#i mean. should have seen it coming knowing those melodies are made by different instruments throughout the melody

[machidielontheway]

consciously understanding that a hurdy gurdy only have two octaves and this means i can't play my favourites soundtrack (HTTYD hello my forever love) on it without playing dirty key changes everywhere :(

[you-did-well-moon]

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager. 

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt. 

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

 You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes. 

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close. 

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

 Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep. 

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise. 

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

 He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home. 

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager,  getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have. 

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap. 

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

 “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail. 

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while. 

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

 How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

 “I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine. 

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

 He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you. 

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again. 

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

 With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step. 

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest. 

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.  

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

[voidcat]

– rushed whispers

wc: 1.3k + 0.4k ; warnings: (implied) smut, so,, suggestive at best ig

a/n: ik thats not what the anon wanted w I Bet On Losing Dogs but it was nice to put it on repeat while writing this.

It begins like a faint melody, soft and gentle.

A tone of sadness always lingers, a possibility of what could’ve been and the ‘what-if’s; though it never leaves a bad taste, just… distinct.

Like swaying to an old tune, his breath dances on your skin, your hands fumbling with his vest.

Little words spoken, sounds filling the air, the specifics always blur by the time you cut to the chase. The locations do not matter, neither is picky. It’s spontaneous, exciting, the risks keep it going and making your chest race with the possibilities.

So little spoken out loud when there is much to be said and discussed.

In its entirety, it’s just the noises that fill the air, fingers working ever so quickly; skins touching, tracing, nails sinking and marking. It’s just his breath fawning over your ear and your lips on his neck, words have long lost their meanings, as always.

A wordless agreement of sorts. It’s never discussed, nor planned. One seeks out the other and you begin tiptoeing around each other again. Almost like a dance in the dark, that’s how it feels, with your eyes barely open but never off each other, relishing in the pleasure, it ends as it begins.

And Dazai, he never takes his eyes off you. Yet there’s so little light, so little spark in them. Hints and traces of various degrees of emotions flow endlessly but they look exactly as you feel in such escapes, like a veil pulled over, no room for a source of light. Sometimes you wonder if he even possesses a heart.

It’s silly, how on one hand your minds hazy and on the other you think such things. He might think of the same things for you, for all you know.

But you never will, and that’s exactly the point.

Dazai is good at many things and keeping this strictly as intended is one of these.

Grab the bolo tie and pull him in, he’ll be latching on to you instantly. Teeth and skin, he is everywhere. It’s rushed, it’s deep, there’ll be marks in the evening and neither ever really cares.

Isn’t this the point? To not care, to not be attached. Simply a business affair on pleasure. What better way to ensure your colleague will be on his top performance than to make sure of it yourself?

No feelings or strings, they say, but none of it was ever discussed since the beginning. How could any of it work if feelings weren’t a part of it? Every time a new surprise, be it rough, gentle, attentive or selfish. You suppose it’d never be what they call “love making” but then again, that’s not what either of you are craving.

Love isn’t needed when you get to feel every other emotion to feel there is.

“Hey, would you come out for a sec?” It’s as easy like this to get you outside. And next your back will be pressed against the cold surface. He’s onto you in an instant, his warmth making up for the cold that’s growing. While he is busy with your neck, your hands start with the practiced routine.

By the time the buttons come undone, he moves on from your neck, impatient as ever. Still, he often holds the back of your neck during these, and he is careful with the pressure he is applying, making sure your head never hits against the wall, tilting your head while considering the angles to your comfort.

Your mind grows foggy, such is the effect of Dazai, and despite it, you cannot stop thinking. Of all the small details, gestures, what goes on and doesn’t, focusing on the pleasure is one but this? It’s another.

And he knows, that your mind is elsewhere – you know it too. Again, shouldn’t that be a part of it? To take each other’s minds off of things?

Even when your attention is rarely on him, he doesn’t say much of it, doesn’t demand your attention or care, biting on your neck and sucking on it afterwards, he moves up again.

It’s a way to escape for him too, doesn’t care how much of yourself you’ll give to him. Though this doesn’t change the fact that he likes it when your focus is solely on him.

So you do, one hand to stroke his neck and soon moving to the nape of it, up and grabbing his hair, pulling at the moments you know he’ll like, deepening his biting, the movement of his body, pressed against yours until the both oh you are molded in the shape of one another.

There is roughness and gentleness when it calls for it, but all in all, there is passion in his actions. Knowing your body and his, watching every move and reaction, drinking in the sounds the two of you make, as nothing else matters in that moment.

Until it shatters and the unspoken agreement is back in action. It’s never spoken of until it happens again. The again always comes sooner than expected. He is impatient as he is passionate.

Playing each other like instruments, you like to hear him moan the most. Pulling his hair to make room for yourself and leaving marks on him. Dazai claims he hates pain but loves to chase after it like hungry.

It is a good agreement, though nonexistent.

All the marks remain to remind of the pleasures of the previous encounters. It comes as a bonus, to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, seeing marks of red and purple bloom everywhere, every square of your bodies. Satisfactory, although a little scary, showing how much you the other has seen.

No rules to abide, no strings to get caught in, and another thing you realize is that you never kiss.

Lips have touched everywhere but the faces, those remain clean, undisturbed. Maybe neither of you got a taste for masks, maybe you fear the implications of kissing one’s face.

But as clear as the sky and bright as the sun, this is one of the things that always remain unchanged.

Then Dazai kisses you. His teeth tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it down, he must be aiming to make it bleed there, you surmise.

He has kissed every corner of your body but your face and now here he stands, body against yours again, one hand to hold your neck, other to pull you by the waist, tugging on your lip as if he always does this.

No word was ever spoken yet it was always in the open. It should be your earlobe he’s tugging right now, what is he doing?,you think and ask yourself, until you find yourself kissing him back.

As always, it’s these moments of indulgence and pleasure where your mind is running fast. His skin looks barer than ever, he seems vulnerable. With how his bandages have come undone, how he lets you every time, never once hands holding yours in an attempt to stop. Layer upon layer, tightened straps of gauze and fabric to hide away everything underneath, every piece of him; and they come undone like nothing.

It becomes too loud in an instant.

Then again, hasn’t this always been the case? Weren’t all the choices and gestures you made, all the touches and caressing louder than words could ever be? Doing what words could never achieve, setting rules in untouchable air, to surround and entail you, claim your spirit and mind.

Perhaps he just knew you’d never ask the questions he won’t answer, or he simply trusts you, to an extent, as you do him.

It’s loud, with all the mixed noises, actions and hushed whispers – his eyes on yours as always, you give in and let the moment take in, your focus only on Dazai in this corner of time, as no one else exists.

Eyes like a hawk’s, it’s the moments when he gets to see you without nothing but bliss in mind that he cherishes the most. This time, it’s different and he is aware the reason behind is his actions. Unlike any other time, it’s not mere minutes where he gets to have you completely, a shift of something in you and until the high of it rises and dies down, you’re his, and all of him is yours.

For now, Dazai ignores the consequences of his actions and lives through what little you get to share until it ends.

‘La petite mort’, what a fitting name, he thinks, and how expected of him to enjoy it.

The clock starts ticking again, your pupils are narrowing.

“We’re down for this time, for sure.” You speak out as your breathing returns to normal, voice a still raspy.

“How so?” Dazai asks in return, his usual smile appearing back on his face, his composure looks far better than yours, in which you poke him for.

“Kunikida was right besides us!” you keep whispering the words, trying not to raise your voice. To anyone else, you’d come off agitated however Dazai knows you by now, just a tad worried, that’s all it is. “Even if he didn’t have suspicions before, he does now. We practically handed him over the proof.”

With a sigh, you lean back and run your hands to check your clothes for any fix-ups.

In return, Dazai leans over and rests his forehead by your face. Nobody pays much attention to the tidiness of his bandages so he leaves them be.

Turning his face to yours, the smile you’ve grown to hate never falters. It’s easier to relax somehow, and if he concentrates he can smell the scent of his skin on you. “Well, it’s not like Kunikida gets a say in who we get to see off the clock,” letting out a breath, his smile softens, “does he now?”

Fumbling with your bracelet as you listen, you perk up at his words. “Dazai, these are the work hours, we are on the job right now.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, he can’t blame you for that.

You never talk about any of these, let alone further implications of whatever this is.

You just assumed it’d end as always, going back to your divided lives, pretending nothing happened.

Up until now, nothing ever happened.

For the moment, he lets you ignore his implications.

There’ll be time to talk about these later.

[sugadaily]

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hellooo. Can I request for xiao x female reader? xiao fall in love with a normal girl who is Zhongli friend (they always have a some tea time together) and whenever she going to wangshu inn, she never forget to give some offering (almond tofu) for xiao, even though she never see him.

tysm ♥️

Finally, a request that's not Albedo-//shot//

Mah main boy Xiao yeeeeess, and as a simp I shall give this a full blown fic because I love him that much (that and you didn't specify what type to write hehe) I hope you enjoy my first fic of this precious bb yywyy

*I actually misinterpreted this ask and thought it would be about not seeing him yet still he ends up falling in love and I’m- I hope I did it justice ahahahaha

Reverie with the Wind

Xiao silently falling in love with a normal Female!Reader

Rex Lapis surrounds himself with pleasant people.

This is what Xiao observed in the centuries that he'd served him. Despite being the God of War, despite the wrath he brings upon those who breaks contracts, he manages to draw in those with an aura of pleasantries around them.

This belief was almost broken when Xiao found out about Childe but the way the Geo archon explained his character, the adepti realized that maybe, just maybe there’s more to the Harbinger that he wasn't aware of. So he gave him the benefit of the doubt, with a polearm ready at his side just in case.

The first time Xiao saw you was when Rex Lapis, as Zhongli, made his rare visits to Wangshu Inn during a Sunday morning. The weather was pleasant paired with the nice and fresh breeze that passes by the serene location usually. He felt the archon’s presence almost immediately when he’d step foot on the reception floor.

He was internally ecstatic and curious as to the man’s visitation as he peaked over the railings at the top floor and that was the moment he realized that besides Zhongli there was someone else tagging along for the visit.

The adepti is disappointed it’s not someone he knows so this could mean that you were a new person that the archon somehow managed to pull into his ragtag of a friend circle. There wasn’t anything unusual or... unique to you, the more Xiao analyzed. Not even a Vision. Just a normal denizen that walks through the lands of Liyue. And that sense of normalcy might just be the part that intrigued him the most about you. A normal human standing next to a literal God.

A part of him felt it scandalous to eavesdrop like this: hiding on the top of the roof away from anyone’s eyes as he watches you and Zhongli watch the scenery of Dihua Marsh from the balcony he usually hangs around. This wasn’t one of the archon’s monthly adeptus visits but a tour to Liyue’s beautiful landmarks for his new companion.

“I think he might just be out, we shouldn’t bother him without telling him beforehand, Zhongli.” Your voice was whisked with the breeze and carried it up to his ears. It was soft, modest. Xiao hums to himself. They were talking about him. “If he doesn’t want to be bothered, I’m okay with it, really.”

Zhongli would hum in contemplation as he tilts his head to the side where the building looms over them, looking as if he’d made eye contact with Xiao as he holds his chin. “Out, you say. I guess you make a point, maybe another time would suffice.”

Another hour passes and Xiao had come to realize that you two were meaning to stay from your conversation. Zhongli had brought you over to Wangshu Inn as a recommendation for accommodation and the scenic view it gives was enough to convince you to take the shot.

The rest of the day Xiao found himself doing nothing but to linger. He wasn’t trapped just because you and Zhongli continued hanging by the balcony, ordering tea at one point as you continued to converse long dialogues about anything and everything, no. Xiao closes his eyes as he lays back on the roof when you’d laughed about Zhongli’s stupidity to not prepare a private fund before giving up his gnosis.

There’s no sense of urgency between you three, no threats to take care of, no duties to work on.

It’s pure coincidence that there was no trouble stirring that day, but it amped up the relaxing atmosphere he had felt.

Moments after you left to finally sleep, Zhongli found himself in the company of his adepti next to him, both staring longingly into the distance in comfortable silence. Even if they were known friends from long ago, usually there’s a strain on Xiao’s shoulder that forces him to stand straight in attention under his presence. In attention and high alert for anything his archon needs. But that’s all long gone for just this moment.

“Why hadn’t you come and join us for tea? I assure you she’s nothing but a threat nor nuisance. You’ve been lingering behind in the duration of our talk, it would have been fine if you were to just be there and properly meet her.”

Why didn’t he appear? “She’s a normal mortal, sir. Who knows what would happen if she were to spend just a second in proximity of adeptal energy.”

“I see. But you need not worry about such matters, Xiao, I wouldn’t willingly bring them here knowing it would possibly harm them.” Somehow Xiao already knew that was the case.

After that day, Xiao was hyper aware of your presence, your whereabouts, your voice.

The lightness in your steps as you bound up to the balcony with almond tofu.

The day Zhongli mentioned how this dish was used as offering to the adepti and that it was coincidentally his favorite food, you manage to bring the plate to him daily. Sometimes it’s from the Inn’s chef, sometimes it was your own creation, he would know the difference—

Yours is just a tad bit sweeter and the jelly was softer, almost bouncy. If normal almond tofu tasted like dreams, this was a good dream.

Somehow Xiao had ended up liking and yearning for your presence and antics but he still dared not pry enough to appear by you. He’s content watching over you, making sure you were safe, and ensuring that you keep your good vibe on. When Xiao ended up letting his mouth flow about this, Zhongli offered a smile and an approving nod, “They have that effect on people, I’m glad even you are cleansed like so.” With your company, somehow the thick wall between master and subordinate started thinning out in between them.

In this particular day, he felt melancholic and alone with his thoughts and memories. There were no threats to subdue and distract him, no orders (although this has ended the moment Rex Lapis became Zhongli), and no noisy kids playing around to fill in the silence.

He indulges the flute in his hand as he plays a tune from memory, the movement and wind through the instrument flows like clockwork. Around him the wind dances gracefully with the melody. Xiao too indulges himself with the serenity of it all as he finished his verse, softly gasping another breath to prepare for a new song—

A sudden high pitch note erupted from his flute when he heard the familiar jostle of a spoon against a ceramic plate.

“Oh! I’m sorry for interrupting, please continue,” your familiar voice filled with uncertainty flows over the overhang of the roof where the adepti rests on.

There was a beat of silence.

And the flute once again works it magic before you even placed your foot down to leave as to give him the privacy.

Unused to an audience, many thoughts ran through the adepti’s head as he continued to play. Distracted by the inner workings of his mind, he’d ended up playing for half an hour after that. He’d end his ministrations in a hum when he realized you were still lingering by with your back to the wall of the inn.

“That was really beautiful, thank you.” You whispered before opening your eyes, only to meet soft golden ones.

And you gasped, for it was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

And he gasped, for he’d realized you were much beautiful up close.

Xiao plays the flute and it's canon.

I believe in Xiao supremacy.

I have a bad habit of publishing works immediately right after writing them, I should space out my works. But, functioning post schedule whomst?

[ibijau]

forbidden romance gets a pt2! / on AO3

“It won't work,” Lan Xichen said with great gentleness, clearly worried about hurting Nie Huaisang's feelings.

They'd decided to meet again in that same clearing, after a few secret letters exchanged. Nie Huaisang would have preferred to only talk that way, because he trusted himself to make a person fall in love through poetry more than through his actual personality, but things had been getting... difficult at home.

So there they were again, alone in this isolated little spot of wilderness, hidden among the many shadows of a moonless night. Lan Xichen, this time, was wearing dark blue to better disappear into the night, or perhaps as a small act of rebellion against his sect. Nie Huaisang too wore dark colours, his robes those of a servant. He didn't enjoy the feeling of that rougher fabric, but there had been no choice.

Things were difficult at home.

So difficult that Nie Huaisang had taken the risk of telling Lan Xichen why he'd first tried to contact someone from Gusu Lan, all those weeks ago.

“Music can't heal him then?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“It can,” Lan Xichen corrected. “The issue is that your brother will not allow it.”

“Not if it's you, that's certain,” Nie Huaisang agreed.

He might have said that with a touch more bitterness than he should have. Lan Xichen ever so slightly flinched at the attack, though at least he didn't try to defend himself. Maybe he was feeling guilty over what had happened.

Good.

It was his fault.

“Maybe if it's your uncle who comes play for him?” Nie Huaisang suggested. “Da-ge trusts him.”

“From what you said, I don't think your brother trusts anyone anymore,” Lan Xichen replied. “I cannot blame him for it.”

“He trusts his family,” Nie Huaisang claimed with a confidence that he was far from feeling.

He'd always known that his brother trusted him. They fought and argued and disagreed and bickered, but at the end of the day they trusted each other.

They used to trust each other.

Now Nie Mingjue saw enemies everywhere, and Nie Huaisang had been forbidden to leave the Unclean Realm. For his own safety, his brother had said. And maybe he'd meant it, or maybe he'd held suspicions of some sorts. One of his brothers had just tried to kill him after all, and there were many precedents in history concerning half-brothers scheming against one another for power. Not that Nie Huaisang had ever care for power much, but he couldn't be sure Nie Mingjue remembered that.

“Da-ge has always held his sect dearer than any other leader of a great sect,” Lan Xichen agreed with a fond smile. “And perhaps... Huaisang, are there any musically inclined people among your brother's disciples?”

