair and the first thing he does is ask the artists for a moment alone.

They’re friendly and accommodating enough, so they oblige and exit, leaving him alone in the dressing room to be with his thoughts.

The show must go on but he is so sick with worry about her whereabouts that he runs to the door – was this really happening? Was he really going to tell Rose he cannot go through with it today? Was he really going to drop everything and leave?

However, none of those are necessary because he opens the door and there you are, standing with a smile on your face.

“Hi Leon.”

He’s utterly shocked to the core, eyes wide, and he looks at you head to toe before he glances around the corridor; how on earth did you get in? This is a VIP section and certainly for backstage crew, for staff members only. How did you manage to slink past?

None of those matter; Leon pulls you inside the room, closes the door before anyone can see and immediately throws his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Where’ve you been?” he manages to choke out, with his eyes squeezed shut and nose buried into your hair. He holds you so tightly, arms crushing your body to his as though fearing you would disappear if he let go. “Sonia told me what happened, and I went out to look for you.”

You let out a gentle sigh, wrapping your arms around him in return and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“I know, she told me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make everyone worry,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you relish the feel of being in his arms again and his warm chest pressed deeply against yours.

“I’m just glad you’re here and that you’re safe,” he replies, his voice muffled as he nuzzles your nape.

As he sighs, tightening his arms around your waist, you pull away slightly to place a hand over his cheek, making him look at you. Your eyes meet and as his eyes searches yours, you smile gently, brushing some hair from his face, running your fingertips over his stubble.

Leon leans in, your foreheads pressing together, noses rubbing affectionately and your lips curls into a fond smile.

“Leon?”

“Yes?”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

There’s a brief silence and Leon slowly releases you. Holding you at arm’s length, he gazes at you intently, his honeyed eyes sweeping over your form before he presses his palm gently over the curve of your cheek.

“What happened?” he says quietly.

Your gaze softening, you lean into his hand and shake your head before you gently take his hand into your own then reach for his other. You hold his large hands tightly with your own and you both avert your glances to your entwined hands.

You smile once more before you look up, your gazes meeting.  

“I love you,” you murmur.

Lifting his hands to your lips, you press a kiss over his knuckles and close your eyes. “I love you so much, Leon.”

“I love you too," he stutters out, taken aback by your gesture. His cheeks flush brilliantly and you can hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs.

He watches as you slowly reopens your eyes and let go albeit you do not mask your reluctance to do so, letting go of him with a shaky breath from the back of your throat. There’s a profound despair settling in your eyes as you look up at him.

“I need to go now,” you say quietly. “Goodbye.”

Something’s wrong, and Leon is overcome with the most dreadful sensation. A desire to hold you back, to stop you, overwhelms him and when you turn, he attempts to reach for you once more but you’re already leaving and Leon follows you outside his dressing room.

“Wait!” he yells, calling after you, “Come back! Where are you going?”

He’s quickly interjected by his makeup artist who has returned with some coffee in hands. “Leon? What are you doing outside? Please go back in, the fans cannot see you like this and the event’s about to start.”

The makeup artist cheerfully steers a conflicted Leon towards the direction of the room with a hand on his elbow, but he’s reluctant to go inside.

“Let’s get you all made up,” she says cheerfully but much to her vexation, Leon shakes his head, pulling himself away.

“I’m sorry!” he yells; although he’s wracked with confusion and guilt, Leon just knows the right thing to do at this moment is to follow you.

“Leon, come back!” she shouts as Leon races towards the direction you had disappeared off to. “Leon!”

...

Sonia tells Leon you haven’t come back so he crosses the house off his list. With Charizard, he goes through some of the places that might be meaningful to you; it could be the cemetery, or the hill where you had watched the sunrise together, it could be the mansion where you completed your first mission together, or it could be the area near the lake where you had camped together and ultimately had your first kiss.

Meanwhile, you stand in the middle of the cemetery, gazing at the large space around you that you can utilize.

Unsheathing your penknife, you grasp it firmly in your palm before you turn to Lucario and your pokemon.

“Do not let anyone enter,” you utter, and your pokemon nod in acknowledgement.

You watch them disperse then glance at the knife in your hand.

“Let us begin,” Deimos says, and you nod. “Do exactly as I say.”

You slide the blade over your hand as instructed, the blade tearing your skin apart so seamlessly and effortlessly…but you do not feel any pain; as fresh blood begins to bubble out from your sliced flesh, you put the blade down and dab a finger into the wound.

Lowering yourself over the ground, you begin to swipe your fingers over the concrete, drawing various symbols and runes.

Leon arrives at the cemetery, having guessed this would be where you are, and as he hops off Charizard’s back, he thanks his pokemon and races towards the locked gates where he sees you within, crouching over the ground near the mausoleum; you’re engrossed with some task that concerns writing in the dirt…and he sees that your hands are drenched with blood.

