#listen to the melody describing itself

[whothehellisoli]

come on in

[rizsu]

project: i'm going insane suna rintarō.

sum. when a project brings together two students & possible crushes. ( no part two sry !! )

a quiet room with only the sweet melody of birds singing tales as the sun kisses your skin. ah, how sweet. it's such a blessing—being lost in paradise as you gaze upon the dancing flowers. truly a magicial scenery! oh, how divine. how divine it is indeed—

“students are to pair up with their deskmate for the project.”

right, you're still in class. reality is truly a pain. you really could've been listening to the sweet melody of birds but instead you got the sweet melody of hell (school).

you haven't turned to face your partner yet. you're not gonna face suna rintaro right now—especially not after he witnessed you graciously trip on nothing this morning.

“so are you gonna talk or are you gonna continue looking at me every five seconds from the side of your eye?” suna asked, tilting his head into his palm while he knocks his pen against the desk.

“i'd rather not honestly.”

“i don't care about your excellent fall this morning, y/n.”

that got it. that sentence awards itself as the sentence that made you whip your head to suna.

“don't spread lies. anyways, what're we gonna do for that project?”

raising his eyebrow, suna thinks. what are you guys going to do actually? he's sure that he'd forget about the whole project after three days.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, typing in random numbers into his calculator before continuing, “here, save my number we can talk more about it later.”

leaning into his side of the desk, you secretly pull your phone out from your bag, trying to save his contact as fast as you can before your homeroom teacher turns back facing the class.

“why the fuck did you save me as ‘some hoe’?!”

“mind your business.”

ಇ. AT HOME

it's 7 pm. you're just coming out of the shower, patting your face with a towel before reaching for your phone.

i should text suna, you think. double tapping your screen, you eyes widen slightly in surprise. it seems as though the other party had the same plans as you did.

snickering at the spammed messages, you opened his chat.

“what a fucking loser.” giggling at his text, you place your phone down going back to finishing your nightly routine.

ಇ. NEXT DAY

if there's one word to describe your mood right now it'll be annoyed. it's far too early for anything nor do you have the time and patience to talk with anyone at 06:45 am. releasing your earbuds from its jail, you put both on at max volume and try to continue your previous slumber.

“no way you're sleeping right now.” a soft voice speaks, the owner of the voice wraps his palm around your neck squeezing it a little.

you don't respond. you know what they say, don't respond to the devil!

oh but that doesn't stop suna. not at all! who is he if not your number one bully? suna knows your aware that he's next to you so how dare you ignore him! clicking his tongue, the boy pulls out one of your buds and places it in his ear before sitting down copying the exact way you're sitting.

suna looks at you. his eyes scanning through your features with a small smile. you're pretty, really. he notes every little feature on you mentally—noting how you always have two fringes/braids framing your face, noting how you actually fell asleep, noting how good your music taste is.

lemme save these songs too, suna thinks. he reaches over for your phone before dropping his hoodie on you. it's quite cold this morning and he'd rather not hear your ten-thousand complaints when you wake up from the nap.

──

“CAN YOU NOT WALK SO FAST?!”

“can't help that i'm an athlete.”

“NO ONE CARES! SLOW DOWN A LITTLE.”

it's 5:42 pm, the beams of the evening sky color the area in its glory. it'd be a beautiful scenery if two teenagers weren't bickering down the street.

a young boy, around six feet tall, walks with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a yogurt. behind him stands a young girl, around (your height), walks with anger as she playfully throws her school bag at the boy.

“keep hitting me and see if i won't throw you down the street.” the boy says, wiggling his finger at the girl as he warns her.

“are you trying to tussle and bussle?” the girl answers back, rolling her eyes at him.

“bussle... what is your vocabulary?” the boy questions, fighting back a smile. he finds her sentence amusing.

“don't question it. anyways, can we go to a café?”

“yeah, i'll grab some snacks for my sister too.”

and so, they set off (still bickering).

ಇ. MIDNIGHT

giggling at your convo, you smile hard before coming to realization.

“did i just fucking giggle at suna?!” questioning yourself out loud, you raise one eyebrow before switching off your phone. i'm going insane, you think.

laying down in a starfish position, you look up at the ceiling wondering about your feelings towards the one and only suna rintarō.

do you like him? yes.

is he annoying? yes.

do you like his company? yes.

do you wish to bash his head in with a rock sometimes? yes.

your romantic emotions clash with your platonic emotions which then clashes with your confusion and creates a whole new headache!

i don't have time for this.

meanwhile at suna's

“ayah, do you think i'm crazy?” suna asks. he's sitting at the end of his bed staring at a wall.