“No. Some of my cousins play, but very poorly. I think out of everyone in the Unclean Realm, I'm the most talented musician, and that tell you everything you need to know.”

“It does,” Lan Xichen said with a tender expression that made Nie Huaisang feel they probably meant very different things.

“I'm a very poor at it,” Nie Huaisang insisted, opening a fan to hide behind.

“I've heard you say the same thing about painting,” Lan Xichen replied. “And about poetry. I've also heard you say countless time that you never get your way with anything, only to get everyone to do exactly as you like. I think you're not always the best judge of your own abilities, Huaisang.”

That was a very low blow, especially when Lan Xichen had the guts of smiling. A real smile, that was, not the empty expression he usually had when talking to people, and which made him look like a doll, pretty and sweet but ultimately dull.

“I didn't take you for a sweet talker, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said.

“I don't take myself for one either. I haven't said anything I don't mean,” Lan Xichen insisted, before reaching out to take Nie Huaisang's hand in his.

Nie Huaisang's other hand tightened on his fan, his face burning in spite of the cold of night. Which wouldn't do at all. He was the one supposed to be seducing Lan Xichen into actually helping!

“Er-ge, I'm very glad you think so well of me, but I simply cannot...”

“Do you play the guqin?” Lan Xichen asked, and it was so rare for him to interrupt anyone that Nie Huaisang could only silently nod.

He felt a pang of regret when Lan Xichen let go of his hand. He was only missing the warmth, he told himself. Then he saw Lan Xichen produce a guqin from a qiankun pouch, and regret was soon replaced by panic.

“You're not serious,” Nie Huaisang gasped, watching as Lan Xichen carefully set the instrument on the smoothest patch of ground to be found in the clearing.

“I am very serious,” Lan Xichen replied after sitting down, making a gesture to invite Nie Huaisang to do the same. “You've said this place is isolated, and I need to hear you play to find out if you might be taught Cleansing.”

Nie Huaisang shivered at the name of that song, and glared at the guqin.

“Isn't that song a Lan secret?”

“I have previously obtained permission to teach it to an outsider to help with da-ge's poor health,” Lan Xichen said. “I believe I am still within the perimeter of what was granted to me.”

It surprised Nie Huaisang that Lan Xichen could twist the truth like that. In other circumstances, he might have been impressed. At the moment though, he was little inclined to think well of Lan Xichen.

“Considering what happened last time, I'm surprised you're sticking to that plan,” Nie Huaisang said, only to regret it when pain flashed on the other man's face.

“It would be different this time,” Lan Xichen replied, lowering his gaze, though he could not hide the slight trembling in his voice. “I know I misjudged A-Yao. Your brother was right, and I was wrong. But when it comes to you, da-ge and I have always been of a same mind. If I cannot trust you to save him, there isn't a person in the world I can trust.”

That might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said about Nie Huaisang.

It might also be the most overestimated he'd ever been in his life. Because while he would very gladly do almost anything to save his brother, as long as if didn't involved getting dirty, or physical effort, or indeed efforts of any sort at all... well, the fact still remained that Nie Huaisang had no cultivation to speak of, no friends to rely on, and no useful skill of any sorts.

And yet knowing all this, Nie Huaisang still found himself sitting down on the dirt next to that damn guqin. He closed his fan, stretched his fingers, and tried to recall one of the few melodies he'd ever bothered to learn before he'd decided that music was too much work. It had been so long, though, and instead his mind provided him with the only piece of music that had been on his mind in recent weeks.

It took a dozen notes at most for Lan Xichen to realise what Nie Huaisang had chosen to play. He stiffened and went pale, but did not order Nie Huaisang to stop. On the contrary he listened attentively through the whole piece, though at one point Nie Huaisang must have made some great mistake because Lan Xichen frowned and couldn't refrain a grimace of distaste. It only lasted a short while though, after which his expression turned more neutral again until Nie Huaisang was done playing.

“As I've said, I have very little skill,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hands on his knees. “You'll need another...”

“I assume you've never seen the score of Cleansing?” Lan Xichen asked.

“No. San-ge was always worried about me dirtying it. It made me real mad, too! I'm only a little clumsy!”

“So you just played it by ear?” Lan Xichen insisted. “I don't recall that I ever played it in your presence though.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head.

“I spied on them,” he confessed. “San-ge didn't want for me to hear him play it because he said it might have a bad effect on me, seeing as I didn't need it. But I was curious. And bored. And I don't like being told what to do.”

To his disappointment, Lan Xichen didn't smile at that little joke, and only grew more serious.

“And you played it exactly as he did?”

“As close to it as I can do with my skill. Do you... do think that was the wrong version of the song?”

“A whole passage is different,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “It's... Huaisang, are you well?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He felt like screaming, and he felt like crying.

That time he'd spied on Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue to hear Cleansing had been the very first time Jin Guangyao played the song alone for their brother. If Cleansing had already been altered back then, it meant...

Somehow, Nie Huaisang had convinced himself that the attempt on his brother's life had just been that one bad healing session. Nie Huaisang had been so fond of Jin Guangyao before this whole business, he hadn't wanted to imagine the other man could be cruel. Ruthless, yes, but he was a Jin after all so it was to be expected, and every sect engaged in a little murder here and there. But this hadn't just been murder. It had been torture. A healing song modified until it became painful to whoever heard it, until it drove them to madness, to no longer knowing friend from foe.

Suddenly, Nie Huaisang found himself a little more willing to believe some rumours he'd heard, about Jin Guangyao having served Wen Ruohan as the chief inventor of his torture playground. He'd always dismissed it as impossible, since Jin Guangyao was so sweet and soft spoken. But it took a certain kind of mind to do what Jin Guangyao had done to Nie Mingjue.

“I'm going to kill him,” Nie Huaisang hissed.

“I don't think da-ge would want for you to become a murderer,” Lan Xichen replied, ever practical and sensible.

He would have been right, once. Nie Mingjue wanted for his little brother to be stronger so he could protect himself, he'd never aimed to turn Nie Huaisang into a killer.

Now, though, nobody really knew what Nie Mingjue wanted, himself least of all.

“We'll see in time how to ensure those who harmed da-ge pay for what they've done,” Lan Xichen promised, leaning toward Nie Huaisang to put one hand on his shoulder. It felt comforting, more than it had any right to do. “For now, let's focus on healing da-ge,” Lan Xichen continued. “I was right to suspect you're a better musician than you said. I think you really can do this, with a little work. I'm going to leave that guqin with you so you can practice, and next time we meet I'll bring you the score for Cleansing so you may learn to play the true song. That will leave us only with the problem of how to get da-ge to listen to it but... I'm sure you'll find something. You've always been so good at getting him to do what you want.”

That was asking too much, Nie Huaisang thought. He was only himself. Even if he learned the score, his cultivation was too low, his brother's patience too thin. It would surely go very wrong, the way everything kept going wrong lately.

If it had been anyone else telling him he could save his brother, Nie Huaisang would have laughed to their face, or suspected them of manipulation. But Lan Xichen was the sort of person who would say nothing to avoid saying something he didn't believe in, or else he would quietly change the subject, or ask for another person's opinion, or...

Lan Xichen, as far as Nie Huaisang knew, just didn't lie.

Meaning he had to really think Nie Huaisang could do this. That he could master the guqin in just a few weeks, and also master a song that Lan Xichen himself has often described as particularly complex.

It was ridiculous, and Nie Huaisang was too realistic to have any faith in himself, but...

But perhaps it would be enough that Lan Xichen believed in him.

It made him want to make an effort to try, at least.

[mintaka14]

Here’s the final chapter of See the Light. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to @quickspinner for letting me play with your prompt.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Four – The World Has Somehow Shifted

 She was reading too much into that song. All Rose’s talk of romance and fairytales and Disney was getting to her, and sung in Luka’s gorgeous voice of course it was going to sound like…

Dammit, she was a grown woman, and she was not going to cry.              

But her vision blurred as she typed out the curt little response to Luka’s text. She didn’t dare trust herself to write more.

She should know by now that Ladybug didn’t get the happily ever after, and she didn’t get the prince. (But I don’t want a prince, the voice whispered at the back of her mind, just Luka)

The wedding dresses were done and delivered, so Marinette threw herself into making her own outfit as a distraction. If she couldn’t go to the Liberty, she could focus on gold embossed blue silk chiffon with grim determination. The results were at least pretty enough, she decided as she faced the mirror on the morning of the wedding.

The skirts drifted around her knees in a cloud of powder blue and gold filigree. She flattened her hand over the narrow gilt belt at her waist and regarded herself critically, reaching up to tuck an escaping strand of hair back into the chignon at the nape of her neck. Marinette found herself wondering if Luka would like it, and cut that train of thought off sharply. It didn’t matter what he thought, because they were simply friends, assuming they could even be that anymore. She was not doing this to the both of them all over again.

She heard Mylène’s voice at the door, and caught up the clutch purse with her disapproving kwami in it, sliding into the pale gold heels that she’d bought for the occasion. Time to go and be happy for her friends.

Marinette travelled out to the vineyard for the wedding with Ivan and Mylène, and sat with them under the trees as the harpist played and the guests gathered. The soft chatter died down, and as the music paused and swelled in the bright afternoon the brides made their way down the grassy aisle together. Rose was sunshine in blushing pink and cascades of flowers, bright as she beamed up at Juleka. And Juleka, in her darkly elegant moonlit gown, glowed.

Marinette’s eyes turned to Luka, taking his place beside Anarka. He’d managed to lose his suit coat and tie somewhere along the way, and the teal fall of his hair was a vivid splash of colour over the charcoal and cloud grey of his shirt and vest as he bent to say something quietly to his mother, his arm going around her. Luka’s head turned, and for a moment his eyes met hers.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Mylène whispered, and Marinette jerked her gaze free, managing to summon up a smile that must have been convincing enough.

It was a small wedding, but half of the guests were Couffaines, and it turned out that the Lavillants were a lot like Rose, so it wasn’t by any means a subdued or formal occasion. Marinette had never met Rose’s parents, but it was obvious where Rose got her enthusiasm from once she’d been introduced to Rose’s mother. And then there was Jagged.

He’d swooped down on Marinette in an exuberant avalanche the moment that the two brides had been whisked away for their photos, and Marinette had been left laughing and breathless. She was passed from hand to hand, and congratulated at every turn on the stunning wedding gowns.

Once or twice, she caught Luka looking her way, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart stumble, but he kept his distance. She was, she told herself, grateful for that.

Marinette caught up her pale blue and gold skirts as the breeze fluttered them around her and picked her way carefully across the grass as the entire company trekked through the gardens towards the waiting château. Luka still hadn’t come anywhere near her by the time they’d all reached the wide paved courtyard where waiters were moving around with trays of champagne and platters of elegant hors d’oeuvre waited on tables against the backdrop of old-fashioned damask roses and ivy and stone walls. She smiled and waved away the offered champagne glass, and threaded her way through the chattering guests to slip inside the doors of the huge old hall ready for the reception. Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief in the temporary silence.

The hall was a warm cavern of stone and timber, glowing in the candlelight and soft with tables full of white linen and pink roses, and Marinette tilted her head to look up into the strings of pennants and fairy lights that twinkled from the ancient rafters. She knew, without looking, that the soft footfall behind her was Luka.

“Rose’s fairytale,” she said a little wistfully. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He was looking at her. “Feeling a little bit overwhelmed?” he asked sympathetically.

“It’s just been a long day.”

For a moment, it looked like he was going to reach out to her, but he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Everyone will be coming inside soon. I’m thinking it might be a good time to go find a quiet corner to get ready for our performance,” he suggested, and Marinette let out a faint sigh.

“A quiet corner sounds like a wonderful idea.”

As she followed him out of the hall, Luka chuckled and nodded at one of the delicate pink flower arrangements. Nestled in among the roses, Marinette saw a tiny glittery black bat, and she couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s Juleka’s fairytale too,” Luka said.

The space he led her to had obviously become the designated storage area for every musician on the guest list. They picked their way through the jumble of instruments that seemed to fill the antechamber, and Luka gave a wry smile.

“Jagged’s brought in enough to start a fairly sizeable orchestra. I think things are going to get loud later on.”

He found his acoustic guitar propped behind a drumkit, and she perched on a chair while he tuned it. She found herself staring stupidly at those arms of his, and the snake tattoo that coiled down his forearm from under his rolled up shirt sleeves, wishing they were wrapped around her. It really wasn’t fair of him.

“Marinette?”

She shook herself out of her stupor.

She kept waiting for him to say something about the way she’d run off the last time he’d seen her, or to ask if she was alright. Instead, he played a quick rising scale on his guitar, and then settled into an easy little melody that was familiar enough that she could sing along with it. She was grateful for his silence as she gave most of her attention to warming her voice up, but a part of her couldn’t help wondering why he said nothing.

Marinette startled and pulled her attention back when Luka stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

He said, “It sounds like it’s just about our turn. Are you feeling ready?”

The noise was rising in the hall behind them with the sound of laughter and talk, and shoes and chairs clattering on the flagstones. Anarka’s voice rang out over the babble, commanding someone to Sit down, ye auld pirate! Marinette heard Jagged’s holler in response, and felt a sickening spike of nerves. What had possessed her to agree to this? She was going to sing in front of Jagged Stone? Marinette looked back at the hall full of people, and gave a shudder.

“What on earth was I thinking? I can’t sing! I’m going to completely choke in front of everyone and embarrass Rose and Juleka on their wedding day.”

Luka caught her hand, tugging her around gently until she was looking at him.

“I’ve got you,” he insisted, just as sincere and steady as he’d been when they were teenagers, and she took a deep breath, letting it out again. “I won’t let you fall. You’ve got this.”

“Have I?”

His answering smile was full of certainty. “You’ve done worse than this before, you can handle a handful of friends who’ll love you even if you sound like a crow. Which you don’t,” he told her with a warm laugh in his voice. “You’ve spoken on stage in front of fashion critics, you can handle anything.”

“And I wanted to throw up every time.”

“But you didn’t.”

Marinette tilted a dark look at him, and he smothered a smile.

“Okay, so you threw up. I can take a bucket on stage for you if you like.”

“It’s alright for you, Mister Rockstar,” she sniffed.

“There’s a reason I never took Jagged up on his offer to take me on tour with him,” he told her. “Although, in retrospect, a classroom full of bored fifteen year olds is a tougher audience than a stadium crowd, so maybe I should have.”

She could help the laugh that escaped, and she looked down at his hands still holding hers. Dangerous, to even consider taking the support he’d always offered her, but she kept her eyes on him and her hand in his as he caught up his guitar, and she let him lead her towards the hall.

In the end, it wasn’t hard to block out the soft rustle of people at the tables, or Rose’s excited little squeak. She didn’t even notice Jagged’s wolf-whistle, or Penny shushing him. There was Luka and his guitar and his wonderful, reassuring smile as she followed his music and sang.

His smile grew brighter as she chimed in with, “All those days, watching from the windows,” and the guitar chords rippled before her like water. It was easy when it felt like there was just Luka, here with her. Perilously easy.

She sang, “All at once, everything is different,” and she wasn’t singing for Rose and Juleka anymore. Luka’s gorgeous blue eyes were on her, only on her, as he took up the melody. Music was his truest voice, and in that moment she heard his heart as clearly as he’d ever heard hers. Marinette felt something like an electric shock, and faltered her cue.

Luka’s eyes shifted swiftly into concern, and his voice picked it up again until she’d recovered. She couldn’t be having this moment now, not in the middle of Rose and Juleka’s wedding, not on their day. Luka’s warm, husky voice wrapped around her, held her up, and as he sang “At last I see the light” Marinette knew that this was something she was never going to recover from.

The sound of applause brought her back to herself, and she broke away from the look in Luka’s eyes with a faint gasp. Somehow she managed to find the words to wish Juleka and Rose and very happy marriage, then she slid past everyone, heading a little too fast towards the door. Friends, and people she’d never met in her life, spoke to her as she passed and she offered them brief, strained smiles. She barely knew what she was saying to them, and didn’t really hear what they were saying to her.

Finally, she found herself outside in the cool and blessedly quiet night air. She could hear the sounds of the first round of music starting, and Jagged’s boisterous voice over the static wail of an electric guitar being tuned. The laughter and chatter in the ballroom behind her was muffled and felt like a whole world away. Marinette put a hand up to her overheated cheek, and was a little startled to find that she was shaking. Even after all these years, after convincing herself for so long that they were just friends, that it was fairer to him if they were just friends, that he didn’t want to be more than friends after everything she’d put him through, those steady blue eyes of his could still hit her hard.

“Marinette?” Luka said behind her, and she jolted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re going to miss the dancing,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice light. She didn’t think he was fooled. He’d always been far too good at reading her mind and heart, even when she’d been incomprehensible to herself, and that was another thing that had made him so dangerous to be around.

“They won’t even notice I’m not there for a while.” He shifted a little, close enough that she could bridge the space between them if she wanted to. “I’m here if you need me.”

He had always been there for her. That simple truth was what broke her down in the end. She felt a bubble catch in her chest, rising to force its way out with a strangled sound. She almost doubled over, gripping the ivy-covered wall beside her, and heard Luka’s quick inhalation, his hand rising towards her and falling again as she backed away.