Leon yells your name but you do not respond, and as he tries to open the huge gates, they don’t budge as predicted. He could always scale the fence or fly over the barrier using Charizard but before he can even take one simple step, Gengar appears from out of nowhere, accompanied with a shiny Lucario holding a wooden staff.

He studies the pokemon carefully, in particular, the shiny Lucario. It’s as you mentioned - the Lucario is real. Gengar, with his never-ending grin, slowly shakes his head before gathering a massive swirl of energy in his hands.

It’s a Shadow Ball, and Gengar quickly sends it hurtling towards Leon’s direction whilst the Lucario spins his staff in a circle and aims the tip at Charizard, a bright light shooting out.

Charizard counters the attack by spewing forth a burst of flames and immediately zooms towards Leon to protect his friend, Gengar’s attack hitting him squarely in the belly.

“Charizard!” Leon yells, before he flings his glance to the pokemon. “What are you doing?”

“You cannot intervene,” Lucario replies, his voice loud and as clear as day.

Charizard snorts in disbelief at the talking pokemon and turns to gawp at your direction; you’re oblivious to the gathering outside, drawing on the ground without stopping.

To get the message across, Gengar flings a Dark Pulse at the flame pokemon and Leon grits his teeth as Charizard dodges.

“I need to go to her,” he yells, but Lucario shakes his head and twirls his staff in his paws, moving to an offensive stance. “Charizard, use flamethrower!”

Outside, you can hear the disturbance as the three-way pokemon battle begins between Gengar, Lucario and Charizard; you’re finished with your runes regardless and you rise to stand, swaying slightly from the blood loss, your body feeling weak.

Surrounded by bloody symbols, you move to the centre of the pentagram you’ve drawn, kneeling down.

“Ready?”

You nod, closing your eyes before you take a deep breath, attempting to drown out the distracting noises of the battle outside.

“Voco autem a tenebrarum gente omnia mala de fovea,” you murmur, holding your arms out, your palms facing upwards; the blood in your hands trickling down your fingertips and nails, droplets staining the ground. “Phobos, viditur.”

Your incantation is finished, you return to the edge of the circle and the sky above swiftly turns from its usual light blue hue to a deep, intense red.

Leon and the pokemon stop at once, throwing their gazes up. Lucario, with no more intention to battle due to the ritual being successfully completed, lowers his staff and Leon rushes up to the gates of the cemetery, grasping the cold bars as a strong wind begins to pick up, sending leaves and debris on the floor whirling high into the air.

He yells your name again whilst Charizard takes to the air and attempts to fly inside – he’s immediately repelled by an invisible force and his body slams backwards. Roaring in confusion, Charizard huffs as he gets back up before he unleashes a massive barrage of flames at the invisible barrier.

Leon watches as the symbols surrounding you begin glowing brightly before the ground splinters; you do not move or step backwards and Leon calls out to you, his pleas falling onto deaf ears.

His eyes widen as soon as numerous black tendrils begin to crawl out from the gaps of the cracked earth, some of them slinking over your feet and stretching towards your calves…the ground bursts apart and the huge creature buried within rises high and into the air with a loud roar, towering over your small form.

Your gaze lands on the creature that manifests, its dark limbs spiralling and contorting in the air before they settle to float around its body aimlessly. It is a creature of unholy origin, something that doesn’t belong here.

“Phobos,” you murmur.

It shifts and coils, the black mass curling into itself and out before a single red light forms in the middle of its body.

“Who has summoned me?”

Its words slither out in a series of scratches and hisses and once it spots you, it lowers itself to your level, peering at you with its glowing red eyes.

“You,” it says. “You have finally figured it out.”

A black tendril shoots out, wrapping itself around your neck tightly and lifting you off the ground as though you weighed nothing; your legs dangle as you’re raised up a few feet off the ground. You struggle, legs kicking as it snickers and sneers.

“You fool; I was going to devour you later, but since you seem so keen….”

Phobos’ voice grows fainter and fainter, its words slowing down as the darkness it is made out of begins to spread, blanketing your vision.

As you stare into the abyss, you attempt to detect any traces of movement that might explain its existence or the matter it’s composed of. Even at this moment, to the very end, you’re still trying to understand, to figure out how things work.

How it works.

But nothing remotely comes to mind.

You can liken it to a black hole but ultimately, you cannot fathom the origins or how it came to exist.

And now you’re going to be devoured.

Deimos’ voice returns: “What’s the happiest memory you can recall?”

“I don’t know.”

“Choose one.”

A series of events are presented to you, almost like a reel. How quaint. A flash of light flickers and there’s a scene depicting you, Sonia and Magnolia and the pokemon having tea in the conservatory. You smile; of course, you had so many lovely, tender memories with Sonia and the professor who treated you like one of their own.

However, it’s quick to change from the conservatory to show you and Jace sitting on the sofa in his apartment, watching and laughing as you watch TV. You had always cherished the time you had spent together no matter how simple it was.

It’s Ezra now. He’s barking orders, using his cane to correct your posture as he circles you. This was a few years ago when you had started training. You’re standing in front of a target – an awkward-looking boulder with a bullseye messily drawn on – and with a talisman in hand, you’re trying to toss it properly and in the best way possible.