“yes!” the little girl answered, playing with her toys as she ignores her older brother's reaction.

ಇ. NEXT DAY

at the school's gym holds two teenagers that sit side by side, judging other students. one student named suna rintarō aggressively chews on his gum agreeing with the words being said as the other named y/n l/n continues to judge.

“y'know the girl in the right's cheating on her boyfriend?” you say, raising your eyebrows at you look at suna.

gasping, suna looks at you, “you're lying oh my god.”

“no i swear. like, if i was her boyfriend i'd just go home right now.” you replied, shrugging your shoulders as you reach for one of suna's gums.

“that's crazy but who are we to judge honestly.” suna says, popping his gum before standing up.

“i have practice until six today—” he stops before leaning down to your ground level, “don't miss me.” he continues, slightly smirking before pinching your cheek.

“hands OFF. and no, i won't miss you.” shoving his hand away, you stand up to walk out the gym with him (even though there's no reason to).

— at suna's.

suna walks into his home, greeting his family before dragging himself up to his room. he's whipped and absolutely battered. sometimes, he thinks he's not cut out for volleyball—well at least not with mr. perfect kita who does indeed follow a properly written routine.

i'm fucking beat, suna thinks. he plops onto his bed face down but immediately turns around. he thinks about the little interaction from earlier today; you guys were close. he's not really a teasing person but he doesn't know what possessed him to get that close—close to the point he could've moved five centimetres and your lips would meet.

you know that little cartoon effect where a red blush rushes from the character's neck to the head? yeah, that's suna right now. he's done and DUSTED.

“this cannot be real.” suna whispers, he thinks he's going insane. no way he can't stop thinking about you. no way. reaching over for his phone, suna looks at the screen before thinking, should i text her or nah.

he goes with the “nah” option and decides to take a nap. maybe he'll sort his feelings out after his nap.

[symphonybracket]

YouTube links: Mahler 2, Tchaikovsky 6

Comments:

Mahler 2

Have you ever wanted to feel like you're going to shake apart into a billion pieces if someone so much as looks at you. That's how I feel after listening to this beast. This symphony changed my life for real. It's famous for it's ending and for good reason!! It truly feels like your soul is getting blown up and steamrolled. Listening to it live was like getting peeled by god. It calls for 10 horns which is how you know it's going to fuck severely. It comes in 5 movements: good lord oh my god, hehe teehee, oh so that's why they call it the death shriek, crying on the floor for 5 minutes, and I Have Died. The part known as the "Death Shriek" is shown below! And if you're interested in learning more about the symphony, here's my favorite analysis website!

It's an everything in the universe piece and when I sang in the choir for it I think I actually ascended to a higher plane of existence for 15 minutes

I came across (imo) a good video giving a summarised background of Mahler 2, it’s called ‘Gustav Mahler - Symphony No. 2: Explained in 3 Minutes’ by orchestra of the music makers on YouTube

There is also a piano arrangement!

Tchaikovsky 6

Everyone bangs on about the 4th movement but it's the 3rd movement that really hits

tchaik 6 is what i would listen to if i had an hour to live

the 5/4 movement of the tchaik lives rent free in my mind and i think about it every day

It’s beyond gorgeous. The melodies soar, the orchestra swells, and you just need to lie down for a while after listening to it. It’s Romanticism at its zenith. You want to weep and sigh, and it’s impossible to listen to it without literally feeling something.

Symphony No. 6, titled “Pathétique”, was Tchaikovsky’s final symphony. It is an intensely emotional piece, and to many scholars demonstrates the emotional turmoil that characterized much of Tchaikovsky’s life. He died about a week after its premiere, a fact which leads many scholars to debate about whether the content of the piece itself reflects the possibility that he may have committed suicide. The title itself is often translated to mean “impassioned suffering”, although this was most likely a later addition by Modest and not actually part of Tchaikovsky’s vision. Given these facts, many scholars interpret this piece to be about death and suffering. However, this piece can also be seen to represent life and all its contrasting moments. This interpretation is more holistic and inclusive of all of the moments captured in this piece, and also serves to break down the common narrative of Tchaikovsky as a tragic figure.