“See, this? This is why I broke up with you when we were teenagers,” she almost sobbed at him. “You make me want to hold onto you and tell you everything, and I can’t!”

Luka was holding himself in intense stillness.

“The other relationships I’ve had, it was easy enough to walk away when things got too close, but you… It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?” Luka asked carefully.

“Doing that to you!” She was shaking now. “Having to give this up again. Why does everyone else get to have someone to love them and I don’t?!”

“You do.” He took one small, uncontrolled step towards her. “Whether we’re together or not, whoever you’re with, whatever is going on in your life, I love you. I will always care about you.”

“You need the truth, and it’s the one thing I can’t give you,” she said miserably.

Luka’s voice was so soft it was almost unspoken. “What if I already know?”

It took a moment for his words to catch up with her and sink in. The world faded into a distant buzz in her head, a cold tingle that crept over her.

Oh, that was bad. That was bad. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. She’d given up so much to keep anyone from knowing, and she could still feel the crushing backlash of what had happened when she’d made the mistake of telling her closest friend. He couldn’t know.

“Marinette?”

In the dizzying spiral of her fragmented reactions, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She stood still, and felt his hands close over hers, gently, so very gently. The contact anchored her to the moment.

“Marinette, I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

She turned her hands, palm to palm, under his hands and wove her fingers through his.

“I told Alya,” she breathed, and the quality of stillness deepened as he listened. “After you and I broke up, I was so sick of the secrets and lies, and Alya found out some things, so I told her. For three months I had someone who knew, then of course it went wrong, and now Alya has three months of patchy memories from collège that I’m not a part of. I’m still not sure how much deeper the impact to her mind went. The last time I saw her, back around the time I started at the Institut, she still had that puzzled, blank look when she looked my way because I had to take her memory of my secret identity away.”

Marinette drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“I never, ever want to do that to you,” she whispered, and Luka drew her closer, his fingers still tangled in hers. “I couldn’t bear to look into you eyes and see that blankness there.”

He was close enough that she could feel his heartbeat and the soft huff of his laugh against her hair. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Marinette? You will never see that in me. Never. You could take away every memory I have of you, and I’d still have stars in my eyes when I look at you. I’d just fall for you all over again, like I do every time we meet.”

She hiccuped on a sob, and looked up into his warm, steady blue eyes.

“If that’s what you need to do to be safe, then take them,” he told her. “I’ll happily give up those memories of knowing that you’re her if that’s what you need. It doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you.”

“It’s not just that. Have you thought, if I take away your memory of me being… her… and we still try to make us work, we’re back to all those secrets and broken dates and lies.”

“Then give me what you can. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that some truths aren’t yours to share. Just don’t lie when you can’t tell me, and I promise you I’ll understand.”

That he was willing to compromise even that for her… Oh, Luka.

“Or,” she let out the word on a soft exhale, as if testing the idea, “you know.”

And who else, when all was said and done, would she trust more than Luka with her heart and all of her secrets? Who else would she trust to keep the world safe, and everything she’d been fighting to protect?

Luka’s thumb was gently tracing the line of her palm, and the touch was calming even as her mind cleared and raced. This didn’t feel like a scared fourteen year old, alone and overwhelmed and terrified she was going to lose her best friend as well as the boy she loved. This felt like the moment when she held a lucky charm and the pieces of a plan started to come together in her mind. This felt like what she needed.

Marinette stretched up on her toes and met his lips with a kiss.

She heard the sudden hitch of his breath, and there was a moment’s hesitation that would have let her draw back, freak out, rethink, but she wasn’t holding back anymore. This time, when she kissed him, he met her halfway.

Marinette stumbled backwards into the ivy-covered wall as she tugged Luka with her and his mouth came down on hers, desperate and insistent. And oh god if he’d kissed her like this all those years ago she never would have been able to give him up.

She felt the ivy catch at her hair as he backed her up against the wall. The touch of his hand on her jaw, his fingers buried deep in the unravelling curls at the base of her neck, was bringing everything undone and Marinette tilted her head back as his mouth trailed down to the hollow of her throat.

Marinette’s hands clutched at his shirt as the weight of his thigh pressed against her, and she hitched her leg up against his hip, trying to get closer. The gutteral noise he made did unspeakable things to her and god he was ruining her as she pulled him closer, wanting him closer, wanting him. His mouth was on hers again, swallowing the sounds she was making. She could feel him, hard against her, through the layers of silk chiffon.

In the haze that he was making of her mind she was still dimly aware of the sounds of the wedding and the presence of their friends and family in the hall just beyond their deeper well of shadows against the wall, but as she pushed harder against him, the soft froth of her skirts bunching between them, Marinette didn’t care. Her hands came up to dig into the muscles of his shoulders, holding him and oh god, Luka.

White heat swept over her, blanking out her thoughts, and then they were breaking apart, breathing hard.

“Please tell me I can kiss you again,” Luka rasped. His fingers were tangled with hers, and she could feel the uneven rise and fall of his breath.

“Oh, god, yes!”

The kiss was softer this time, reverent, with the feather light brush of his lips over the corner of her mouth, and she shivered at the touch.

“Luka? Are you out here?” someone called.

Marinette blinked in the sudden wash of golden light and raucous swell of noise, and she looked up to find Rose and Juleka standing in the open doorway. Juleka had a hand over her new wife’s mouth, and Rose’s eyes were impossibly wide. She was almost vibrating, and reached up to pull Juleka’s hand away.

“Best. Wedding present. Ever!” she breathed with barely suppressed intensity, and Luka gave a soft huff of a laugh, leaning his forehead against Marinette’s. He plucked a stray ivy leaf from her hair and let it drift to the ground.

“Rose, I love you like my own sister,” he said, “and I know it’s your wedding day, but please go away.”

After Juleka managed to tug Rose away, there were a few more soft kisses in the darkness before they reluctantly returned to the wedding reception. Marinette parted from Luka for just long enough to grab her purse and disappear into the bathroom to untangle her ruined chignon and pin her hair back into some semblance of order in front of the mirror. Her dress was hopelessly crumpled, though, and her lipstick was beyond repair. Marinette found herself smiling dopily at her reflection.

“Marinette, this is bad!” a tiny voice said portentously from her purse, and it felt like a sudden dunk in cold water. Marinette slowly ran her hands down her wrinkled skirts, delaying the moment, while she thought. Finally she straightened, and turned to face her kwami.

“You’re going to have to erase his memories,” Tikki insisted.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said, ignoring Tikki’s horrified gasp, as her mind ran through the possibilities with lightning speed. “No.”

“Marinette.” Tikki’s tone was ominous. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re letting a few kisses cloud your judgement. You know –“

“Has it occurred to you,” she interrupted Tikki, “how long we’ve just been fighting everything to a standstill? You say I’m a fantastic Ladybug, but we’re no closer to getting back the butterfly miraculous than we were ten years ago. Ten years. I’ve been so caught up in just surviving from moment to moment, one battle to the next, one villain to the next, that I haven’t been able to think beyond that. I had no idea how much it was draining me until I reconnected with Juleka and Rose again, and with Luka.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you revealed your identity? Alya –“

“Luka is not Alya,” Marinette cut off the doom-laden lecture, and there was a hint of growing steel in her voice. “And I’m not a fourteen year old, new to her responsibilities, anymore. You say you trust me, so trust me. I’m feeling clearer than I have in a long, long time. For the first time in years, I actually feel like I have hope, and I will find a way to make this work.”

Luka was waiting for her when she made it back to the hall, and she barely noticed the kind and knowing grins of their friends and his family as the rest of the night passed in a haze of glitter and fairylights and music with Luka’s arms around her. Tikki was silent in her purse where she’d left it at the table. There would be serious conversations later, and the fate of Paris to talk about, but right now she didn’t care.

The speeches were finally done, the fairytale cake was a scattering of crumbs, and one of the guests had taken over the stage to sing a slow, sweet cover of Nothing Else Matters while couples danced and smaller groups laughed and talked. Luka pulled Marinette close, his hands warm on the curve of her back, and she looked up into those deep blue eyes of his.

The invitation that he whispered against her ear sent heat straight through her. Feeling a little breathless, she tried to pull herself together. They were still in the middle of the dancefloor and surrounded by people, his mother was right there, but those eyes of his were doing things to her.

“You don’t want to take a turn on stage?” she asked a little dazedly, glancing at the musicians on the tiny stage, but he was only looking at her.

His mouth curved up in a tiny smile. “There are other songs I’d rather be playing right now.”

There was only so much she could take, Marinette decided. Her hands slid down from around his neck to the lean, solid muscle of his shoulders and chest, and she enjoyed the way he reacted under her touch. She flicked a glance up at him through her lashes.

“Then take me to bed,” she told him, her voice turning low and throaty. “I want a private performance, rockstar.”

Luka made a strangled noise, and she took his hand.

In the soft darkness of his guest room on the other side of the château, when her dress slid to the floor in a shimmer of blue and gold, she heard his swift inhalation. Then it was his turn to steal her breath away and make her cry out.

Some time later in the early dark hours of the morning, when the sounds of music and loud laughter from the hall were finally starting to die down, and the newly weds had long left the party for their bridal suite, Marinette propped her chin on Luka’s bare chest and enjoyed the view. His hands moved over her back, coming up to stroke the tangled fall of dark hair from her eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in that husky voice that sent shivers through her.

Beyond the heavy damask curtains at the windows, she could see the first faint light of dawn.

“What happens now?” Marinette asked quietly. As the corners of Luka’s mouth lifted in a smile that turned a little wicked, she pouted at him. “Other than that!”

The quilt had ended up in a puddle on the floor somewhere in the night, but the sheets shifted around her as he gathered her closer and brushed a kiss against her hair.

“I think this is where we live happily ever after. Rose will disown us if we don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she said, rolling her eyes. She settled back against him again. “Although I’m not sure I remember how to do happy.”

“This looks like a pretty good place to start to me.”

Her finger traced a line around his wrist where a particular bracelet had been, once upon a time. Maybe it was time for the snake Miraculous to make a reappearance. Tikki would probably have a lot to say about that, but maybe it was time to rethink a few things. She circled his wrist again, looping back to where she’d started.

Marinette gave a sudden gasp and sat up, the sheets tumbling away from her as Luka protested. She stared down at him with wide eyes and complete disregard for her current nakedness.

“I… think I have a plan,” she told him a little breathlessly, and Luka burst out laughing.

“Of course you do.” His voice with thick with adoration and pride, and he pushed himself upright, reaching to cradle her cheek in his hand as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly until she was dazed with it. He rested his forehead against hers, and she could see that beautiful smile of his. “Some things never change.”