“Again,” he barks when you fail, and you remember thinking how harsh and strict he was back then.

Graves is next, and the image of you training with Ezra switches to a scene consisting of you and Graves quietly seated down, watching the game at home on leather recliners. You never realized that although it was a bad time, mere days after your family’s disappearance, but you really appreciated him taking the time to keep you company.

Then the scene changes to the time he taught you several ways on how to hold your torch and another time when you played with Growlithe and Manectric... and finally, you see yourself and Graves eating at Bob’s Your Uncle.

Next, you see Leon. You're camping with him in the Wild Area, sitting close together in those small foldable chairs and looking at the night sky. It’s when you had your first kiss. He’s looking at you and holding your hand so tightly and lovingly, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, and you smile for you remember this, how truly wonderful it all was.

“You have lived a meaningful life,” Deimos says.

“Thank you,” you reply.

”This is it,” it says.

”I know.”

A single tear drips down your cheek because you know what will happen next.

It averts you to look at Phobos, but you are no longer afraid.

Deimos abruptly bursts out of you in a spray of black and promptly pounces on the creature that was holding you, overwhelming it and tearing it apart, ripping it into shreds; you’re released due to the unprovoked attack and you collapse over the ground, unmoving.

Copious amounts of blood gush out from every orifice – your eyes, mouth, nose and ears.

Leon slams his fists against the invisible barrier over and over again.

Loud, unearthly shrieks can be heard as the two creatures maul and fight each other viciously, slashing at one another and ripping each other apart with brutal abandon until one emerges the victor; the one that had emerged from your body.

It stands proudly over its opponent which lies motionless and is beginning to fade away. Victorious, it faces the sky and emits an ear-splitting screech.

Leon winces from the sound, and his fist finally slips through.

The barrier is gone.

The red sky gradually clears, returning to the normal, tranquil blue.

He rushes inside, acting purely on adrenaline, his mind in utter chaotic shambles. He makes his way up to the centre of the graveyard where your body lies sprawled in a pool of blood and he slowly drops to his knees before you, easing you carefully off the ground and into his arms.

There’s so much blood; his fingers are completely soaked as he brushes some hair away from your bloodstained face. You’re unrecognizable.

Leon murmurs your name and gives you a little shake.

Your body wobbles from the action but there is no response.

The massive coil of black floats beside him; it is as dark as the night sky, hovering in the air with very limited shape or distinguished form, freed from the constraints of gravity. Its body is dotted with plenty of red lights which he recognizes to be eyes. They rotate and roll around this sea of darkness with carefree abandon, but they are all focused on him.

Leon can only stare; this cannot be a pokemon. This cannot be a creation of Arceus. Its design, its origins, are far too complex to have been engineered from earth.

It zips to his left, surrounding him and your body, peering at the Champion inquisitively before it looks at you. Then it dives upside down to gaze at Leon and returns to its proper upright position.

“You can see me.”

Leon nods.

The eyes crease with content.

“It is done,” it says, “Phobos is gone.”

…

White ceiling.

Bright lights.

Overlapping voices.

Squeaking wheels.

A sterile, noisy environment.

“We’re losing her!”

“Hurry up!”

You shake your head at all this unnecessary noise, sighing.

“Sissy!” exclaims a cheerful, happy voice behind you, and you turn round to see your little sister running up to you, holding a Teddiursa doll in one hand and Sunkern in the other whilst Cutiefly buzzes near her shoulder.

“Rosie! Cutie! Sunkern?!”

“Heehee, yes, we’re here!” Rosie says with a giggle as she jumps into your waiting arms.

You lift her up and into your arms with a grunt, Cutiefly flies over and nuzzles you gently, then he buries himself into Rosie’s hair and as you look at your sister, you exclaim, “Oh my gosh, look at you, you’re all grown up! I’ve missed you so much!”

She giggles and wraps her arm around your head, kicking her legs around happily. “I missed you too, sissy.”

Turning to the Pokemon, you murmur, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

”They say it’s not your fault,” Rosie remarks as Cutiefly does a few loops and Sunkern squeaks.

Over the white horizon, a familiar black blob is making its way over to you.

It stops a short distance away before contorting and shifting and expelling two bright lights which come floating out. They are safely deposited to the ground and the blob returns to its proper shape.

“As promised, here are your parents,” Deimos says.

“Thank you, Deimos,” you say as you adjust your hold on Rosie.

“You are welcome.”

Deimos retreats and dissolves into wispy black smoke, leaving behind a familiar couple who head towards your direction at their own leisurely pace.

When the couple finally arrives, stopping shortly in front of you, you gently let Rosie down, who rushes towards mum with a grin.

“Mum, sissy’s here!” she says, and mum picks her up next and into her arms.

Your mum looks at Rosie and smiles, before shifting her gaze to you.