More comments about Tchaikovsky 6 below the cut (length warning):

Scholarship surrounding Tchaikovsky’s music tends to focus heavily on the ways his confliction over his homoerotic desires appears in his writing. However, his personal letters reveal a much more balanced understanding of himself that goes beyond the common narrative. In one letter written to Modest describing a new relationship with another man, he writes: “I awoke today with a feeling of unknown happiness and with a complete absence of that emotional sobriety that used to make me repent in the morning for having gone too far the day before.” Many of the letters he wrote regarding his relationships demonstrate no shame and no anguish beyond what can be expected of a man living in a homophobic society. It is important to take this information into account when listening to a piece such as this one that has been discussed so frequently, and to understand it beyond the turmoil and strife that it is seen to represent. Like many of Tchaikovsky’s works, this symphony displays a range of human emotions. It is not only representative of tragedy and “impassioned suffering”; it is a depiction of what it is like to live. It is also interesting to note that this piece is used as a signifier of queer desire in the novel "Maurice" by E.M. Forster, a novel also notable for its radical portrayal of a queer man who gets a happy ending. Much to think about there.

The first movement begins with a lone bassoon soloist playing a plaintive minor melody, which later comes back in the strings. As the movement progresses, it grows in intensity and texture. More instruments are added, and the music becomes more frantic, building and building towards the dramatic trumpet fanfare. Throughout this piece, Tchaikovsky continues to make significant use of contrasting dynamics and melodies, reflecting the emotions he hopes to convey through the music. Dramatic, tumultuous sections are interspersed with pastoral woodwind melodies, and the angry brass fanfares give way to a quiet ending.

The second movement is reminiscent of a waltz, and uses the strings and woodwinds more than the brass to achieve its floating melodies. The dynamics ebb and flow to build tension, but this movement never reaches the same levels of anguish that the previous movement does. Tchaikovsky makes use of pizzicato in the strings to convey a lighter, more cheerful mood, and features the upper woodwinds prominently. He also repeats themes frequently, giving the audience something familiar to listen out for as the movement progresses.

The third movement begins with frantic energy in the strings and woodwinds. As more instruments join the rush of music, the underlying eight note accompaniment does not let up, continuing the vivacious beginning through the whole movement. Instruments pass the melodies between each other and engage in conversations across the orchestra. Like the first movement, the brass play a prominent role in creating dramatic climaxes in the music, as well as supporting the march-like conclusion. Conductor Myung-Whun Chung describes the deceptively dramatic ending as, “one of the greatest, most thrilling, but most empty of victories in musical history,” observing that this movement has the energetic finality of a final movement. The reversal of having the true finale be a slower movement represents a shift away from the “Beethovian model of light over darkness” common in most other symphonies of this time period.

As mentioned before, ending on a movement with a slow tempo was a significant shift away from the standard of the time. This innovation inspired many other future composers to use the same technique, most notably Mahler in his Ninth Symphony. The quiet beginning builds up towards a chaotic rush of fast runs throughout the orchestra, only to stop abruptly and continue in halting, cautious bursts of melody. The movement continues with this cycle of rushing up to a climax and backing away as the movement progresses. Tchaikovsky highlights the horns in this movement, giving them both angry, blaring notes which cut through the string melodies and the flowing, lyrical lines that are passed throughout the orchestra. As the piece ends, the instruments fall away until all that is left are steady repeated notes in the basses, bringing this lament of a movement to an understated close.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter Two: Bittersweet

The Depths we Devour, a gothic horror detective!joel fic

Summary

Detective Miller begins to investigate the strange clicking sound coming from below the cellar when he hears you scream, rushing to protect you.

Word Count: 6.4k

Tags: joel miller has inappropriate thoughts about reader, Joel POV, reader is referred to as the girl and she/her, reader has hair that can be braided and reaches her back, reader wears dresses, protective!joel, joel calls reader sweetheart/honey, violence, joel shoots someone, near death experience, anxiety, reader goes non-verbal, joel comforts reader, joel can carry reader, joel undresses and dresses reader, comfort!, im screaming while writing this, height difference, joel describes reader as small (height), joel is a little bit of an ass to alex, joel examines dead body (kind of) - as always, if i miss any let me know

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The Detective

Day Two

5am

His sleep is restless, an annoying clicking coming from below him keeping him from sleeping more than an hour at a time. At three, he lays flat on the floor with his ear pressed on the dark wooden floors. He grunts as the clicking stops, then starts again and he taps his head on the floor a few times before getting back into bed. He presses a pillow to his head, attempting to drown out the noise but his efforts are futile.

Click, click, clickclickclick, thump.

Click.

At five, he gets up from the bed, grumbling at the noise as he dresses for the day.