“But I think it’s time that some things do,” Marinette said, and kissed him back fervently with all the love in her heart.

~~~~~

Many weeks later, Sass turned from contemplating the butterfly Miraculous, finally returned to the Miracle Box where it belonged, to give the kwami of creation a smug look.

“I told you yearsss ago you ssshould have brought back my massster. Your wielder iss a brilliant Ladybug, but sshe needsss more than cold duty to truly thrive and ssshine. And the ssnake makess many thingss possssible.”

Tikki huffed and made a sour face.

“Fine, you win. You were right.”

Sass’s fangs bared in a wide grin.

“Musssic to my earsss,” he hissed, and sailed away to find a patch of sunshine to enjoy his victory. If anyone had been around to listen they might have heard the little snake humming, “At lassst they sssaw the light,” as he tucked his tail under and settled into a coil, but the kwamis were too busy celebrating Nooroo’s return to hear anything else, and on the couch, Marinette and Luka were lost in their own little world of tangled hands and lingering kisses. Whatever Luka was saying in a husky undertone to Marinette had brought a rising blush to her cheeks and a bright smile to her face.

They were happy.

In that moment, everyone was happy.

And that, Sass reflected with immense satisfaction, was exactly as it should be.

[fyeah-bangtan7]

SUGA: “This is the only thing I know how to really do”

On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

© source

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Eda's Requiem" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...

...

...HOW IS SEASON TWO SO GOOD?! WE'VE HAD SEVEN EPISODES SO FAR, AND EACH ONE OF THEM WAS A HIT!

Take "Eda's Requiem," for example. It's yet another episode where I have NOTHING bad to say about it! That's two weeks in a row where that happened! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

HOW!

HOW!

...But anyways, "Eda's Requiem." It's another fantastic episode, and I'm about to dive into explaining how and why. Just keep in mind, it's gonna require spoilers to do so, so be wary of that as you keep reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Eda’s Checklist and Grom Photo: Within the first second, "Eda's Requiem" perfectly sets up Eda's central conflict in the episode. Despite spending years being on her own and looking after herself, she now has two kids that she's constantly caring over. Eda can try all she wants to say that she doesn't care, and I bet she has in the past. But given the hard work she's putting into getting King and Luz what they need and having a grom photo of the three of them together pinned in her mirror, it's pretty clear that those two knuckleheads wormed their way into her heart and are never getting out.

Eda’s Worried About King and Luz Leaving: And thus, that's precisely why something like this bothers her so much. Eda inadvertently adopted two rambunctious rapscallions (Yeah, I know. I'll get to it), so the idea of them not being around her anymore is going to be terrifying. That is a situation most parents, especially mothers, can identify with. It’s called empty nest syndrome and it proves just how much Eda loves Luz and King that she can't stand the thought of her babies leaving the nest. It's yet another well-made, wholesome, found-family moment that this series continues to excel at each week, making me extra excited for more like it to come...while also readying myself for heartbreak when one of them eventually does leave Eda.

Eda and Raine’s Music: Ok, I don't know the exact instruments that were played during this episode, but I also don't care because it was all (for lack of a better term) music to my ears. Every time Eda and Raine played resulted in melodies that are so beautiful and filled with so much emotion and feeling that I'm honestly tempted to listen to them again, multiple times, on repeat. Shows rarely do that for me, as background music doesn't always draw me in as much as lyrical songs do. Usually, it takes something so extraordinarily composed to give me the desire to listen again, and that's the case here. So huge congrats to Brad Breek for doing so. Seriously, the man's been killing it this season.

Eda’s Bard Magic Causing Things to Turn to Ash: This was assuredly a surprise side-effect of the curse. The fact that Eda can sort of do magic at all was its own shock. To then reveal that a specific type can do dangerous things to people and environments is...Well, it definitely brings up its own fair share of questions. Like, how can she do this? Will she do it again, one day? And are there other types of spells that can be negatively affected by Eda's curse? We don't get answers for any of these questions, and odds are, we never will. But that's alright with me. Because if a show makes me consider these many possibilities after a brief amount of time, it is a show that has to be doing something right. Even if I don't get the answers I want, the fact that it caused such a reaction makes me less willing to care.

Raine Whispers: Hey, would you look at that. Another fun, interesting, and compelling character added to the list of this shows' other fun, interesting, and compelling characters...how is this series so good at this!?

Joking aside, Raine's pretty good. I like Raine. They could have been this super serious leader who lost all their fun after years apart from Eda, but I'm glad that they're not. There are moments when Raine takes their job as leader of the BATs seriously, as one would, but I still prefer the fact that they kept a jovial nature despite how grim their situation is. It's an admirable trait to have, and it avoids the trope of making leader characters boring just because they're the ones who have to take things seriously.

Oh, and also, Raine's Disney's first non-binary character who has a stake in the plot. This is a tremendous deal, as you don't usually see that many non-binary characters in children's animation, let alone ones that hold importance to the story. So it's pretty cool for the writers to feature Raine, as it helps several kids feel as though they're finally seen and respected. And the fact that Disney of all companies gave the thumbs up is even more impressive. I hear people say that Dana Terrace should have pitched The Owl House to more progressive networks to avoid pushback, and while I absolutely see your point, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Disney is the largest entertainment industry of all time, so if you want to make LGBTQA+ representation normalized, you gotta stop making splashes and start making waves. Because if the same company that made three racist cats in the span of a few years manages to say that being gay is a-ok, then you know there's something wrong with you. Yes, Disney ended up screwing over the show anyway. But for that one moment, when kids felt pride after seeing a character like Raine, then, in the end, it's kind of worth it.

Also, if you're still having issues with more representation like this popping up in kids' shows, then allow me to redirect you to the complaint department.

...I made that post earlier today for this bit. YOU HAVE BETTER APPRECIATED IT!

Day of Unity is meant to be a Secret: At least, that's what I got when Raine stumbled over their own words. So if it's true, then I wonder why? Why does Belos want to keep the most critical change in the Boiling Isles a secret? Does he want to make it a surprise for his grateful subjects, or does he not want to spread worry and fear amongst the wild witches? It has to be something big if he doesn't want his followers to even say the words "Day of Unity." Whatever reason he has, we most likely won't know until the future. A future that I grow more and more afraid of each week.

Hooty Eating Echo Mouse: My heart sank in that brief moment when I thought that Hooty intensely screwed Luz over in getting back home. But looking back...it is pretty funny.

Just the suddenness of Hooty eating the poor creature that Luz desperately tried to earn its trust is priceless in how shocking it was. And also, Luz's expression.

That was the look of a young girl who immediately shoved her hand down an owl demon's throat the second the scene cut away. The Owl House may not always be a hit in the comedy department, but scenes like this prove that when it's funny, it is hilarious.

Luz and King Entering the Grand Prix: Not much to discuss here. It's just a cute subplot that adds frivolity to the intensity of what's going on through Eda and Raine's story. But I will say that I love how both stories occasionally interconnect with each other through the many moments of Eda being worried about King wanting to leave to find his father and avoiding any conversation about it. It helps both plotlines feel like they belong together, without being something like "Through the Looking Glass Ruins," whereas both stories could have been in their own episode. Which is neat.

How Bard Magic Works: I really love how this season is diving into how the other magic types work. More specifically, the ones that seem a little vague. I mean, stuff like healing, potions, and plants are easy to figure out, but what does it mean when a witch's talents are construction, beast keeping, and bard magic? We've been getting a lot of clearing up lately, with bard magic looking like a witch can control their environments and enemies through the power of music. Which is fair. Music is pretty powerful in the metaphorical sense, and I actually love that it's powerful in the literal sense when in the Boiling Isles.

The BATs: Not much to comment on these three either. The BATs have the potential to have an entertaining dynamic, but they do very little in this episode that I can't say much other than I hope they make a return in the future. But I will make this claim: Amber is my favorite. I'm sorry, but her screaming "You're not our mom!" to then go, "Bye, mommy Eda" is just too precious for me not to love.

I'm a simple man who falls for cute s**t. Leave me alone.

Raeda (RainexEda): Well, EdaxCamila, you were a fun crack ship while it lasted, but I'm afraid that this is now goodbye. The current canon has provided an incredibly adorable and believable relationship that I would be a monster not to support with my whole bi-heart. It's been real.

Ok, back in serious mode: I love these two together. Eda and Raine are grown-ups, and they still act all flustered near each other as if they were still Luz and Amity's age. It's definitive proof that you're never too old to get flustered near a crush, and seeing them interact adds a sense of wholesomeness when seeing them together as well as heartbreak when they're forced apart. Plus, we get confirmation that Eda's LGBTQA+! Whether she's bi, pan, or whatever, now that we know Eda can catch feelings for someone like Raine, it's yet another case that The Owl House is the most important series to the community. Because having the main character be queer is fantastic in its own right. But having the same apply to the motherly mentor figure? That's is an extra bit of normalization that anybody would be willing to appreciate.

Unique Guard Designs: Not many fans are going to appreciate this, primarily compared to everything else this episode does perfectly. For me, I actually like that you see a few Coven Guards looking differently from the others, as it helps make them less like clones and makes it seem like anybody of any body type could be a part of the coven.

Gus Looking Uninterested when Presenting Grand Prix with his Dad: I am positive that you didn't notice this (I didn't even notice it until someone else pointed it out), but there's something to dissect here. It hints that perhaps Gus isn't as interested in his father's field of work as one might think. If he did, he would look a lot less bored and much more excited to be helping Perry Porter present the race. It could just be the race itself, but judging from Gus' expression, it really seems like the kid would prefer to be anywhere but there. And why would he have that reaction to a race that his best friend is competing in? To me, this seems like an inkling of what Gus' relationship with Perry could be, which may not actually get time to shine, what with how little wiggle room the series has now (Thanks Disney). Regardless, it is interesting to notice, and it will certainly have fans thinking for a while.

Bump Being Smug of Luz Being in the Lead: That's it. Principal Bump looking smug as his human student is beating the students of his rivals is yet another moment that proves why Bump is easily the best cartoon principal.

Darius: First of all, this guy is f**king fabulous, and I love him. *Snaps*

Second, he is definitive proof that you do NOT want to f**k around with Coven Leaders. Lilith may have had her intimidating moments, but none of them compare to the guy who can turn himself into an abomination monster where only magic that hasn't existed before can take him down. It's genuinely scary to see Darius lose control, and I fear for the day when Luz inevitably ends up in his crosshairs.

With that said, Darius' still a ton of fun! He may be threatening, but he's just a flamboyant guy that hates the idea of getting his outfit the tiniest bit dirty. And I love that. I love that these Coven Heads have actual personalities instead of being generically evil. I consider it preferable to make villains entertaining rather than blatantly scary as I'll remember the personalities first and the villainous acts last.

Eberwolf: But this one's my favorite. I told you: I'm a simple man who gets easily swayed by cute s**t. And Eber? I mean, just look at her:

She's just a cute widdle rascal! I just want to pinch her cheeks, give her a belly rub, and--

...Eberwolf is not a cute widdle rascal. She is a strong, independent woman, and I will respect her as such from this moment forward...lest I feel her wrath.

That is all. Let's move on.

Eda and Raine Attempting a Final Performance: This was the best scene of the episode. It looked gorgeous, it shows the dedication Eda and Raine have for stopping Belos, and it says so much through so little. Go back and look at how Eda and Raine regard one another when performing Eda's requiem. Through their expressions and a few short words, you know they understand that if they complete the song/spell, they probably won't make it in the end. And yet, they don't care. They both know bad stuff will happen if Belos wins, so Eda and Raine put everything to the side, both their feelings for one another and the people they leave behind if it means putting an end to a tyrant. That level of dedication...Words can't fully describe how powerful that is.

Raine Sacrificing Themselves Instead: But in the end, Raine can't do it. Not when they know the life that Eda has and the people she'll be leaving behind. It's an extra bit of nobleness to the character seeing that Raine refuses to take away a woman from two kids who need her the most. A tad bit selfish, sure, knowing what Belos has planned. But when it comes to love, the romantic, familial, or platonic, the best decisions aren't always the logical ones.

Eda Crying: Luz crying tears me up, but seeing Eda cry is a whole different level of heartbreak. Like Lilith, Eda has her emotions locked up tight, with the closest she came to weeping were those two tears in "Young Blood, Old Souls." In "Eda's Requiem," she cries but almost quickly stops herself. As if she knows that doing so isn't going to save Raine. That is...even worse than seeing Luz break down after losing Eda. The fact that Eda refuses to give herself time to mourn losing someone she loved is tragic because crying is the most natural way of showing grief. Turning that off isn't healthy, and seeing her do it with little resistance is sad to me. It's sad to see a character I love can easily shut off all emotions despite how badly she may want to embrace them. It's one of those moments that, again, by doing so little, it shows so much.

“No one watches Crystal Balls anymore. It’s all about streaming.”: Oof. Even I felt that burn towards cable.

King’s Message: King's message was the pick-me-up I needed after the heart-wrenching sadness this episode put me through a few minutes ago. Seeing King say who he is and listing all the things he loves is nothing short of adorable. On top of that, I adore that Eda willingly recorded the whole thing. She may not want King to leave, but that doesn't mean she'll sabotage the one thing he wants. Especially not after Raine gave up everything so Eda could be with her kids. The opening scene may prove how much Eda cares about a rascal like King, but this heartwarmingly sweet moment reveals just how far she'll go to make him happy.

King’s Dad Reveal: ...ok, I'll be honest, I did not think we'd get that reveal this soon. Dumb of me to say, considering the number of times I've said that these writers don't waste time getting to the s**t, I know. But still, it's pretty cool knowing that King's dad is alive and well, added with the fact that we've got a fair idea of what he looks like. At this point, it's only a matter of time before we see him figure out where the Clawthorne residence is and witness the tear-jerking moments that will follow.

King Changing his Name to King Clawthorne: Not the official adoption I was expecting Eda to make...but DANG IT, is it still diabetes-inducing levels of sweetness!

Personally, I feel like the main reason why Eda breaks down this time is not only because she shouldn't be worried about King leaving her life, but also because Raine's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her kids really do need Eda because no matter how far apart they'll be, she will always be a part of their life...dang it, I'm going to cry too!

What those Coven patches really do: Well...that was horrifying to see.

...Writers, if you kill off the best non-binary character in animation (it's a short list, I know), we are going to have PROBLEMS!

IN CONCLUSION

"Eda's Requiem" is--surprise surprise--another A+. The emotions hit hard, the representation hits harder, Raine is a fantastic addition to the cast, and it was all surprisingly cute at times. Season Two is currently on a hot streak, constantly winning with every episode that's come out so far. When a bad episode does eventually show up (IT'S GONNA HAPPEN!), I'll be sure to sing my requiem then. For now, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride.

[subbing-for-clones]

Stranded Part 2

Savage Opress x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death and decomposition, mental illness, fear terror and FLUFF

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       Savage's eyes fluttered open to the sun shining brightly through the trans-durasteel panes that decorated the walls seemingly without rhyme or reason. The little one was frying some kind of thin meat strips on the stove and sipping hot caf. Without turning her head, she called over to him.

"How ya feeling?"

"Not great but better."

She turned and strode over to him, still laying down.

"I couldn't do this yesterday but I can today."

"What do you mean..?"

    She placed her hands on his bare broad chest and closed her eyes. A warm tingling sensation wafted over him. It felt like sunshine, utter joy and flying all at once. When she pulled away her eyes were a little fuzzy.

"It takes a lot of energy but you can transfer your life force to something and heal it. I was kinda low yesterday," she turned matter-of-factly back to the stove.

    Savage had only ever had painful experiences when it came to using the force or having it used on him. He hadn't ever thought of it as anything other than a weapon. He wanted to ask about it but shy away from the topic. Instead, he stood and stretched. He didn't have an ounce of pain. This woman who found him once again amazed him.

While the two unlikely pair ate their breakfast, her eyes didn't leave him, slightly squinting.

"You haven't been like this very long?"

"No. I was altered by the witches of my home world."

"Huh. Did you ask for this?" truly curious she stopped eating.

"No." she cocked a brow at his response, waiting for an elaboration.

"My species is subservient to our women. We live separately and go through deadly trials to be chosen by one for breeding or whatever they want really." He continued eating as the information he provided was simply normal for him.

"Was this..." she waved her hand at his body. "For breeding?" his cheeks slightly tinged in a deeper gold.

"No. I was chosen to act as a weapon for one of the sisters. She abandoned me when I didn't live up to the expectation." the woman noted as his eyes darkened. Wanting to change his mood she lightened up.

"Well, I'm happy you're here Savage. You have much to learn in the ways of the force.. you're strong but your energy is incredibly dark but you... you do not feel that way....." she trailed off in thought and muttered, "certainly an enigma. Very interesting," she tapped her finger against her chin.

    Savage's heart fluttered. He had never received any kind of praise from a female before and he didn't really know how to process it. His flush only deepened when she once again undressed in his line of sight, slipping on a shorter, loose grey dress.

"When you've finished, dress and meet me outside,” she skipped out the door and shouted something unintelligible into the trees.

    Savage silently hoped she wasn't completely insane while he quickly washed the dishes for her. He pulled on his pants and his long black kilt. Remembering that she had cut off his shirt for a sling he huffed and left the tattered remnant. When he came out, he saw what could've been a scene in a holovid. She stood with under a ray of sunlight, skin shimmering in the glow with a bright smile gracing her face. Her hands were pressed to the forehead of a green Varactyl while a dozen small song birds of every color fluttered around her.

"I think I should call you 'princess,'" he stepped forward cautiously.

She giggled melodiously.

"Mira here won't hurt you I promise. You think I look like a princess?" she flushed and batted her eyelashes.

"More than anyone else I've ever seen."

She extended her hand out to Savage.

"Come here," she cooed. He slowly made his way to her and took her hand. It was soft and warm, she held it for just a moment, running her thumb over his knuckles.

"Do not be afraid. Mira is a friend," she placed his hand where hers was just a minute ago on the Varactyl's head.

"Close your eyes and reach out to her with the force. Gently."

    He stood there for a minute before he felt anything. All of a sudden it felt like wind was rushing around him. He could see trees flying past him and a breeze danced against his skin. He leapt from trees, gliding through the air.

    She watched with satisfaction as his and Mira's eyes were closed and their breathing synced slowly. She felt their signatures meld for a moment. Savage pulled his hand away and looked at her wide eyed but grinning. Mira chirped happily beside him.