Glancing at the smiling faces of your mother and father and sister, you squeeze your eyes shut and smack a hand over your mouth, before you promptly burst into heartfelt sobs and they quickly move to your side.

“Mum, dad…I missed you so much.”

“We know.”

Your mum gently places Rosie down so she can wrap her arms around you, and your father joins in the huddle.

You're shaking as they hold you, sobbing and sniffling uncontrollably

Rosie is squashed in the middle although she giggles and clings to your side, and mum and dad hold you tightly with their eyes closed whilst you bury yourself in their inexplicable warmth, trembling and weeping in their arms.

They really are here.

It’s as though none of this happened and they had never left your side.

“I had a bad dream,” you say as you finally stop, reduced to a few hiccups every now and then.

You gently pull away so you can look at them and you want to look at them for as long as you can, for it's been such a long time since you had seen them in the flesh and not from a picture.

“I had a horrible dream where you were all taken away from me and I was alone. And I wanted to save you. I wanted to save you all.”

“And you did,” says dad, smiling. “We’re finally free.”

A mournful sob escapes your lips as you close your eyes again, and your parents usher you into their embrace again.

”It’s okay, we’re here.”

You shake your head. “I’m scared that I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be gone again.”

”Don’t be scared, we really are here.”

As you snivel, nodding weakly, you slowly open your eyes; your mother and father stand proudly before you, wearing kind smiles on their faces.

“We’re so sorry we weren’t there for you.”

You shake your head.

”You’ve had to grow up without us. You went through so much.”

Again, you shake your head.

“But seeing you now, we’re so proud of you,” mum says as you emit another choked sob. ���You’ve worked so hard and you've helped so many people...we're so proud of you, dear…and now the next chapter of your life’s about to begin.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Here, here, look down there and have a look yourself,” mum says with a chuckle, and she steps away and you follow her to what appears to be a ledge where she peers down. “Look at that handsome young man by your side; despite seeing all these horrendous, evil monstrosities, he is still there for you.”

As you stand by her side, she gestures for you to glance down which you do, where you see a despondent Leon sitting by your side, holding your hand. You’re in a hospital room, lying on a bed with an IV drip and hooked up to a heart monitor. This has happened before.

Dad nods in approval. “He has my blessing.”

“Mine too,” mum replies, and your parents chortle and giggle to each other and as you watch Leon, your heart plummets.

“Well, Rosie, the great beyond awaits. Let’s go,” dad says, and he picks up Rosie’s hand and mum takes hold of her other.

“I’m scared,” Rosie says, glancing between your parents.

“Don’t be. I heard there’s a lot of marshmallows and Teddiursas waiting for us.”

“Okay,” she says timidly, “will sissy be coming too?”

”No, darling.”

You blink in disbelief. “Wait, what? What are you talking about? Where are you going?” you say, making a move to follow them but they turn to you with smiles.

“It’s not your time yet, dear,” mum replies.

“What do you mean? I…I was killed. Deimos killed me.”

They shake their heads.

“Not your time,” says dad, “And I’m darn relieved it’s not. You have yet to live a promising life with Leon.”

”But...”

”Tell your Uncle Chris I said ‘hi’, and not to blame himself anymore.”

“…It’s really not my time yet?”

“Of course not, you still have plenty of more adventures with that young man,” says mum; she smiles too but quickly drops it, mirroring your sullen expression. "I'm sorry, dear. You finally got to see us but...."

"It's okay, mum. I'm just glad I got to see you all again. Even if it's...the very last time,” you reply.

Your family return to your side once more where you share one last embrace with your parents and Rosie. You close your eyes as you hold them tightly; you want to hold onto them for much longer but deep inside, you know you have to let go.

You let go of Rosie last, giving her an extra squeeze before she leaves your arms.

“Take care, dear. We love you.”

"Bye mum, bye dad. I love you too.”

“Bye sissy,” Rosie says, scooping her hand out of your father’s so she can wave at you.

"Bye Rosie," you reply, waving. “I love you.”

“Love you!!”

They're walking away now, and you're deathly afraid that the moment they turn their backs to you they'll vanish from your eyes, leaving nothing but that desolate, empty void that was rooted within you for years and years from the very moment they were forcibly taken away...but strangely enough, that feeling never comes.

Your mind is at ease, your heart content as they throw glances at you from over their shoulders, smiling and waving.

You watch as they slowly move further away and away from you until their voices are scattered and slowly, dissolve into faint whispers in the wind and finally, silence.

They are bathed in a comforting glow and you feel at ease and tranquil as they laugh and smile, disappearing into the warm and serene light.

…

Ezra sits on the bench outside with Absol by his side, his dull eyes unfocused and staring limply into nothingness until he hears footsteps approaching.

An individual plops down on the empty space and there is the sound of a newspaper being flipped open, the paper crinkling under their grip, followed by a very weary sigh.

“Hello, my old friend.”

“…Deimos.” Ezra grunts under his breath.

“Your world is rid of a great evil. You must be happy.”

The old man emits a disgruntled sigh under his breath. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“She will be fine.”