He stumbles down the stairs with a long, audible yawn, his eyes adjusting to the light of the sunrise shining through the windows. The storm which had settled overnight and caused such chaos has now passed, the clouds parting and clearing as the sun rises again, the harsh weather of yesterday reduced to the gentle blue sky and calm, refreshing, morning air.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and pauses momentarily, his ears catching the soft song of her voice, a melodious tune paired with the soothing keys of a piano. It calls out to him just as it did yesterday, and he is drawn to it, like a siren seducing him deeper into its embrace.

 He finds her once more, her back to him as her soft voice rises and falls, paired against the soothing keys and the peaceful atmosphere of the morning. Her fingers dance smoothly over the keys, her movements and motions as fluid and pleasing to the eye as her voice is to his ears.  

“I flew back home. It seems everything's the same. Except that you weren't home ‘Hello,’ I call to no one. When you're home, you're home. When you're home, you're home.”

He listens in a trance until the song comes to an end, the words flowing and tapering off as the song comes to a natural and satisfying conclusion. His gaze remains fixed upon her, his body relaxing as he leans on the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest and a faint smile finding its way to his lips as he takes in the beautiful scene in front of him.

Her hair is braided in two small braids today, each sporting a delicate, soft pink bow at the end. Her dress is shorter today than it had been yesterday, revealing the delicate skin of her legs beneath it. The dress itself is a light shade of pink, almost white. There is another small bow at the back of her dress near the waist, giving her a young and youthful appearance.

Tooyoungtooyoungtooyoung.

She turns a moment after her fingers press the final key on the piano and brings an abrupt end to her song as she catches sight of the detective, a soft smile spread across her face as she sees him. However, as she turns, the dress rises slightly, exposing a brief hint of her thigh before he quickly averts his gaze. He refuses to continue to let his eyes linger in a way that he knows would be inappropriate.

He craves to touch her again, to feel the smooth skin under his fingertips as she responds to his touch with goosebumps on her skin, his every urge screaming at him to reach out for her, yet his body remains still.

Tooyoungtooyoungtooyoung.

“Good morning detective. You’re awake awfully early.” she remarks with a warm, kind smile, standing from the piano with a fluid, graceful motion. His gaze flickers downwards for a moment before settling back onto her face, his eyes momentarily caught by the soft, white lace-trimmed socks which rise to just below her knees. The sight draws his focus once more, and he swallows thickly, unable to help himself. His attention then returns to her face, trying to push away those thoughts that were growing increasingly... inappropriate.

To throw her soft laced covered legs over his shoulders as he-

She’s his client.

A younger client.

He clears his throat. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She lets out a soft sigh, beginning to move past him as she walks across the room, leading him into a smaller, more intimate kitchen as compared to the kitchen from the lower level of the previous day. She gestures for him to sit down on a stool at the island before her, moving towards the coffee pot as he follows along, settling down into his seat as she begins to prepare some coffee for them both.

“Was it the clicking?” She asks, her back to him.

He frowns, clasping his hands together as he leans on the bench. “What?”

“What kept you awake, was it the clicking? We’ve searched the whole house, can’t find where it comes from. It’s always lower, even when we go down to the cellar, it’s still coming from under the floorboards even though that’s the lowest part of the house.” She sighs as she busies herself.

“Any sugar? Milk?” She asks, finally turning to him as she asks.

“Just black coffee is fine.”

He frowns as she speaks, his curiosity piqued at the strange clicking noise. It was loud last night, like it was right beneath him. Yet the fact that it seemed to come from beneath the cellar only added further confusion to the mystery. But if the noise comes from under the cellar, how did he hear it so loud last night? 

He shakes his thoughts aside as she sets a mug of coffee in front of him, the hot steam filling the air above the mug as she does. “I don’t know how you drink it like that, it’s so bitter.” He is brought back to the present moment by her adorable little nose scrunch, his thoughts on the clicking momentarily diverted, if only for a few moments by her expression. He hates himself for finding her cute, but then, he can't seem to help himself when it comes to her.

"Yeah? I bet you have ten sugars, right?" He teases back, taking a small sip of the coffee. He watches as she rolls her eyes at him with a smirk on his face.

“No, that’s gross. I have honey and milk in mine.” She shrugs. His gaze flicks over to the jar of raw honey on the bench, a small Winnie the Pooh design on the jar standing out to him.

“Honey?” he raises his eyebrow at the jar.

“It’s really good, I swear.”

“I doubt that.” he responds with a teasing lilt to his voice, scrunching up his nose as he does so. She huffs in response, crossing her arms over her chest. Her small, adorable expression all but screaming out that he had clearly touched a sensitive spot with her.