"Good, you made the connection. Rather quickly I might add. Mira is a receptive one. Very friendly. She's been with me a couple years now."

"I...I felt what she feels when she hunts," he was smiling at the creature fondly.

"Yes, that seems to be a favorite time for her."

"That felt much different than any other time I've used the force.... was that the light side?"

"I'm sure the Jedi would say yes but I am no Jedi. I don't see the force as light or dark."

Savage looked confused. Everyone called the force light or dark. The woman continued,

"Take a knife for example. In the wrong hands... a knife can take an innocent life, used to rob someone or threaten them other ways. However, in the 'right' hands it can be used as a medical instrument, carve wood or simply chop produce. I think of the force in the same way. The intent is what matters to me. Did you want to hurt Mira when you reached out to her?"

"No..no I didn’t," he stammered.

"That’s why it felt different."

    Savage understood what you were saying and turned back to Mira. The animal nudged him gently with her head affectionately.

"Let's go for a ride. I wanna finish stripping the ships you landed on. I haven't been to those ones yet. If you have anything else there, now’s a good time to get it."

    The woman strapped large bags onto the sides of the Varactyl. She hopped up onto Mira's back and once again extended her hand out to Savage. He climbed up and took his seat behind her. When Mira lurched forward, he gripped the woman's waist tightly so he wouldn't fall off and she laughed.

"Hold on tight handsome it's not a long ride but it's a turbulent one."

"A-alright princess."

      The added weight did nothing to slow Mira down. She was light on her feet and graceful. Leaping high into the air and gliding back down into the canopy. Princess whooped and cried out in excitement whereas Savage just held her tighter. His chest swelled with the rush. He was terrified but also having fun. He was a little disappointed when it ended and the ships were in sight. He slid off first and held his hands out for the princess. She beamed down at him and let Savage lift her by her waist with her hands on his shoulders. Her breath hitched when he pulled her down to him to set her on the grass underfoot. Quickly turning away to hide the heat rushing to her face.

"Alright, anything you wanna take, toss it in the bags. I'm gonna look through some of the others.”

    They parted. Savage always traveled light so he didn't have much to take with him. Some extra med gear and clothes, that was it. He hesitated in the cockpit looking down at the talisman that Mother Talzin gave him. It lay in pieces. He exhaled a silent apology, acknowledging that he probably wouldn't find his brother anytime soon. He slipped the pieces gently into his pocket and made his way out. After securing his few belongs in the saddle bag on Mira, he turned around to look for the princess. He could sense her nearby but couldn't see where she was.

"SAVAGE!"

He ran back to the hazardous pile of crashed ships.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

He sighed relieved when she popped out behind his transport smiling ear to ear. His heart still pounding.

"It’s not huge but there's a Kriffing cargo ship buried under your transport and a fighter. Help me lift them. Cargos are gold mines."

    She stood shoulder to shoulder with him; well, shoulder to rib. Both of their arms were raised. It was shaky at first but they managed to move Savage’s large transport off to the side with the force. The fighter was much easier to shift. She grabbed his wrist and cried out excitedly, pulling him along to the sealed door.

"Could you cut it open with your saber?"

He smiled as she watched him ignite his saber and cut through the thick durasteel.

"Yes! Cutitopencutitopencutitopen!" she chanted excitedly and squealed.

Once he kicked the obstacle out of their way she shrieked and dove practically head first inside. When he entered, he was hit with the heavy scent of death. Four Weequay bodies lay scattered and half rotted around the cargo bay. Savage covered his nose with a disgusted look on his face.

The woman however didn't seem bothered by it as she sifted through the containers.

"This was a pirate ship... I haven't seen many of those," her whole top half was inside a rather large container while she spoke.

"Usually lots of credits, jewelry, spice.... not really useful to us right now but if we ever make it out of here, we'll be rich." He made his way to the sleeping quarters and took the standard med gear and hygiene supplies that was fairly standard to each room.

    When he came out, he found her pleasantly surprised as she held up some lovely dresses in bright colors to her form.

"I think I can tailor these to fit..." more thinking out loud than actually talking to him. She walked deeper, into the cockpit and tried to fire up the engine to no avail. She didn't have hope, it looked like they nose-dived into the ground anyway. She sighed and checked the common area.

    Rations, some cook ware in better shape than hers was, liquor... other odds and ends that would be decently useful. Savage found her holding a Sabacc deck.

"Do you know how to play?" She asked coyly?

"Yeah... some of the other nightbrothers taught me when I was a pup. Do you?" She shook her head.

"Well, I'll show you. We can play together." Her face lit up and something warmed in his chest that he'd never felt before. He pointed his thumb back towards the cargo bay.

"I found something you might be interested in.." she followed him; arms full. He fiddled with a small electronic box and powered it up.

"It won't connect to the net out here but it looks like there are some downloaded holovids,” he turned back to face her. She had dropped everything she was carrying and stared at him in amazement.

"I...I've never seen a holo-player out here before," he smirked.

"Well princess if you can charge it, we can see what's on it."

    The two of them loaded up what they had onto Mira. Princess did a thorough once over of the other ships. Finding a blaster with a decent amount of charges was the second best find next to the holo-player. They found a few sewing kits, more rations and med kits, and some crop seeds which also excited her.

They had ended up spending much longer than she wanted to searching through the wreckage. The sun was starting to set and it was falling fast.

"We need to get going. It gets dangerous at night... things come out.." she shifted uncomfortably on her feet looking up into the trees. Mira let out a quiet warning chirp. Savage lifted her up and put her on the Varactyl's back, climbing up behind her. This time when he held her waist it was more protective.

"I think I can sense them... what are they?"

Mira took off but it was slower, more cautious than when they came here to begin with.

"I don't know.. I've never seen them clearly. I know they have two arms, and three long sharp claws. Their hide is tough and... very rough. No fur.."

    Savage held his saber in one hand, not yet igniting it. He could see in the dark but these creatures still hid. The sky was a deep, dusty blue as dusk swallowed the atmosphere. It felt different at night. Like the air was hungry.

"I will keep you safe," he said as his eyes darted around. Once they broke the tree line it was only a short distance to the cabin. They unhooked the bags from Mira and she dashed behind the house up the barren hills, as far away from the forest as she could get. Savage and princess walked into the house.

"I've never seen them leave the forest. They've never come out of the trees into the clearing so the house and the yard are safe as well as the hot springs and hills behind us. Savage nodded in understanding.

"Stay here," his voice rumbled, "I'll fetch wood for the fire."

    She nodded before he left with his weapon in hand. Princess started putting away their various findings and set some rations out on the table. They were going to have to go hunting again tomorrow. She felt his shift in the force. Fear had a particularly unique wavelength. She took the blaster and right before could get to the door he kicked it open with his arms filled with wood. He hurried inside, dropped the wood and latched the lock. His face was blanched.

"Are you alright?" she asked slowly reaching for him.

"They just stood there. Behind the trees. Watching."

"You have night vision?"

He nodded and looked down at her.

"I... I’ve never seen anything like them. So.. gangly. Tall and.." he shuddered and shook his head, controlling himself. If she lived here for so long it was safe but when he turned back to face her, she had regressed.

"Beasts in the trees....." she still stood but her eyes were blown, her arms crossed over her chest; trembling.

"Beasts in the trees...." she repeated

He quickly gathered her up in his arms and sat on the bed. Her terror radiating off of her. He shushed her softly and rocked gently. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up to his.

"Come back to me princess," he whispered soothingly.

"It’s alright, you're safe. I will keep you safe. I've cut down bigger and scarier things in my life. My planet has a rancor infestation. I have you. It's alright," he continued to whisper and hold her until she came down. She splayed her hand on his chest over his hearts. Their strong beat acting as an anchor. She buried her face in his neck. Her breath hot on his skin.

That warm feeling pooled in his chest again. He ran his fingers across her forehead, swishing away the hair that had fallen over it. She finally pulled away to look into his eyes.

"T-thank you Savage... I don't know how much longer I could've lasted alone out here. I feel like I'm breaking as soon as the sun goes down." He thought about his next words carefully as he stroked her cheek.

"My people live in darkness. I have lived with and fought against its terrors all of my life. I swear to you I am strong enough to keep you from harm. Today I found myself... almost glad to have crashed here. Because of you, and what you can show me. But, mostly you princess," his face was hot. She pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"We should eat. You especially. I imagine you're starving. The rations aren't bad with the hot sauce I found," she smiled coyly at him.

    They ate in a comfortable silence. This time he watched as she slipped off her dress out of the corner of his eye. A feeling of want tingling under the surface. When they crawled in bed together, she wrapped her leg around him and lay her head on his chest. Listening to his hearts beat while he held her close to him.

She stayed like that all night and for the first time in years, she slept through the night.

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

Toshiya Personal Interview Special Headbang Vol.27 Translation 1/2

The upcoming new chapter of the bassist who established himself while evolving his playing style in the middle of fierce battles he experienced overseas “We want to challenge both, our activities and songs, while constantly incorporating what seems new to us. Right now, once again, we want to try it with the feeling that Dir en grey can do anything”

Notes before reading: This is the personal interview of Toshiya from the magazine  Headbang Vol.27 released on 18th August. Toshiya’s interview is the last one after Kaoru and Die.The interview is 11 pages long, this part covers the first 5 and a half. You can read the second part here. You can buy the magazine at Amazon Japan or CDJapan Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts. ------ “For example, when we were making the album “DUM SPIRO SPERO”, the Great East Japan earthquake (March 11, 2011) happened. I remember clearly that our mood was ‘Is it ok to play music now?’. But this time, with this Corona situation, unlike that time, on the contrary I feel positively the only thing we can do now is music”  Text by Hiroko Goto The last featured member is bassist Toshiya, boasting a magnificent presence while sustaining the base of the sound. Placing “Ochita koto no aru sora” as a new chapter when they started the production, he talked about the “past, present and future” of the band  which can be a very important content to know the present position of Dir en grey. Also, he approaches his roots, which he has never talked about very positively so far, in a “Albums that inspired you” interview that starts with the story of the encounter with the band GUNS N' ROSES,  taking a look at the style of DEFTONES and KORN with whom they went on tour together as an example while he reiterates his own style, making it a interview in which you can see exactly his real image. “We wanted to think about what we could do until the last minute. At first, we didn’t think about simply postponing it” -Looking back, because of Corona, the tour scheduled for March “Tour20 Sogai” and the PIA Arena MM final performance "THE INSULATED WORLD"-THE SCREAMS OF ALIENATION-" scheduled for July have been cancelled. Toshiya: Right. -Thinking about your past activities, it’s like the flow of the ’The insulated world'（2018）is completed at this point. That’s the image I’m getting. First of all, when you were getting ready for the “Sogai” tour, what kind of thoughts did you have about it? T: 'The insulated world' tour had been done quite a few times until last year, so I was thinking about the set list changes for this “Sogai” tour.  So, as I thought it would be interesting because there would be new elements, I was very disappointed because we couldn't tour. -Rather than a continuation of the tour from the last year, were you looking ahead of the album? T: “Sogai” is also a tour of the album but, when I thought about the final Pia Arena performance, I imagine it as a concert that would connect with that. -Does that mean the Pia Arena performance was the culmination of 'The insulated world'? T: Yes, I think that idea was there. -After all, it was a shock that it had to be cancelled due to the current circumstances. T: For me too. If you ask me if it was a shock, at some point, it was. But it couldn’t be helped as we couldn’t do it. I had no choice but to put my feelings behind and move on. Rather than that, the biggest problem was wondering what we could do for the fans who were looking forward to it.  That’s why we wanted to think hard about what we could do until the last minute. At first, we didn’t think about simply postponing it, on the contrary, we were thinking how we could make it possible (the performances) but after all, as expected, in the end it was difficult. -In that sense, you did a live without audience, ‘The world you live in’, on the day when there was originally a live concert in March. In May, you did a live stream ’Dir en grey audio live stream 5 days' with setlist planned by members and broadcasted a talk ’Dir en grey live archive & Special talk’ . I think you were moving forward in many positive ways. Did the members propose any idea about what moves you wanted to make? T: Yes. How could I say it?.... In this situation, on the other hand, we thought there were quite a few things we could do only now, we tried to think in that direction. As there are things we couldn’t do anymore, what should we do now, so the idea of ‘what things could we do in the current situation?’ came up. -For you personally, during the period of the voluntary lockdown (Japan’s declaration of emergency state), did you have that mentality? T: That’s it…. I guess I didn't feel much  the impact of being in that situation in my private life . I don't usually go out so much (laughs) To be honest, my daily life didn’t change. -(Laughs) T: It was very disappointing that my plan of going on tour and eating delicious food all over Japan was gone (laughs) I was like…. “But I was thinking of eating delicious food, drinking delicious sake, and doing my best at the concerts”. “It was fun. If you talk seriously as usually, it won’t be interesting” - Actually, how did you feel about the voluntary lockdown (stay-at-home)? T: The tour was cancelled, and after all, I was making songs and within limitations, there were many things to do. As I was doing those things, I felt like I was always at home. So, if you ask me if my routine changed much, it didn’t. -In the broadcasting of the set list and the live streaming of the talks among the members, there was a feeling of being closer with the members than the Dir en grey we had seen until now. T: I was very concious about that, so thank you for telling me that. That’s why we made the talks like that, I thought people would enjoy it more if we show the parts that we don’t usually show. -In the talk, I got the impression that you were relaxed while having a drink. T: (Laughs) That’s true. - Were you conscious of that feeling of naturalness/raw feeling ? Were you trying to create it? T: Hahaha. It was fun. Well, I did it like because I thought if you talk seriously as usually, it won’t be interesting.  For things like that (serious), it’s better to use properly the power of the media and magazines. -Twitter was really excited about it, I enjoyed it too. T: Thank you (laughs) -Also, at the time you announced the release of a single ‘Ochita koto no aru sora’. Was this single originally scheduled to be announced at this timing? T: Since last year more or less, it was decided it would be released around that time. Originally, as it felt like we weren’t going to play it during the “Sogai” tour, we started working on it at the beginning of the year. But this time, I was able to spend a significant amount of time due to the Corona situation, so I think as a result I was able to concentrate on it very much. - So, was there any aspect of your recording style that was influenced by corona? T: The recording style is always done member by member, so it doesn't change. I didn't have any particular influence because until preproduction, the work was done in each member’s home and recording was done one by one, so there was no particular impact.  As it didn’t feel like when we are in the middle of a tour or between rehearsals, rather, I felt that I could dedicate the whole time to it. - The previous single was a magnificent song called "The world of Mercy", which was a continuation of "The Insulated World" and had the image of the final chapter of the album. What were the expectations for the new single? T: It was discussed between the member which type of song it would be, if it was going to be an upper (upbeat) song or a downer one with calm feelings. There were about 4 candidate songs, so doing them, this was the one that worked the best for us. - The feeling is that it is the next image of "The world of Mercy" or is it in the direction of something completely new? T: Personally, it felt like something new. As I said earlier, I personally think that "The World of Mercy" is the final chapter of "The Insulated World". -The world of "The Insulated World" has being going around for a long time, so from there, did you imagine switching to a new feeling immediately? T: I try to imagine it every time but after all it is still vague, and I don’t know. After finishing “Ochita koto no aru sora”, and as result of its final shape,  there was a response to those questions but during the process of making it,  I was worried about how it was going to land. -From previous two choices, the upper/upbeat song was selected. T: That’s right. Only because there was a sensation that it fits nicely. “Unlike that time, we felt like ‘we can only do music now’”. -In terms of playing, as a bassist, what position were you dealing with? T: Basically, unison* is the main one. While playing the same phrase as the guitar, I had the feeling that it would be good if I could play in order to stand out at every important point of the song. That's the position I've taking in recent songs. *Unison: It’s the simultaneous playing of a note (or a series of notes constituting a melody) by different instruments. -It's a song that feels like a beginning, but still has a certain amount of 'The Insulated World' energy. Looking back at the album 'The Insulated World', what kind of album was for you? T: When we released the previous album "ARCHE" (2014), I had an image of the band returning to the origin, I think the album for taking a new step from there was ‘The insulated world'. After all if a band continues, it may be like going around in circles,  a similar circle may come around but, there was also a feeling that the band had regained a fresh feeling and was taking a new step. -During the tours of the album, was there an actual feeling that you could certainly take the new step you just mentioned? T: There is, there is. That's why I think there is enthusiasm for the next single. -Furthermore, when it comes to timing, it’s running in parallel with the Corona virus disaster. Did that affect you? T: That’s right. We were making it while the world was in a situation like that. As one would expect, it's something that really impresses you. For example, when we were making the album “DUM SPIRO SPERO”, the Great East Japan earthquake (March 11, 2011) happened. I remember clearly the mood was ‘Is it ok to play music now?’. But this time, with this Corona situation, unlike that time, on the contrary I feel positively the only thing we can do now is music. We can’t go anywhere, weird stories around, we have nothing to do. So, when we asked ourselves what we could do, as the response was “music”, there was a moment  we thought positively “well, let’s make music”. -Also, for the coupling side, a reconstructed version of "CLEVER SLEAZOID" with Japanese lyrics was recorded. T: This was during the European tour, while talking about what to do with the coupling song, we narrowed it down to a few songs and we actually decided to try to do it at the time of the rehearsal. We made a rough framework of how it would be. At that rehearsal, when we were sitting silently, it felt like all the members decided to do it. -Rather than the reconstructed songs you have done so far, it’s an arrangement that uses the original song as it is very well. T: When we were matching it at rehearsal, we were trying out to change the rhythm a bit. As a result, the tempo was a bit faster than the original song. It was refined with the arrangements. Certainly, we used to change the arrangement quite a lot, but recently, our mode is that we don't change it that much and we take a slightly softer approach. -The simplicity of using the current sound of the band. I feel that mode as you can put the song out as it is. T: I can’t explain how that happens in that mode, because we do it in an intuitive way. Also, since this song has originally English lyrics, it’s seems like he wanted to sing it properly in Japanese. -That’s something big. How did you feel when you heard this song with Japanese lyrics? T: Mmm…. His (Kyo’s) lyrics and melody are an instrument in my mind. Everything feels like an instrument that once is put all together, it’s called a “song”. That’s why, whether it's Japanese or English lyrics, it may not change much. -I see. Also, at that time, this song was released as a single at that time, after the album 'Withering to Death' (2005), when it was a time when you were moving into a new phase. In that sense, I think it could be said that it was the same mode as you are now. T: Certainly, at that time, it was when we started to think about overseas as a band. Now that you have mention it, it’s not the same thing that we’ve talked before but, there is a feeling of bouncing around from one place to the next. “At that time, there was a moment where we wanted to somehow to leave claw marks of a band called DIR EN GREY” -You would say that the band is about to change? T: That’s right. I think there are some parts that are about to change. When we first released ‘Clever Sleazoid’, in ourselves as well, there was a feeling of ‘Let’s spread our work at overseas!’, I think it was a turning point that was about to change everything. So, now ‘The Insulated World’ was released, and we are trying to get to the next phase, so in that way, it’s connected. Well, there is a feeling of trying to find our new weapon in order to fight something. - Comparing how you were at that time and how you are now, have you changed your way of thinking/mindset? T: To be honest, the way of thinking is completely different (laughs) At that time, we had a strong feeling of going to overseas.  In order to go overseas, there was a feeling in ‘Clever Sleazoid’ and the songs around that time,  like we wanted to compose music with a conscientiousness of overseas music. In that sense, I think there was a moment in which we were very conscious of overseas. Right now, we are constantly playing overseas, but on the contrary, the idea of ‘What activities should we go based on overseas?’ is no longer there. It’s not because of overseas, it’s not because of Japan…. the way we are doing it from now on is  what we want to deliver to the people. -In other words, you were in a more glaring moment? T:  That’s right. More than glaring, at that time, there was a moment where we wanted to somehow to leave claw marks of a band called DIR EN GREY. I think that feeling was something that only could appear at that time, it was something that it only could be done at that time. Now, I think that there are several ways to do it (laughs) - Certainly, I've been watching your live performances in recent years, and instead of standing somewhere, it’s feels like your stance is making use of your originality. It seems that it has become a natural thing for the band without forcing or changing anything. T: That’s true. That’s why when it became a circular thing that you catch a hold of it, as a band that it’s in a mature point, I think the important point is  what we can release or not. - Even as the start of a new chapter, I think it will be a great time for those who have been waiting for it. I’m looking forward to the reactions of the new single. T: That’s right. Also, this time, it’s the first time we are releasing a single in this way, so I wonder how is going to feel. It's a little wait-and-see. (Second part here)