He harrumphs, before his lips spread into a smile. “No sacrifices necessary this time?”

The newspaper is carefully flipped to the next page and the voice hums nonchalantly, “Well, herself – which she was aware of...but I brought her back as you requested.”

”No side effects?”

”No.”

“Her family?”

“Safe and moving on.”

“Thanks,” Ezra replies, “...Thank you.”

Deimos brings out a cigarette and a lighter is switched on, the little device emitting a satisfying crackle. “Would you like one?”

“I can’t.”

“Cancer, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“I have never tried one before. I'm very intrigued."

Ezra listens as the cigarette is lit up, Deimos inhales and takes a deep drag then exhales heavily, blowing some crisp, smoke into the air. In a few seconds, he begins to cough and choke.

“This is vile,” he croaks out, and Ezra laughs.

He hasn’t laughed for a while now, not like this. It’s refreshing yet so strange.

“What’s so funny?” says a new voice, gruff and deep, and Ezra quirks a brow as another set of footsteps approach the bench.

“Hm, if it isn’t Chief Inspector Graves. You feeling better?”

”I’m fine. Thanks for asking. You?”

”I’m well.”

Graves glances at Deimos next. “And you are?”

“I'm an old friend.”

Graves responds with a grunt under his breath before he throws his glance to the cigarette. “You got a spare?”

“I do. Would you like one?” Deimos asks.

“Yeah, gimme.”

Graves plops himself on the remaining empty space of the bench beside Ezra once Deimos hands him a cigarette, and he takes a deep drag before exhaling into the atmosphere. “I haven’t had one in years.”

“Don’t make it a habit.” Ezra warns.

"I know my limits."

"How is she?"

"She's in a stable condition now. There was a lot of blood loss but she's pulling through.”

There’s a brief silence as the men sit quietly before they inwardly sigh with relief.

“Weather’s awfully good today, isn’t it?” Graves mutters, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah,” Ezra replies, “it sure is.”

..

..

Many months later.

Leon has a Pokemon battle against Gloria.

He gives it all his best, but he loses.

He is no longer Champion and he silently heads towards the dark corridor on his own, leaving behind the fanfare, the confetti and the cheering, which is no longer for him.

Up ahead, a young woman in a white labcoat leans against the wall, waiting. When he arrives, however, she pushes herself off to stand properly.

Leon grins and makes his way over, sliding his hands around her waist and bringing her close to him, enveloping her into his chest. She wraps her arms around him in response, holding onto him firmly, eyes squeezed shut.

For what feels like a long time, they stand comfortably in each other's warm embrace and when they part, albeit still in each other's arms, he lifts a hand and brushes a loose strand of hair from her face, away from her eyes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he murmurs.

She shakes her head, smiling. “Not at all.”

“Let’s go.”

He reaches for her and she reaches for him.

Hand in hand, they head for the exit together, towards a future unknown.

..

..

#pokemon #pkmn #leon #dande #leon x you #leon x reader #reader #reader insert #jeralee #fanfic #fic #pokemonshield #pokemonswordandshield #pokemonsword #pokemonshieldsword #pokemonshieldandsword #archive of our own #Comfort in Despair

[taerseok]

HENLOOOO PENNYYYYYY!!!!!! MISS YOU SO MUCH!!!!! How have you been? 😩💕💖 Do you have anything you've been doing lately fic wise? What about non fic wise? 👁️👄👁️💕💖 Tell us everything!

i miss you tooooo!!!

i’ve been writing quite a bit for this anime lolol and bangtan fics too. but life’s been really busy these days with events flying over my head and whatnot. and studying T_T man i hate studying. but i’m planning to post fics very very soon (hard to believe coming from me i understand :p) hehe

#ask #theheartshaker #lovely new url btw

[sukisdeliveryservice]

hi ash!! :D tysm for the summer questions >< we actually dont have four season in malaysia, its pretty much just desert era for the first half of the year and the rain forest era for the second half KSJSJSJJSJ so it's raining a lot nowadays which is amazing bc the nights are cooler 😌

for the questions!

something new you want to try? i'd really love to learn dancing and painting, though im not even the slightest bit good at either, i think it'd be pretty cool to know how to

beach or mountains? definitely the beach! the mountains may be cooler (which is very very tempting) but the bugs and ghost stories scare the crap out of me T-T also, i can build sandcastles and go on boats and stuff at the beach so it seems like an absolute win to me :D

best and worst part of summer? well, like i mentioned we dont have four seasons in malaysia, but it definitely does feel like summer most of the time. the worst part would obviously be the heat, but also if i had the money and appropriate weather, i see myself as a more dark academia person in terms of clothing style? with weather like this it's pretty hard to dress in turtle necks and sweaters 😔 but! the best part i guess would be that we dont have to buy extra clothing for four seasons? KDJDJDJ other than that i cant really say our weather is my favourite :/

favourite amusement park ride!! honestly? anything that throws you up and down and spins you around and makes the average person want to hurl their guts out KSJJSJ i just really enjoy the adrenaline rush i get! its also an extremely good excuse for me to scream at the top of my lungs :D

what would you bring to a picnic? i honestly have never been on a picnic before so i guess the default sandwiches and orange juice? maybe some jellies or cupcakes as well? i dont really know tbh KSJJSJS but i'd love to fly a kite on the picnic so a kite is coming along as well :D

fav svt summer comeback!! not technically a comeback, more like a pre release but my my has a special place in my heart <333

and here's some soobin for you 0_^

- carrot anon sam :D

ahh your weather is so cool sam!! tbh it's similar to the philippines so i get what you're saying, would love to visit sometime :3 if anything, come to canada and try out your dark academia style and we'll head over to an amusement park to kick in our adrenaline hehe thank you for your answers T_T it was so fun to read them and do this event with you, have a lovely day!!

#sam 🥑💌 #💎 #ily pitbull's granddaughter #soobin makes me sad #these photos make my heart race #i must be going insane #ily!!!!

[kakooshi]

I was tagged by @tatakaeeren! Thank you so much, you always deliver with your beautiful edits (Ｔ▽Ｔ) ♡ 

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I don’t have much to offer because I’m more of a shitposter than a content creator, but here are the works I can say I’m proud of. Most of them will be recent since I’m still a beginner.

1. Kakashi caressing Obito’s face: The first manip I ever made as a contribution for Kakaobi Week 2020. It’s not perfect but somehow I broke the hearts of people who thought it was real :^D Kakaobi is one of those ships that’s not quite a rarepair but not quite popular either (at least in the West). I was bitter that neither Kakashi nor Obito touched the scars they got from saving each other as children, so this edit was born! 

2. Naruto’s Kakaplushie: I dislike fillers as much as the next person, but I’ve found that they’re a bounty for gifsets lol. I wasn’t surprised most Naruto fans didn’t know about Naruto owning a Kakashi plushie that he probably made himself since it was shown right after the credits of a filler! You never know what you’re gonna get!

3. Zuko and Katara’s denial parallels: I noticed that Zuko and Katara were the only characters who denied being in a relationship (with Jin and Jet respectively in Book 2). I thought it was the perfect setup for them denying June’s assumption that they were together. It also would’ve been a nice execution of the “third time’s the charm” trope ugh, my 10-year old ass still hasn’t gone over them T_T

4. Win and Save!: Midoriya and Bakugou got me into creating gifs :D I remember freaking out over Bakugou’s concerned face towards Midoriya in the final trailer of the 2nd BNHA movie and immediately started looking up photoshop tutorials (I was trembling) because I just had to make an edit of it. I didn’t change the colors but I like how it turned out.

5. Eren “No-nonsense” Jaeger: This is just a manga cap compilation I made for the Eren Appreciation Event 2018 featuring Eren playing it straight with everyone XD I just love how highly perceptive he is of other people and how he’s not afraid of voicing his honest opinions to them, especially when they’re bullshitting him. King shit.

Bonus: Ereri secret relationship fic, Ereri 3dmg flying date fic, Mikasa manga cap edit ch. 104, [Shitposts incoming XD] Who’s the father, Historia?, Levi has a knife.

Tagging: @roxi4 @yuuki-ko @nicoliputski @lampurple @yushiiechii @oekakiuma @nadiaaisyah @kcokaine @rirururu @commandererwin @verratenduo @chibinico and anyone who wants to do this! I’d love to see your stuff ;D This is optional though, so it’s okay if you don’t want to! <3

#misc #tagged #im crying i cant believe i was included among so many talented peeps dkjhkjshkj IM UNWORTHY #snk spoilers

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch: 1x01: Snow Gives Way

-Someone barging into Ward's office acting like they own the place and also know Harold is alive must have sent such a jolt of fear through Ward for a second

-Ward puts himself between Danny and Joy when it seems like Danny might get physical

-Ward tells Joy not to have Danny arrested - Harold concerns?

-Danny PTSD set off by the elevator turbulence?? But he was fine going up. Just stress induced? He's shaking.

-FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT BREAK INTO THAT HOUSE

-Joy's dog just disappears after this episode?

-Danny just meditates or something to get that dog to calm down. Calms his mind so as to seem not a threat / not present? Is Danny some sort of animal whisperer? I'm now positive that at some point during Danny and Ward's Adventures Across Asia, they were stranded somewhere for some reason, Ward is complaining about being stuck in some muddy backwater hick town or whatever, Danny just sort of strolls up to some large animals (attached to a cart? Wait, that would be stealing. Hm...) goes all zen state, then says to Ward "they'll take us to the next town" like that's a normal series of events and not COMPLETELY INSANE, DANNY, WHAT THE F---.

-Pictures on Joy's shelf: Harold with his arm around young Joy, all six of them on some vacation. Rands + Meachums kind of separated in this photo, though. Don't people normally stand closer together in group photos? Also, young Joy much shorter than young Danny. Note: Wendall's hands on both Heather and Danny's shoulders. Harold's hand on Joy's shoulder. Ward and Danny both have hands in pockets.