[cloudshapedpatch]

Bells and Whistles

Happy Holidays @ghostlyhamburger, I’m your Lovesquare Obsessed Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this very indulgent soulmate au 💚🌸

* * * *

Music. It’s all around, and yet, it never gets old. How? How does an arrangement of notes and sounds create wonderful music capable of bringing deep joy and sadness?

Everyone knows people love music. Archeologists always seem to be finding older and simpler instruments used by early humankind. People just love to create their own sounds, if not for their own enjoyment, or perhaps to attempt to share the songs in their heads with others.

For Marinette, it was no different than everyone else. Her song. The leitmotif that seemed to always play in her head. And she could not get it to be quiet. Just once, she wished to take a school test and be able to focus on her paper, and not the wispy bells meant only for her own ears.

It was a nice melody, and the universe had made it just for her (and for her soulmate, but she wasn’t too concerned with this fact at the moment). She never grew tired of it, thank kwami, but it also meant she could never go very long without hearing it. And how the universe loved to play the tune in the least convenient times.

30 chimes of bells.

What is the circumference of a circle that has a diameter of 8 inches?

30 chimes of bells.

What’s 8 times pi?

30 damned chimes of bells.

Marinette let her head drop onto her desk, letting the lone bells play out a couple more times. She only resumed her math test once it seemed it was done.

Thus was a normal occurrence for most people. It still annoyed her.

Her teacher gave Marinette a sympathetic look as she handed in her completed test, bells still ringing in her head.

“Why don’t you just go look for your soulmate?” Alya had suggested one night as they watched a movie.  

“I don’t wanna rush it.” Marinette had lied a little too easily for her liking.  

“You know if you do, your tune will get beautifuller and—”

“And I’ll get to control when I hear it, yeah yeah.” Marinette tossed a few unpopped popcorn kernels at Alya, a wide smile on her face. “And beautifuller isn’t a word.”

“Whatever!” Alya had laughed then, a really joyous, belly-shaking laugh. As they continued to watch their movie, Marinette could tell Alya was playing her own symphony in her head (she always smiled like the biggest love-sick goofball).

Alya was among the lucky few who found her soulmate quite young. It always brought a smile to Marinette’s face when the young couple spoke of the day they realized. Although, Marinette always had to swallow her pride because she couldn’t let anyone know she was the one who had locked them in that fateful zoo cage.

Speaking of, Alya was leading Marinette out of the classroom, saying something about the test, but Marinette didn’t hear her. She was too busy with her own thoughts about songs and soulmates.

Surprisingly, Nino was the first to notice Marinette’s dazed state. His ‘You good?’ was accompanied with a familiar smile; the one that told her she had missed everything he had said.

Marinette blinked her thoughts away. “Yeah! Yeah, just thinking. What’s up?”

“Alya and I were saying we were gonna play UMS 3 at my house, wanna come make it a tournament?”

Marinette’s sudden perfect posture didn’t go unnoticed by either of the other teens. “Sorry, I have some family things tonight. You know how Thursdays are…”

“Right!” Alya punctuated the word with a snap. “Thursdays are family nights. Funny, Adrien said the same thing.”

Nino got an elbow to his side for snickering at Marinette’s blush, but it couldn’t be helped. They bade goodbye and went their separate ways.

The chilly December air stung her heated cheeks, eliciting a breath of thanks that she lived close to the school. In truth, Marinette’s family didn’t have family nights. Thursdays were allotted for Chat Noir’s visits.

He came every Thursday, without fail, at 9pm sharp. Why? No one had any clue. Her parents always cooked for four those nights to be sure he had food (They learned early on he didn’t get much to eat. This concerned Marinette deeply, not only as his partner but also as his soulmate). She supposed the saying was true, ‘feed a cat once and they will return’. He hadn’t stopped visiting ever since she offered him a cookie one otherwise-normal Thursday night about 4 months ago.

Tonight was no different. He knocked on her balcony window at 9 o’clock on the dot, he came down and ate his plate of food, and Marinette beat him at video games with her parents.

It was only when they had gone back up to her attic room that the night turned south.

Chat was hovering over her shoulder as she sketched a dress, excitedly giving her suggestions. Sometimes they were good, other times… not (memories of the awful purple and orange clown jumper threatened to surface).

Marinette had started to hum whilst she drew. Chat was playing with her hair and whispering encouragement, and all was well.

“Whatcha humming?” He murmured, barely audible above the sound of pencil on paper.

“Hm?” His hands had frozen in her hair, the lack of movement causing a lull in her train of thought. She blinked hard as if to will her thoughts back. “Oh, just a little tune. Should I put a flower or a bow here?”

“A bow, for sure.”

As she sketched the bow on the dress’ bodice, she hummed a little louder for Chat to hear.

And he hummed the last few notes with her.

Before she could comprehend how he knew the tune, she could hear a piano in her head, playing a sweet little harmony with jazzy drums. The familiar sound of ethereal bells played the melody she knew too well. It felt as if she were surrounded by a thousand magical whistles, carrying her up and away to the clouds. And based on the look in Chat’s eyes as he spun her chair to look at her, he was hearing it too.

Damn it.

She would have gotten emotional if she wasn’t filled with terror. Finding your soulmate was supposed to be an important event in one’s life. For Marinette, now it was another secret under her hat.

He was whispering her name, eyes sparkling and the most endearing smile on his face and why is he looking at me like that? say something, anything! to get him to stop!

“Wow it’s late, time flies, you know?” She cringed at her abnormally high voice, playing off the flinch as a yawn. “I should go to bed, haha.”

Her cheeks twitched with the effort to keep the fake smile as he just stood there, staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

And then she was in his arms as he carried her up to bed, eyes large and kind. He  set her down gently before giving a two-finger salute and jumping through her balcony window. She felt the mattress bounce slightly from his weight. Too late, she registered his parting words to her, goodnight princess.

With a pillow secured to her face, she screamed.

“Marinette! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tikki. Just overwhelmed.” She threw the pillow down onto her knees.

“You don’t look fine.”

Neither did Tikki, if Marinette was being honest. She looked just as worried as she felt.

“I just… the ladybug and black cat miraculous are always soulmates, so I wanted Chat’s soulmate to be Ladybug, not Marinette. That makes sense, right?”

“Yes! And it was a great idea, but the universe has its own plans, and you can’t override them.”

“I know! It’s just that— I was planning— I didn’t want Marinette to be associated with Chat Noir. It’s too risky! What if people connect the dots? What if— oh no, Tikki! What if Plagg told Chat Noir about the soulmates? What if Chat Noir knows I’m Ladybug?!”

“Deep breaths, Marinette. It’s gonna be okay! I really don’t think Plagg would have told him, he’s really not fond of romance, he thinks it’s mushy.”

Marinette took a few moments to focus on her breathing, but Tikki’s unsure face didn’t calm her nerves any.

“I can go talk to Plagg if you want. And if Chat Noir really does know who you are, then we can work it all out! You make the rules now Marinette, you don’t have to choose a new partner unless you want to.”

The thought of her identity being known made her sick, but she tried to sleep anyway. A night of good rest would help her think more clearly, right?

She couldn’t help but let the song play out a few times more before she finally dozed off, only for it to echo in her sleep.

* * * *

If Marinette had been paying attention, she would have seen Adrien hovering nearby like the confused, enamoured puppy that he was. She would have noticed his lingering gaze, his soft smile. She would have noticed his internal debate over whether to say hello.

(Everyone else noticed; everyone except the object of his affections.)

Alas, she was too preoccupied with her increasing anxiety. She wasn’t sure when Tikki had left her purse, but she had checked ten minutes ago only to find she was missing. Her foot tapped at the floor at irregular intervals, matching the beat of the song in her heart (Jazz was the worst possible genre to pace her life, but then again, when was she ever regularly spaced?).

She played the whistling song in her head once more, too tired to fight her smile. She could have a much worse soulmate, that was for sure. Who wouldn’t want a sweet, considerate, objectively handsome if she really let herself think about it—

A nudge against her side let her know Tikki had phased into her purse. Almost too hastily, she excused herself to the washroom.

“So? What’s the verdict? I haven’t been able to focus all day!” She whispered, having been too anxious to wait for the door to close behind her.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette.”

Another wave of anxiety. Marinette took a shaky breath in. “What do you mean?”

Tikki’s little hands wrung each other dry as she spoke. “There was a miscommunication between Plagg and Chat Noir, and he knows you’re Ladybug now.”

Her charge slid to the floor by the sinks before her feet could give out completely. He knew? How could this have happened?

She fought the urge to cover her face and cringe. What now?

The door pushed in, Alya successfully interrupting her thoughts.

“Marinette! You okay?”

“Yeah!” Faster than a zip of her yo-yo, her hands flew to the hem of her pink jeans. “Just re-cuffing my jeans. What’s up?”

Alya gave Marinette a quirky sort-of look before shaking her head in amusement. “Miss Bustier wanted me to come get you. We’re starting the holiday party!”

“Let’s get going then!” Marinette locked arms with Alya as they walked out. If neither girl talked about the odd scene, perhaps they would both forget.

The party went well, the shiny menorah and shamash reflecting the small tree’s lights in dazzling patterns on the walls. The atmosphere was pleasant, the treats shared were delicious, and their White Elephant gift exchange went very well. The stuffed dinosaur she made ended up with Rose, and Marinette gratefully accepted a new oversized hat from Nino.

Adrien had caught her eyes a few times too many for her own comfort. It felt almost wrong to be thinking only of her partner while searching Adrien’s eyes for hidden meaning. She took his warm gaze and soft smile with a grain of salt, then turned her mind away to think of Chat Noir’s soft, affectionate gaze and his broad, warm smile that never failed to make her grin in return. For some reason, Adrien’s smile made Marinette want to listen to Chat’s song.

All too soon, the party came to a close. She bade her goodbyes, wished her friends a happy holiday break, and started to walk home in the early minutes of dusk. A fun day of sweet treats and party games left her heart warm and content. The soft tinkling of street lamps illuminating all around her brought a small spread of euphoria in her chest. Shadows danced in the corners of her eyes, drawing her gaze up to the rooftops, where her favorite pair of inhuman green eyes peered back at her. Chat leapt across the buildings in front of her, just enough to stop and look back for a moment as she walked.

Her stomach churned as they locked eyes. Feet glued to the pavement, she stared up at him, waiting for him to… well, she wasn't sure what she was waiting for. He was just looking at her, perched up four stories above her, head tilted.

Oh, she thought belatedly, he wants to talk.  

With a small burst of resolution, she gave him a smile before willing her feet to move towards her house. By now the sun had set and the sky was gradually turning dark, a deep ocean encouraging her escape. As much as she longed to fall into the stars and float away, she also found herself giddy with excitement.

Their shared symphony played in her head as she opened the door to her home and excused herself upstairs, the melody almost unbidden, but she knew in her heart she had been longing to allow herself to enjoy it again.

Although, feeling ready for the next chapter of life was different than turning the page itself. There was sure to be shaky hands and stuttered words, confusion and maybe a little more bittersweet than she’d like, but, little did she know, there was going to be acceptance, overpowering emotions, tears, and many long hugs (and perhaps a few kisses), but that was life.

Besides, with her soulmate and partner by her side, she could do anything.

* * * *

* * * *

Also! I may have gotten a little carried away and composed the leitmotif and the soulmate song as well~! You can listen to it here  :)

[fishoutofcamelot]

Yves Montand's les feuilles mortes is Merwen as Gwen ages and becomes old, memories flitting in and out of her consciousness as Merlin tends to her last moments on her death bed, her hand caressing his cheek as she says the final goodbye. Merlin clutches into her hand tight, his shoulders tremored as he sobs, losing his last friend and lover.

Dude it’s MY job to make people sad about Merwen! If you keep this up, I’ll be out of a job!!! And I can’t afford that in this tragic fandom economy.

Ngl tho, you’re absolutely right about the vibes. Although if I might add, I also kinda get a reincarnation vibe from it too.

The scene: France, 1947. WWII is finally over. Merlin, or Michon Epinette as he goes by now, is walking down a wet cobblestone street. His face is sullen. As he walks, hands stuffed into his pockets and head bowed, flashbacks are interjected into his mind. Brief snippets of his time in Camelot - meeting Arthur, hanging out with the knights, saving the kingdom. But above all, his time with Gwen. All the memories and laughs and tears they shared together. 

The flashbacks increase in frequency the further along he comes, only now they’re all focusing on Arthur’s death, Leon and Gaius and Percival’s deaths, until only Merlin and Gwen remain. Until Gwen ages and dies too, until Merlin is left weeping over her dead body. But in none of the memories do any of their faces appear. The faces and appearances of his loved ones are just some of the many things he’s forgotten after all these years, much to his distress.

Merlin shakes his head to force the memories away, and enters a bar. It’s pretty empty. Everyone is fairly quiet aside from the clanking of glasses and occasional murmurs here and there - and on the stage, a slow, morose jazz performance.

He sits down at the bar and gets a drink, watching the performance and trying not to cry over how deeply the mournful lyrics speak to him. It’s the 1400-year anniversary of Gwen’s death, and it stings just as intensely now as it did back then.

The woman singing wears a yellow dress that is elegant yet simple, back exposed and black gloves deftly holding the microphone. Her own eyes are tearful, she herself affected by her own lyrics - Les Feuilles Mortes, now that he thinks about it - and if not for some impressive self-control then her elaborate makeup might have been running.

But looking at her face, her dark, gentle face and deep brown eyes, a most profound sense of deja vu settles into his gut. As if he should know her somehow. 

But Merlin has lived for many, many years, and has met many, many people. If he’s met her before, he doesn’t remember, and likely never will. And besides, it was probably nothing important.

Still, the clenching of his heart pulls him to her. As if something terrible will happen, as if he’ll suffer a loss worse than he can ever imagine, if he doesn’t hold her in his arms this very moment.

Instead of sweeping her up and never letting go, Merlin waits for the song to end, politely applauds, and then greets her as she sits down at the bar stool next to him. Another performer walks onto the stage in her place.

They speak in French as she asks if she’s seen him before, a puzzled look creasing her features. He says that he’s just got one of those faces, and reaches out his hand to shake hers. He introduces himself using his current alias, Michon Epinette, but his ribcage screams at him to tell the truth. To tell her that his name is Merlin. He ignores the impulse.

She calls herself Guinevere Laurent, and oh how his heart aches at the familiarity of it. Another Guinevere, just as kind and soft as his own had once been. He commends her performance, admits that it had made him cry, and she tells him it has that effect on people - especially those who have recently suffered a loss. 

Ms. Laurent asks him who he’s lost, then gets flustered as she apologizes for being so forward. He instead tells her that he lost a great deal of friends. Everyone he’s ever known and loved is dead now.

“The war?” she surmises.

“Yes,” he says, because while they’re not thinking about the same war it’s still true.

She sips from her cocktail glass. “I lost a great deal of friends to the war as well. My brother Elouan, my best friend Lazare, and my father Thomas. Normandy, all of them.”

He shrugs. “If they had to die at war, at least it was Normandy.” Then, flustering - “Oh no, I’m so sorry! That was so insensitive of me. I didn’t mean -”

Ms. Laurent - Guinevere - shakes her head. “It’s fine. You’re right, though. Normandy is...heroic. As good a place to die as any. I just...I just wish they hadn’t had to die in the first place.”

Merlin has nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t. And the two of them sit there at the bar counter, nursing their cocktails - which are, coincidentally, the exact same - and ruminate over their respective losses. Guinevere Laurent is likely thinking about the second world war, and Merlin is thinking about Camlann. And both of them are thinking about after. What happens next. Where they go from here, when everyone they care about is six feet under.

While the similarity in names is likely a coincidence, Merlin can’t help but feel drawn to this Guinevere too. She speaks and acts and feels so much like the one he lost that his chest burns with sorrow. But also, perhaps, with something else too. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

Merlin ventures out his broken heart and cracks a joke, trying to lighten her spirits. For the life of him, he will never be able to remember what the joke is, but it does its job in making a tentative smile splash onto her face. 

Warily, with an uneven and rough voice, she murmurs out a joke of her own. He won’t ever be able to remember that one, either, but he laughs just as quietly and genuinely as she did.

After an hour their laughter has transformed into something loud and unending, and it fills up the entire bar with an orange, jovial mood. Other people are talking amongst themselves with more liveliness than they had before, and now Merlin and Guinevere are not the only people smiling in here. Even the scrunched-faced bartender is cracking a grin.

It feels familiar. It feels like he’s been in this situation before - laughing with someone as loudly as possible to chase away their mutual pains, until their desperation turns into sincerity and sincerity into passion. 