-"Dad says rules are for pussies" ;___; (Young Ward refusing to pay monopoly rent because he just doesn't want to. Starting the corrupt financial elite training off early, huh?)

-"Oh, here comes Mommy and Daddy to protect you and give you lots of hugs and kisses and tell you what a sweet little boy you are. It's disgusting. *sweeps all the game pieces off the table even though they've clearly been playing for awhile and it's not like Danny just won he was only asking for like $200*" Ward, you dramatic bitch. Also, they were literally only saying they were home, not necessarily rushing in to protect Danny from the Big Bad Ward refusing to pay $200 monopoly money. Metaphorically, I suppose this is still Ward being a sore loser, though. It's not monopoly Danny beat him at, it's having parents who love him. T_T AND THEN HE LIES ABOUT IT, PLAYING THE BELEAGUERED BABYSITTER, ASDFGHJKL - WARD. (Note: neither Danny nor Joy speak up against this blatant unfairness. Previous failure? YOU'RE SUCH A BULLY, WARD.)

-Big Al is first person to be friendly to Danny and I'm sure Danny doesn't forget it. Headcanon Danny is def actively caring towards 'lower class', including homeless and drug addicts, and actually sees + treats them as equals. Classism definitely a theme in these shows with the people who struggle financially like Colleen being the kindest and most charitable and the rich being assholes.

-But also why is he informing Danny that the internet can be used as a search engine with no prior indication in their conversation that Danny doesn't know this? I mean, Danny does not, in fact, know this, but.

-In the news article, the photo of the Rands is the same one in Joy's apartment, but the Meachums are not there. However, they are not merely cropped out: the background extends into the spot they should occupy. Did some poor news article graphic designer have to go find a photo of that tourist spot background at the exact right angle and photoshop them together to get rid of the Meachums, or was Joy's photo a photoshopped family vacation image, which could have explained the awkward distance between the two families, even though it wouldn't have been that hard in editing to set them all closer together? Maybe they all still went on the same vacation together, but instead of asking a passerby to take a photo for them, both families took photos of each other and then someone combined them at a later date? Practically speaking, that still means the angle would be likely to be off for the background, and it's also suspicious that there are zero other tourists around. These rich families rented out the entire space?? Would lend to lack of external parties to take a group pic for them. Obviously, IRL explanation is they're all photoshopped onto a static background, but fun to think of the in-universe reasons. ...Actually, most likely explanation is that they took multiple photos - Rand only, Meachum only, maybe also kids only, Wendall+Harold only, etc, as well as group. So this entire train of thought is inconsequential. Oops.

-Harold had a big event funeral, "mayor and everything"? That must have been fun for both Harold and Ward, with significantly different usages of the word 'fun'.

-Hello Joy, not only did I follow you home to accost you at your front door the morning after I attacked the security at your workplace to enter your probably restricted top floor executives offices, I also did extensive research into your childhood history down to the position you and your friend played on your childhood soccer team, oh and also I broke into your house yesterday where I interacted with your dog. Now watch while I prove my physical prowess by flipping over a taxi.

-Bird flying into city while Danny meditates?? Symbolically, follows the idea of the bird flying through the pass that was Danny's sign to leave K'un Lun and return to NYC. Spiritually - what? AU where the bird is Danny's spirit animal and he's connected to it / seeing through its eyes right now. For the HDM AU fans: bird could be Danny's separated dæmon? (Would a HDM AU Danny's dæmon be a dragon? Honestly, idk how much dragon stereotypes match Danny's personality. Would have to think about that. Would be funny if someone else had the dragon dæmon, not any of the Fist holders.)

-Danny. Danny. Colleen JUST HUNG THAT FLYER UP. Take one of the little tabbies, if you must, that's what they're for, but don't take the entire flyer down! Those cost money, you know. And it takes time to cut all those little tabbies out and then go around hanging the flyers up.

-Colleen be like "dear god, this is why you shouldn't be nice to people, they start trying to hit on you, @ random park dude, please stop talking at me and following me while I continually shift out of your line of vision"

-Danny: "Hey you speak Chinese? I speak Chinese." Colleen: "I'm Japanese you dick. :)"

-Ward: I'm gonna make sure our personal security team is guarding you against this clear and present threat, but also we're still not calling the police??

-Ward turns this from either a crazy homeless guy or a scam artist into a potential organized corporate sabotage - the kind of threat that Joy is more easily able to compartmentalize her emotions on and crush under her heel?

-Ward just gets into a moving vehicle with someone he has verbally acknowledged as an active threat to his family. Did you have ANY stranger danger safety lessons growing up, Ward?

-Danny now appears to be actively threatening Ward, while using the reasoning that Ward and everyone else have been seriously trying his patience and he's in danger of losing his temper, but he's still giving Ward one last chance to back down. Note: this is a technique commonly employed by abusers, and probably more triggering to Ward than Danny knows, even though Danny probably actually does think he's being sincere as opposed to manipulative.

-->Aaaand Ward responds by ratcheting up instead, because of course he does, IMMEDIATELY leading to the gun to head scene. oh, geez.

-Danny provides personal details - probably this is the moment Ward starts to believe it might actually be Danny somehow, against all logic and reason. He looks shaken, then immediately starts trying to gaslight Danny. asdfghjkl WARD.

-->Ward lying to Danny's face and putting himself in the position of the righteous with Danny as the person in the wrong when they both know it's a lie is very reminiscent of the monopoly scene from when they were kids and the implied constant behavior from when they were kids. But this time, Danny doesn't accept it the way he did as a kid. He stares at Ward, remembering this pattern, actively teetering on PTSD flashback mode, and fights back. Makes Ward think he might be about to kill them both - while having flashbacks that hinder his ability to stop so Danny in hindsight gets freaked out about what he almost did too. (Note: looking freaked out and claiming he didn't mean to almost kill them both just now was probably more concerning to Ward rather than less.) And then he promises he'll be back because this isn't over. gdi, Danny, no wonder Ward wants you gone asap.

-Colleen, trying to tell Danny to go away because he's being a creeper: TAKE A HINT TAKE A HINT

-Danny, casually: Oh yeah Master Lei Gun "The Thunderer" used to smack me hard in the face with the practice swords

-Colleen bringing a sword to a gun fight

-Danny grabs enemy's gun, but not to use as weapon/defense - only to disarm it and run off - which Colleen sees.

-What festival is this that's happening in Chinatown? Has anyone figured out an IF timeline? Could compare dates to real world events, see if there's any potential cross over.

-None of these bystanders so much as bother to look at the fistfights happening 2 feet away from them

-Ward sitting in his office eating his food (it has decorative greens so you know it's ~fancy~) and answers his phone smiling because he's expecting the good news that Danny-probably-an-impersonator-but-also-potentially-maybe-not-but-we're-not-thinking-about-that-Ward-get-a-hold-of-yourself is dead. Way to be a villain stereotype, Ward. I know you try real hard at it so good job uwu

-Harold intro. Ward clearly at his beck and call and just as clearly resentful of it. "I think...” *resigned* “-of course, right away." is such immediate shorthand for someone abusing the power imbalance. (Note: Ward puts off approaching Harold with the "Danny problem" until night 2, tries to handle it quietly until he has implicated himself (Danny now knows Ward tried to have him killed) and Danny is still present and now an even bigger threat)

-So many elevators. All express to specific floors/areas? This lobby is so unsettling. Elevator leads to another hall full of elevators, then stairs, then handprint access to hall with second elevator into penthouse. (Note: Ward is one of those people who press the close door button multiple times with a frustrated facial expression)

-Ward to Harold: "How do you even know about that? ...Shit. Are you behind this? Is this another one of your stupid tests?"

-Harold to Ward: "I wish you would take things like this more seriously, so I don't see my company destroyed."

-Photos on Harold's shelf: young Joy, posed photo of Meachums in formal-ish clothing, Harold's hands on both kids shoulders, indistinguishable group of people on a bridge(?) somewhere. Group photo atop a fancy box, Joy photo in front of the Meachum family photo. On Harold's desk: another photo of young Joy, this one looks like one of those posed school photos where they have the kid stand against a "tree" backdrop.

-Ward says out loud that he could ignore Harold and Harold wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Harold casually observes that Ward is now and has always been childish. Ward remarks that Harold has been telling Ward he's disappointed in him his whole life. Harold is still disappointed in Ward right now.

-Harold: this is how you make your employees loyal to you. *proceeds to display his complete dominance over Kyle, who looks nervous and threatened by the direct attention* Ward: "Jesus, Dad, what the hell is wrong with you?" (Still doesn't do anything to remove Kyle from this situation though)

-Harold lectures at Ward as if everything Ward has ever done is wrong, always, including snapping his fingers at him when he starts to speak himself, like a bad dog, and listing off things that Ward has already brought up to Joy as if Ward is an incompetent who would never consider those angles himself

-Ward makes a snide comment, Harold snaps at him, Ward smiles a little bit because he has succeeded in getting under Harold's skin for a moment

-Harold: Leave this to me. I'll tell you exactly what to do. Ward: Like always. Harold: Like always.

-Awww, Danny was rushing back to tell his new friend Al all about Ward sending people to kill him, possibly looking for advice? ;_; (Also, why is there a foreboding music significance to Al having a bird tattoo? Does this ever come back??? I don't remember this mystery going anywhere.)

-Danny is lurking in Joy's office. He doesn't say anything even slightly reassuring, like that he has an appointment, just heavily implies that he snuck in. sigh.

-"I'm not gonna hurt you," Danny laughs, after displaying a whole lot of extremely threatening behavior. Joy smiles, drugs him, and buys time until it kicks in.

#iron fist rewatch #iron fist #snow gives way #my stuff #the immortal iron fist