For one glorious evening, Merlin allows himself to exist in a fantasy world where Gwen isn’t dead, but sitting right next to him. It’s weird and wrong, for sure, but he can’t help pretending that Guinevere Laurent and Guinevere Pendragon are the same person.

The crowd raucously, drunkenly cries out to Guinevere for an encore, begging her to give them another song. She shakes her head and says she’s done for the night, and all her songs are too sad anyway, but the crowd remains insistent. 

Merlin nudges her shoulder with his own. “You can do this, Gwen.”

And for some reason, just locking eyes with him is enough for her to acquiesce.

She dusts off her dress and reluctantly shuffles onto the stage once more, and the current performer steps aside to let her have the microphone.

Guinevere discusses something with the people manning the instruments, and after a moment they appear to reach an agreement of some kind. 

As the music swells to life, she casts one final glance at Merlin. He nods encouragingly, and she nods back, then closes her eyes and begins.

“Je suis seul ce soir,” she sings in a soulful cadence.

He loses himself in the music, lets the medieval nostalgia consume him like a snake devouring a field mouse - and just as the snake’s venom strikes the mouse, so too does a heartbreaking realization strike Merlin.

He called her Gwen. He referred to Guinevere Laurent as Gwen, his Gwen.

But she’s not. She’s not his Gwen.

His Gwen is dead, and she’s not coming back.

Suddenly, the whole world flares harshly at him. The lights are too modern and bright, the music is too loud and lively, the crowd is too busy and young. And Guinevere Laurent stands on the stage, eyes closed as she sings from the heart. 

And it’s not Gwen. It’s not Gwen, it’s not Gwen, it’s not Gwen, and the reminder of this truth is a slap to the face. Gwen didn’t dress like that, didn’t speak that language, didn’t sing in French bars or drink cheap cocktails. 

Gwen died. She died in pain, and she died gasping for air, and she died pushing him away in fear because her senile mind could not recall who he was. She died afraid, surrounded by faces and places she didn’t recognize, tearfully asking for a brother who had been dead for decades.

But even despite with all the differences, Guinevere Laurent looks so horribly similar to Gwen, back when she was young and innocent. The similarities, the memories, are enough to shatter whatever shaky pieces of his heart he had managed to cobble together.

Merlin presses a trembling fist to his mouth as tears pierce their way through his eyes, clouding his vision and sapping his body of any resolve it might have had. 

He fumbles out of the bar to get away from it all, lest the agony bubble out of him like blood. The cold air stings his cheeks, but the bitterness of it provides a momentary distraction from the memories left behind in the bar.

Determined to find some other hole-in-the-wall at which to drink and forget forget forget, Merlin stumbles away, not even bothering to wipe away the curtain of tears shuttering his face.

But back in the bar, Guinevere Laurent begins to remember things. As the melody holds up her heart, as the fondness that ‘Michon’ had born within her chest lifts her ever higher, flashes of a distant life spark in her mind. 

A boy with an impish grin, stuck in the stocks but still shaking her hand. A young man with a colourful scarf, sitting on a hill and braiding flowers into her hair. A friend, back pressed to hers as they both hold swords and fight to defend their kingdom. A companion, holding her wrinkled hands and helping her get up the stairs.

The name whispers into her mind. Merlin.

But as the final notes of Seule Ce Soir  rumble to an end, as Guinevere opens her eyes in the hopes of soaking in the rays of her old friend’s presence, she finds no sign of Michon - Merlin - and instead a vacancy in his place. 

Thanks for the ask! <3

[bastardtetsu]

{day 13} falling slowly | semi x reader

pairing: semi eita x gn!musician!reader

genre: angst, mutual pining or unrequited love depending on how you look at it

wc: 1.8k

warnings: a little swearing, reader who plays piano/sings, mention of a previous relationship, unresolved feelings, just a lot of pain

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

falling slowly eyes that know me and i can’t go back

—falling slowly; once (music & lyrics by glen hansard & marketa irglova, book by enda walsh)

“that song you just played— did you write that?”

you stood there, wide-eyed, staring him down as he turned to walk away from the spot where he had just been busking on the sidewalk. semi wanted to ignore you, but your resolute gaze already had a vice grip on him.

“yeah,” he grunted reluctantly.

“it’s very good.”

“thanks.”

despite his gruffness, you were still staring at him like your life depended on it. it was kinda unnerving.

“why’d you leave your guitar?” you questioned him with a sense of urgency, gesturing to the guitar semi had left in its case on the sidewalk. his expression hardened.

“i don’t want it anymore,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

“you should take it. those things are expensive, you know.”

“fine,” he grumbled, shooting you a glare as he stooped to grab the case by the handle, “i’ll sell it if it makes you feel better.”

“i know a shop!” you blurted out, “a music shop. where you can sell your guitar. i was just on my way there, actually!”

“…seriously?”

“it must be fate!”

those words made him cringe back then.

as the two of you entered the store, a cozy place packed with various instruments, you wasted no time making a beeline for the back of the store, dragging a confused semi along with you.

“where are we going? i thought we were here to sell my guitar,” he questioned.

“just follow me,” you insist. the determination in your voice told him there was no point in resisting.

you continued leading him through the shop, all the way to an old upright piano that sat towards the back. “the owner lets me play this whenever i come in,” you explained, your merciless gaze now fixed on the instrument, “it’s a beautiful piano. if i ever win the lottery, this is the first thing i’m buying.”

semi just watched you quietly as you stood there, marveling at it. he was able to appreciate the intensity of your stare more now that he wasn’t the subject of it - the way your eyes glimmered was actually kind of entrancing.

“so what would you like to hear?” you questioned, suddenly turning your gaze back on him as you sat yourself on the bench, “bach? mozart? something of my own?”

“oh, uh— whatever you want,” he muttered. there was clearly no use stopping you at this point, so he might as well comply.

you positioned yourself and began playing. it was a somber melody, gentle but distinctly melancholic. your concentration remained unbroken as your fingers danced gracefully across the keys, until the final mournful note echoed through the empty store.

“did you write that?” semi asked, a bit awestruck by your talent.

“no. felix mendelssohn did.”

“ah.”

“now you play me one,” you demand, eyes aglow.

“wh—no,” semi faltered.

“please,” you begged.

“no,” he stated firmly, his expression hardening again, “i just came here to get rid of my guitar.”

“what do you mean?” you protested, “your music is good, why are you giving up on it?” semi cringed at the sting of your question.

“there’s no point anymore,” he snapped, “it’s gotten me nowhere.”

“what, so you’re quitting ‘cause you’re not famous?”

“i’m not—“ he scoffed defensively, “you wanna play your songs for people who want to listen.”

“well i’m people,” you stated, your gaze on him more unyielding than ever, “and i want to listen. now play me a song.”

the rigidity of your stare was almost enough to convince him.

“no.”

however, just as semi turned to leave, as if by some sort of drama-induced miracle, a sheet of folded paper fell from his coat pocket, which you wasted no time snatching up before he could even grab at it.

“hey—“ he protested, “give it back, come on.”

“music is dead to you, right?” you taunted, “so isn’t this trash?”

“you know what,” he huffed, his patience at its limit, “fuck it—yeah, keep it. it was nice meeting you.”

“hey!” you barked right as he was turning to leave. his head spun around to find your eyes staring him down with the most intensity and desperation he’d seen from you all day. “you won’t die if you play this song with me,” you spoke to him sincerely, “please.”

he didn’t answer, but remained frozen where he stood, unwilling to break from your acute gaze as you lowered yourself onto the bench and placed your fingers on the keys.

you perused the slightly crumpled page while semi waited with nervous anticipation, reminding himself to breathe as you began to play the notes he had scrawled onto the staff.

as your fingers began to recreate the familiar motif with impressive precision, he gingerly picked up his guitar from its case by the piano, looping the strap over his head as he started to sing,

“i don’t know you but i want you all the more for that”

he sang tentatively at first, the words and notes like scratches upon an unhealed scab, until your voiced chimed in with a harmony,

“and words fall through me and always fool me and i can’t react”

semi began to strum at his guitar, more self-assured as the gentle tune continued, your voices and instruments moulding together as the music swelled into chorus after chorus. his reluctant voice became more and more powerful with each changing chord, each strum of his guitar more intentional as the sounds intermingled with yours, creating new discoveries within a painfully familiar refrain.

as the tempo slowed to a quiet halt, your eyes met with his again until you played the final chord in unison. you both stood there in silence for a moment, as if you were waiting for the final sound waves to finish reverberating, dissolving into the air.

“so where is she?” your question broke the silence.

“where’s who?”

“the girl in the song,” you clarified, “is she dead??”

“what—no, jesus,” semi sputtered, caught off guard for what must be the 75th time today.

“so where is she?” your gaze is on him again, adamant as ever.

“she left,” he uttered, his dejection covered by his brusque tone, “about six months ago. there was nothing else for her here, so—”

“so you still love her?”

semi’s face twitched, feeling his chest tighten at the question.

“no. we’re finished,” he stated shortly.

“no one who writes a song like that is finished,” you enunciated firmly, causing his breath to catch. “if you sing this to her, i bet she’ll take you back.”

“huh?” the ash blond’s face twisted into a confused scowl.

“i’m serious.” the gleam in your eye only affirmed your statement.

“no way,” he replied, “i’m not running after some woman who’s doing fine without me just so i can sing her some stupid—“

“it’s not stupid!” you nearly yelled at him before softening a bit, maintaining your resolute stare. “your songs are good,” you stated emphatically. semi felt his breath catch again, this time accompanied by a rush of warmth to his face. “do you have more??”

-

your heart nearly stops when you see it, breath catching in your throat as the sting of tears begins to prick your eyes.

the old upright piano you had spotted one day in a music store now sits in your living room, a large, bright red ribbon adorning its shiny wooden surface. there is no note, but you need no indication to know who it’s from.

he must be long gone now. he got a call from his ex practically begging him to come back, so of course he went. it doesn’t matter how many longing glances you caught as you helped him rehearse, or how much electricity you felt surge through your body every time you so much as brushed his hand while reaching for some sheet music.

he has unfinished business. you’ve both always known that, it’s why you tried so hard to keep your distance, even as you helped him produce a studio album, relentlessly encouraging him not only to keep pursuing music, but to keep pursuing her. it’s what he deserves. it’s not your place.

it doesn’t matter how much your heart wanted to leap out of your chest when his stern grey eyes stared into yours, uncharacteristically earnest, as he squeezed your hands in his and thanked you for changing his life. he was talking about the music. you’ve only ever talked about the music.

it doesn’t matter that no matter how hard you tried to maintain your distance - god, you really tried - his songs always pulled you back in. those songs aren’t about you. he wrote those for someone else, someone who he is destined to go back to.

it doesn’t matter that every time he played one he felt a shift, like discovering a new harmony, each lyric twisting into a different meaning. that somewhere along the way, he started singing them about you — you can’t think about that. it can’t be about that.

it doesn’t even matter that he said you were a part of his new life, starry-eyed and nearly breathless, imploring you with to run away with him and start a band together, make an album, just the two of you and all your beautiful music. it was just a silly fantasy. one can only entertain such a delusion for so long before you have to move on with your real life again.

as you lower yourself onto the piano bench, you imagine yourself back in the shop on that day, the ash-blonde musician you had just met scowling dubiously as you began to play the opening of one of his songs. you can almost hear the delicate strains of his guitar as he plucked the accompaniment on the strings, his voice growing stronger as he sang.

“and games that never amount to more than they’re meant will play themselves out”

you recall sitting with him at the top of a hill just outside of town one night, looking down at the warm lights of the city twinkling in the distant. he told you about the first time he ever felt scared. you told him you only saw him as a friend. could he tell you were lying?

“take this sinking boat and point it home we’ve still got time“

tears begin to well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you play. but you don’t even need to see the keys, because you know this song too well. it’s engraved in your muscle memory. no matter how hard you try, your body will remember.

“raise your hopeful voice you have a choice you’ve made it now”

“call your girl tonight,” you reminded him as you left the recording studio for the last time. he asked you to come over to his place later, but you’re not going. you know better than that.

“falling slowly sing your melody i’ll sing it loud”

the tears are falling freely now, wetting your hands and the keys, but you continue playing as if semi were right there singing along with you, creating sweet harmonies and stirring chords together, losing yourselves in the music.

you allow the song to engulf you, the melody washing over you like a wave of pure feeling as you bid goodbye to the man you fell unwillingly, irreparably in love with.

a/n: i’m not normally an angst person, or a huge semi simp really, but i still ended up hurting my own feelings with this lmao. i’d probably let semi ruin my life as much as he wants too, let’s be real. the songs linked at the top are definitely required listening for this one (the first link is them together in the music shop, the second one is the reprise at the end) and if you really wanna experience pain, find a bootleg of the show & watch the whole thing bc i truly struggled trying not to shove the entire musical into this one fic (once again if u need help finding it i may or may not have a link if u dm me)

taglist: @izagraceee​ @musicgetsmeoutofbed​ @azo-musxas​ @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

[waiting4inspiration]

The Melody (Sigurd x Satyr!Reader)

Summary: Sigurd goes to the woods to play in oud in peace, but his music attracts a creature he’s never seen before. 

Warnings: fluff, a bit short, I haven’t written for Sigurd in a loooong time, mythical creatures

Word Count: 1,904

7K Mythical Creatures Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

The only place Sigurd can go to play his oud in peace is the woods. There, he won’t be annoyed by Ivar, teased by him, or anything like that. He’d be in complete silence and alone. Sometimes, that’s the best thing. 

When he finds a place, a small clearing in the forest where he can situate himself on a fallen log. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure he’s alone as he pulls out the instrument he brought with him, he looks down at the strings and bites his lip as he thinks about which song he should play. 

Thinking he’ll start with a simple song to warm his fingers up. And as he strums and picks the strings, he’s unaware that his melody is heard by something else in the woods. 

You hear the music while searching for fruits to eat, the sound making your ears perk up and turn to find the direction it’s coming from. Turning your head over your shoulder in the direction you hear it, you feel a small smile growing on your face as you slowly place the basket of fruits you’ve collected on the ground. 

You wish to follow the sound, but it is dangerous. You know what lives outside the woods, you know humans would not react to your appearance as they would to their own kind. Still, the serene melody makes you take one small step forward with you hooved foot. With the other, you push the fruit-filled basket under the bush to hide it from any other animals that might wish to steal your breakfast from you. 

With timid steps, you follow the music, smiling when it changes to something more joyous. And before you know it, you’re standing a few feet away from the oud player, the one making the music. The human. 

Your eyes glance down to his legs when his foot starts tapping a beat. A normal foot, unlike yours. Glancing down at them, you shift in your spot and end up making the bush behind you rustle. That, in turn, makes the music stop and your head snaps up, your eyes meeting those of the music player. 

His eyes grow wide at the sight of someone standing in the distance, and his mouth falls when he stares at your legs. Goat legs. 

Your appearance isn’t appealing, you know that. All you have to cover yourself is a shirt you found discarded a long time ago and a piece of cloth you use to wrap around your waist so it hangs over the top half of your legs like a skirt. But it’s not enough to hide the brown-furred legs you were born with. 

And you’ve made no attempt to hide the horns growing out the top of your head or the non-human ears that helped you find him. 

His stare makes you take a step back, but he quickly stands to his feet and places the oud to the side on the log. “I won’t hurt you,” he gently says as he holds up his hands in defeat, to show you he means you no harm. 

Still, you take another step backward and steady yourself on your hooves, your movement making the man’s eyes drop to your legs again. Meanwhile, your eyes move over to the instrument you saw him holding and frown. How could such a thing make such a beautiful sound? 

He catches you staring at the oud, turns to look back at it before picking it up again. “You heard me playing?” he softly asks, holding out the instrument to entice you to come closer. 

And it works. 

Nodding your head to answer his question, your eyes fall from his face to the strings. They remind you of spiderwebs and you wonder if they feel the same. He must have such a delicate touch if he does not break the strings when he plays this instrument. 

“I didn’t think anyone would be here,” he whispers, his eyes not caught on your face after following the path of your horns there. 

You simply glance up at him through your eyelashes as you stand in front of him. Then, you look down at the instrument again, your hand slowly reaching out to touch it. You know it’s wood and you know the touch of wood very well. But the feeling of it being smooth, how you imagine water to feel like if your hand didn’t plunge into it when you reach out for it, makes a bright smile grow on your face. 

“Do you know how to play the oud?” he asks, still not knowing if you even understand him. 

He watches your fingers move to the strings, a laugh leaving you lips when you touch it makes his eyes snap up to your face and a smile grows on his lips. 

The strings are definitely not made of spiderwebs and you laugh at your silly thoughts that it could have been. “You play,” you whisper, taking him by surprise and making his heart skip a small beat. 

As you lift your head and your eyes up to him, you notice the slit in his one eyes, how the black doesn’t form a circle like the other, how you’ve seen yours be like in your reflection in the waters. It’s something different, something unique. Interesting. 

He smiles, nods his head and walks back to the log to sit on it again. You follow him, sit beside him and stare at his hands. One on the stem of the instrument, pressing down on specific strings as the other plucks them, creating the sound that brought you here. 

The song he plays is gentle, calming, almost like a ballad. And your eyes never leave his hands as he strums the strings, plucks them, and presses them down in different places. It all makes you think; how many sounds can he create with just one string?

“It’s beautiful,” you mention when the song comes to its end. “You must be highly thought of where you come from because you can create music,” you chuckle, lifting your eyes up from the oud and to his face. 

But he doesn’t smile like you thought you would. “Not everyone appreciates it like you do,” he says, forcing a smile as he looks up at you. 

Staring at each other for a while, you’ve almost forgotten that you are not like him and it makes you drop your gaze to your legs and bite your lip. He notices your sudden timidness and holds out the oud to you. “Why don’t you play something now,” he suggests, his words making your gaze snap up to him and a shocked look to fall over your face as you look down at the instrument. 

You laugh, shake your head and hold up your hand in protest. “I don’t know how to play something like this,” you state, keeping your gaze on the oud as you recall how simple he made playing it seem. But you doubt you will have the same experience. “I only know how to play a pan flute because my mother taught me how before she died,” you mutter, wonder to yourself why you’re telling this to a complete stranger. But it just feels right. 

“I will teach you then,” he says, practically thrusting the oud into your hands and shifting closer to you.

Your head snaps to him when you feel him sitting closer to you, your eyes going ever wider as he smiles at you. “You’re not disgusted at my appearance?” you ask, your voice soft and in a whisper and you look down to your goat-like legs and then to his different legs. 

He chuckles, shakes his head and looks down at your legs. “I don’t mind,” he whispers, lifting his gaze back to your face and smiles at you as he reaches for your hand to bring it to the stem of oud. “I only just met you and I’d rather spend my time with you than with anyone else,” he adds, making you smile in return and glance down to hide the fact that a flustered bush crosses your cheeks. “What is your name?” he questions, knowing that it would be easier to call for you when he comes back. 

You couldn’t quite get the hang of playing the oud, no matter how many times Sigurd tried to teach you. Your fingers always fumbled on the strings and you couldn’t get the smooth sounds he makes on the strings. So, you decide to just listen to him play when he comes and visits you. 

Normally, you don’t stay in one part of the woods for very long to avoid being spotted by hunters, but since you’ve met Sigurd, you’ve decided that perhaps it won’t be so bad to stay a bit longer than intended. 

He comes to the grove in the woods where you meet at the same time, almost every day. Just before the sun begins to set, you hear your name being called by a familiar voice. And for the first time, you walk out from your hiding place and into a human’s sight with confidence in your steps. 

“I didn’t think you were coming,” you chuckle, walking closer to him as he sets a satchel on the log you two always find yourself sitting on. 

He laughs, turns to look at you and smiles at the sight of your face. “I would have come sooner if I could,” he mentions, turning around with an apple in his hand that he hands to you. You’ve told him how you can never find different fruit to eat in the woods, that it’s always the same and you wish to try something different. So, since then he’s brought you different kinds of food from his city for you to try. “But, I was waiting to get this for you,” he adds, pulling something else out of his bag as you roll the apple in your hand. 

Seeing him hold a pan flute in his hands makes you gasp and drop the fruit you hold to the ground as you jump forward excitedly. “You found one?” you squeal, gently taking it from him and twirling it to examine it entirely. 

Sigurd can’t help but chuckle at the complete look of glee on your face as you stare at the instrument in your hands. He thought of you the moment he saw it, remembered how you said that your mother taught you how to play it before her death, and couldn’t help but buy it for you. 

Though it’s not like the one you used to have, you know that you will treasure it. 

“I thought it was time you play something for me,” he states, making you chuckle and glance back down to the flute in your hands. 

It’s been so long since last you played it, you’re not sure if you even remember how to. But, after all Sigurd has done for you, from not treating you in fear or disgust at your goat legs and horns growing out of your head to trying to teach you how to play the oud, the least you can do is treat him with your own music and your own songs. 

And you’ll start with the song you know best; the lullaby your mother used to play for you when you were young.

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[pocket-luv101]

Heartstrings || Chapter 2

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side), Tetsono (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru, Hyde, Licht, Tetsu, Misono

Summary: Kuro goes to take a nap in the staircase behind the school and sees Mahiru holding a broken guitar. After he helps him repair the guitar string, Mahiru asks him to teach him how to play. (Given AU/Band AU)

Ch.1 || (Ch.2) ||

“I appreciate your offer to walk me home but you really don’t need to. My apartment is only a few blocks from the music shop.” Mahiru told Kuro as they walked down the street. He had become so engrossed in the band’s music that he hadn’t realized how late it was until the sun had already set. While it was polite to walk someone to their house, they were both guys. He wondered if Kuro’s offer meant that he was beginning to see him as a friend. With that thought, he asked: “Can you teach me how to play, please?”

“You must be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.” Kuro said but a small chuckle followed his words. In the corner of his eyes, Mahiru saw him smile. He hadn’t seen him smile before because he would often have a relaxed appearance. The only time he saw him with a different expression was when he played the guitar. He recalled the concentration on Kuro’s face and it was surprisingly alluring.

Kuro rubbed his hands together and then placed them in his pockets to keep them warm. The night was cold in October and he glanced at Mahiru’s hands. He didn’t wear gloves to ward off the cold yet he held onto his guitar bag’s strap rather than using his pockets. It was clear that the instrument was important to him. Mahiru mentioned that he needed to learn before January came and he wondered why. He didn’t voice the question though. “The music club is free and it’ll probably be more fun than me.”

“I can’t explain my reason well. Even if I did, you might think I’m strange and silly.” Mahiru told him and laughed at himself. He tilted his head back to gaze at the stars above them. “Simply put, I was able to hear your emotions when you played. I could never do something like that. There’s someone I want to communicate my feelings to but I can’t put it into words. Music can be a good alternative though.”

“Are you sure you were hearing my thoughts when I played the guitar? You might have a superpower that lets you read minds.” Kuro joked. He adjusted his guitar bag on his back and said, “I don’t know if I can teach you something complicated like musical expression and such. A professional with more experience can help you better than me. I don’t have a strong connection to my guitar. The only reason I joined the band was because my brother asked me for a favour. The band needed a guitarist.”

His words surprised Mahiru. During the rehearsal, Kuro seemed to enjoy playing. He had the guitar before the band was formed as well. He wasn’t the type to start a hobby if he thought it was troublesome. They only met recently so he couldn’t pry into his connection to music. Mahiru had his own complicated reasons he wanted to learn the guitar.

Silence stretched between them and Mahiru unconsciously began to hum to fill the silence between them. Kuro recognized the song as the one he sang when they first met. He had never heard the melody before and he was curious about the full song. Mahiru stopped humming to ask: “Can I watch your band practise again? It was fun watching you guys play.”

“I don’t mind and the others were excited to have an audience.” He shrugged. “We’ve only played for a few small venues so far. We formed about a month ago so our band is pretty unknown. It doesn’t even have a name yet. We haven’t been able to decide on one. You heard the long name Hyde used to introduce us. Well, the ideas Licht had were more outlandish. Oh, I just remembered. I should tell the Shrimp if you’re going to watch us practise again.”

“Shrimp? Do you mean your manager?” Mahiru asked and Kuro nodded. “Tetsu also called him ‘Shorty’. It’s not very polite to call him those nicknames when you’re younger than him. You two might be tall for high school students but you can’t call other people short.”

“Actually, our manager is in high school like us. Except, he goes to the same high school as Licht. Those two were the ones who started the band actually. Tetsu was recruited next and then Hyde begged them to be a part of the band. I was the last to join.” Kuro explained. He looked down at Mahiru and a light shone over him. He quickly took his hand and pulled him closer. “Watch out for that car.”

Mahiru had been focused on Kuro and he hadn’t noticed the car approaching them. He quickly tried to avoid the car but he stumbled in his rush. He managed to catch himself before he fell by placing his hands onto Kuro’s shoulders. The car passed yet Mahiru didn’t pull away immediately. He knew Kuro was tall but it became more apparent when they were standing so close.

“You should be careful of cars.” His words pulled Mahiru out of his musing. Kuro thought he felt him stiffen a little but he didn’t know why his comment would affect him.

“I can’t see behind me.” Mahiru saw his red eyes fill with concern and he didn’t want the moment to become awkward. He forced himself to smile and added: “Thanks for the rescue, Kuro. This is my apartment building so I should thank you for walking me home too. I had a great time with you today, Kuro. I’ll see you Monday at our usual spot?”

“Sure.” He nodded and his answer made Mahiru smile brightly. He waved to him one final time before he walked into the building. Kuro stood outside and wondered when his ‘napping spot’ on the staircase became ‘their spot’.

Most of the band had returned home but Tetsu stayed behind in the music shop. He worked part time in the store and he helped move the heavy instruments into the backroom for storage. The building was filled with the song of a cello and it relaxed him. Tetsu walked to the front desk where a student was playing the cello. “What song is that, Chibi?”

“I thought I told you to call me by my actual name instead of that nickname. Repeat after me: Misono.” He insisted. Misono fingers never paused over the strings as he chastised him for using the nickname. His brother owned the music shop and he had hired Tetsu recently. He wanted to be Tetsu’s friend so he asked him to join his band after he saw him play the drums.

“I recorded the band’s practise on my laptop. The audio’s rough but you should be able to give us notes on the performance. I’ll send it to you later tonight.” He told him. In reply, Misono merely nodded and continued to practise the cello. Tetsu didn’t mind because he loved to watch him play. The instrument was larger than him yet he had a commanding presence with it. Misono’s music was regal and refined. Their instruments and styles were different but Tetsu had immense respect for Misono.

“I talked to a photographer who will take promo shots of the band. His price is good too.” He had started the band with Licht but he took on the role of manager after the others joined. Misono felt disappointed that he couldn’t contribute his skill as a cellist. “The four of you have been practising the same few songs and you’ve perfected them already. Did anything happen at the rehearsal?”

“Kuro brought his friend to listen to us play. I think his name was Mahiru.”

Misono’s bow slid over the strings incorrectly and it created a harsh shriek. He dropped the bow and Tetsu bent down to pick it up for him. He was slightly confused by his reaction to the name and he wondered if they knew each other. Mahiru wore a different uniform from him so it was unlikely they knew each other from school. “Should we not have let him join?”

There was a moment of silence before Misono took the bow he held out to him. He started to play another song to give himself time to gather his thoughts. “Mahiru and I were childhood friends. After his mother died, he moved to live with his uncle and we lost touch. I know it was more than the distance that made us stop being friends. He broke contact with everyone because he wanted to avoid his memories from that night. Even at the age of seven, I understood that.”

“You must miss him.” Tetsu whispered. He could hear Misono’s feelings in his voice and the melancholy of his instrument. He didn’t know why his stomach turned with jealousy but he tried to push the moment aside. “Mahiru might come to our next practise. You can see him again.”

“I’m surprised that Mahiru came to hear that he came to listen to the band at all. Ever since the accident, music has been a complicated subject to him.” Misono remembered the last time they spoke. “He can’t listen to music without feeling sad. Music is everywhere though— When you enter the supermarket or watch a movie. That must be painful for him. He was my best friend and I want to help him move on. I started a band to help him.”

“You formed this band for him?” Tetsu knew that he started the band with Licht but he never told him the reason.

“It was actually Licht’s idea. I told him about Mahiru and he said he was an angel who needed to be saved. If he could hear something that reconnects him to music, he won’t be sad each time a song plays.” Misono pressed his fingers against the strings of his cello. “We started as a classical duet but a modern band would reach Mahiru easier. I wish I could do something to help him.”

“You’re an important part of this band, Misono.” Tetsu placed his hand over Misono’s. His hand was much smaller than him but they held a surprising strength. He only intended to encourage him but then their gaze met. “Mahiru is very important to you?”

“Well, he was my first friend.” He told him. Misono noticed how Tetsu turned away from him so he couldn’t see his expression. He realized that he must’ve misinterpreted his words and he quickly tried to correct him. “Mahiru and I are just friends and there’s nothing romantic between us. I didn’t have many friends outside of my family staff and that’s the reason he’s important to me.”

“I still don’t know how you’re not more popular. You’re smart and cute.” His straightforward compliment caused Misono to blush deeply. He didn’t know how he was able to say those things so casually.

“Hey, why are you holding my brother’s hand!” Mikuni suddenly came between them and shoved Tetsu away. “I should fire you for hitting on Misono. You’re lucky you still have to repay me for breaking that drum set or I would’ve kicked you out ages ago!”

“Dear Lord.” Misono sighed at his brother’s protective behaviour.

“Can’t Eisuke find someone else to take over his shift? This is very last minute. I’m already scheduled to work the nightshift too. Troublesome.” Kuro told his brother over the phone. He checked the time and said, “I’ll head to the station in a few minutes, Hyde. There’s someone I have to talk to first. I should be able to make it to work on time though.”

“I’ll take your shift tomorrow so you can sleep all day.” Hyde offered. They had a large family so they needed to work at an early age to provide for their younger siblings. They also worked part time as waiters to buy equipment for their band. He was grateful that Misono’s brother owned a music shop so they didn’t need to rent studio space to practise.

Hyde was waiting at the train station for him and Kuro knew how impatient he was. Yet, the conversation he had with Mahiru replayed in his mind. He said they would meet on Monday and he didn’t want to break the promise to him. Someone as stubborn and trusting as Mahiru would likely wait for hours. Kuro would feel guilty if he made Mahiru sit in the staircase alone.

He couldn’t stay long but he thought he should tell him that he had to work. Kuro reached the staircase and he used his shoulder to push the door open. He could easily picture him sitting on the steps with his blue Gibson guitar. His first greeting would likely be: ‘Please, teach me how to play the guitar.’

The staircase was empty when Kuro entered it.

“He’s not here.” He whispered to himself and his voice echoed up the stairs. Kuro wondered if Mahiru had decided to go to the music club like he had suggested. He thought he would be happy to have his napping spot back. Instead, he felt disappointed and he found himself climbing up the steps. He glanced out the large window to the schoolyard below.

“Are you talking about that guy you brought to our practise?” Hyde asked over the phone and pulled Kuro out of his thoughts. His brother knew him well so he didn’t respond to him. He couldn’t understand his own reaction to an empty staircase and he was afraid to give his own feelings a name. “Did you have a date with him? You can just text him to cancel.”

“We’re not dating, Hyde. I would barely call us friends. He only follows me around because he wants me to teach him how to play the guitar.” Kuro descended the stairs to leave. “I’m on my way to the station so save me a seat.”

“Why don’t you teach him? I think it’ll be good for you.” Kuro was surprised that Hyde would encourage him to give Mahiru lessons. He knew how busy they were with school, their band and working part time jobs. “Last Friday’s session, you were more energetic than usual. The only difference between that practise and our past ones is that Mahiru was there.”

“Are you sure? It felt the same to me.” Kuro tried to brush Hyde’s words aside but he had to admit that there was a hint of truth in them. He placed his hand on the door to leave but something caught his eyes and made him pause. His brother went on to say, “It has been a long time since I heard you play the guitar so earnestly. You used to play it every night. Now, it’s only with the band.”

He didn’t respond because his focus was on a note taped to the door. Kuro, I hope you find this letter. It’s me, Mahiru. I wanted to see you today but my friend, Mafuyu, asked me to join the soccer team with him at the last minute. I’ll see you tomorrow. Please, bring this note and circle an answer below. Will you teach me how to play? ‘Yes’ or ‘I’ll think about it’

The ending of the letter made him smile and he circled the latter answer. “I’ll think about it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re not listening to me?” Hyde asked through the phone. “Hurry up the station or we’ll both be late for work.”

Mahiru laid on his back and counted the tiles on the roof. His gaze would move from the roof to the large window and then end on the door. His guitar laid heavy on his chest and he absentmindedly plucked on a string. He waited on the staircase for Kuro and he hoped that he found his note on Monday. He enjoyed playing soccer with his friends but he needed to learn how to play the guitar quickly. Once January passed, he would lose his courage to hold the guitar.

A paper airplane entered his vision and he reached up to catch it with one hand. He kept a secure hold on his guitar so it wouldn’t slip off him as he moved. Mahiru noticed writing on the airplane and he sat up so he could unfold it. He recognized the message as his own and the sentence ‘I’ll think about it’ was circled. Mahiru glanced up to search for Kuro. Kuro walked down the steps and he settled himself onto the floor next to Mahiru.

“I’m glad that you got my letter. I was the one who asked you to meet me here but I had to cancel at the last minute. Makuyu can be spacey and I worry about him playing a sport. He might get hit by a ball while he’s distracted. At least he has Uenoyama now and he would never let anything happen to him.” Mahiru told him. He held up the note and asked, “Do you want to trade phone numbers? It’ll be a better way to keep in contact than using letters and paper airplanes.”

“Promise you won’t text me every few hours for guitar lessons?” Kuro joked dryly but he took out his phone to exchange numbers.

“I swear. Have you thought about my request?” He asked hopefully and Kuro almost agreed when he looked into his eyes.

“I’m still thinking it over.” Kuro reached over and tousled Mahiru’s brown hair as he would with his siblings. He was surprised by how soft his hair was and he languidly twirled a few locks around his fingers. A soft gasp escaped Mahiru and Kuro realized how close they were. He quickly moved away from him and sat back against the wall. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kuro. My hair is messed up but I don’t think that’s anything to apologize over.” He brushed his hair back into place and his fingers lingered over the spot Kuro stroked his hair. He could still feel the warmth from Kuro’s hand. Mahiru was surprised by his touch yet it didn’t bother him.  He couldn’t describe how the simple gesture affected him. The strings around his heart loosened and vibrated to a soft note.

Kuro stared at the ground and he hoped that he hadn’t made Mahiru uncomfortable. He turned his head slightly to see Mahiru’s ace and there was a faint blush on his cheeks. After a moment, Mahiru slid closer to him and leaned into him so their eyes met. “There’s something I want to show you, Kuro. It might convince you to teach me how to play the guitar.”

He wore a confident smile as he sat up and positioned himself to play the guitar. Mahiru pressed his fingers on the strings lightly and then he played a simple chord. The note travelled throughout the staircase. He strummed the same chord and said, “This is the chord that you played after you tuned the guitar the day we met. I learned it when I visited the music club at lunch. I thought I should give it a try at least. They also taught me the proper way to hold the guitar and a play a few other chords.”

“You have a good ear for music if you’re able to recreate that chord after only hearing it once.” Kuro was impressed that Mahiru managed to learn the basics over lunch. He thought of how he would ask him to teach him each day. The passion and determination he had likely helped him learn faster. “It’s good that you found someone to give you lessons.”

“Everyone in the club was kind and helpful.” Mahiru said yet he shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I’ll join though. Thinking simply, I had a lot more fun listening to you play with your band. I want to play like that. Will you teach me?”

Mahiru was a mystery to Kuro. He stared at the Gibson guitar he held and he thought of how strange it was. He told him that he borrowed it yet a guitarist would never give such an expensive instrument to a high school student. Kuro believed Mahiru but could sense that there was more behind the instrument. Behind Mahiru’s request, he could hear him cry for something different. He didn’t know what it could be though.

A part of Kuro questioned why he was thinking about Mahiru so deeply. He rarely became involved with others. When he didn’t answer, Mahiru’s hopeful smile faded into a frown. He stopped strumming and his humming replaced the music. Kuro recognized the song since Mahiru had hummed it twice before. “What’s that song you’re always humming? It sounds nice.”

“Was I humming?” His brown eyes widened and he appeared truly confused. Kuro realized that he must’ve hummed the song unconsciously. Mahiru hugged the guitar close against his chest and said, “There has been a song stuck in my head. It doesn’t have a title or lyrics yet. The only thing I can sing is the la-la-la version of it.”

Mahiru closed his eyes and allowed the melody to flow out of him. He sang softly and it made him feel lighter. His voice harmonized with the strings playing in Kuro’s heart and the atmosphere around them began to tremble. He was entranced by him and he watched him sing. The song was brief yet it affected him strongly. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“The song is simple, isn’t it?” Mahiru turned to see Kuro’s reaction. He couldn’t read the expression he had and he seemed to be stiff with shock. He slowly moved closer to him and said his name, “Kuro?”

“I…” He sounded a little breathless. Then, he reached out to take Mahiru’s hand. “Your voice is beautiful. Our band needs a vocalist. Will you join? I’ll teach you how to play the guitar in exchange.”