He watches her pout and huff with amusement, a small corner of his mind telling him that he's just watching her and not trying to commit the moment to memory. That he's only watching her and nothing more. Yet, despite his attempts at denial, another portion of his mind remains focused upon these small, subtle details about how she makes her coffee, just in case he does end up having to make it for her himself, a desire to make it right for her.

Perfect for her.

No, of course not. He’s just watching.

She sits down next to him with a huff, but all trace of the small pout and the even cuter huffing soon vanishes as she sips the coffee, a smile spreading across her lips as it seems to hit all the right points of her taste buds. He watches her, catching a brief glimpse of the smile, before he quickly returns to his own mug of hot, bitter coffee.

She’s too sweet for him.

8:24am

A courtyard is situated on the other side of the conservatory, numerous large planter boxes filled with growing vegetables and herbs of all kinds, the small area arranged neatly and cleanly as it looks like its tended to regularly. The warm, soothing smell of the herbs and vegetables mix to form a pleasant air as the morning sun strikes the courtyard, casting its light to shine against the conservatory glass windows and the garden.

The girl mentioned as they ate breakfast together that she had not seen the grounds keeper for a few days, but that wasn’t unusual. The grounds keeper, Mia, is known to take small trips into the town a few hours from the manor and since there was a storm last night, it was more than likely she waited the storm out in town.

A woman with long wavy red hair kneels in front of a planter box, clad in a pair of gloves as she digs her hands into the moist soil, her bandanna tied around her head to keep her long hair out of her face as she frowns, focusing on the task before her. The sound of her movements and the quiet chatter of the occasional bird or passing insect is the only noise in the courtyard.

The detective doesn't care about being quiet, about startling the woman. His fingers wrap themselves around a metal chair neatly tucked under a table in the courtyard and drags it across the short distance that separates the two of them. He sets the chair down near her and sits down in it backwards, his legs spread around the back of the chair as he rests his forearms on the metal frame.

“I’m not in the mood sugar,” She sighs without glancing at the detective, her voice tired and slightly resigned.

Sugar.

“I prefer Detective Miller, actually.”

She turns to face him at the sound of his voice, her face registering a moment of confusion as she notices his sudden presence in the courtyard. She seems to be in her late thirties and her eyes are red, bloodshot. It's clear to the detective she's been crying. Small scratches line her neck, reaching down towards her collarbone. A dark bruise is beginning to take form under the collar of her shirt where her overalls are buckled over her shoulder.

Mia tugs the collar of her shirt slightly before she turns her attention back to the garden bed, clearly trying to avoid his gaze. She tries to reassure herself, her voice softer than before as she speaks.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she mutters quietly, but there's a waver to her words, and she seems to be trying to hide something.

“What happened?” The detective asks, his eyes tailing across her body.

There are splatters of blood and mud around the bottom of her overalls, a few small tears at her knees adding to the mixture of stains on her clothing. Her boots are caked in mud and grass up to the top, the grooves in the soles filled with small rocks that are pressed there from her travels. She was in the forest, he decides. 

“I was in town before the storm. Stayed the night.” She shrugs, her eyes diverted from the detective.

“Don’t lie to me.” He warns, shifting in the chair as he looks down at her.

Mia leans back on her heels, seeming to try and get some relief from the physical labour of the task, but she doesn't seem to get any. She looks exhausted, sick even, her movements sluggish now. Her eyes still avoiding his gaze.

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“It’s going to take an awful lot for me to think that of you miss.”

“I went looking for Doctor Lewis.” She confesses.

Joel nods, waiting patiently for her to continue.

“I went to the cave he’s been working out of, but then the storm hit. It was so dark and cold, so I went deeper to get out of the storm. But there were monsters in there.” Her voice is a mere whisper now, a sharp contrast to her earlier tones. When she mentions the monsters, there is a clear hint of fear and caution in the way she speaks. She speaks of them in hushed tones, as if they might take notice of her call and suddenly appear, eager to attack her once more.

Joel nods with a sigh as he stands from the chair, crouching next to her to get a better look at her wounds. She's scared, tired, and hurt, he can see it in her mannerisms. She flinches when his hand reaches out for her, pain making her hiss as she tries to shrink back and hide from the touch.

"You think it was a wild animal?" Joel attempts to assure her, his arms now retreated to his knees, his tone remaining calm as he speaks to her. "Caves can be dark at night, easy to make mistake shadows for something else," he says, suggesting that what it was might not have been reality, but just in her mind. 

"You think I'm crazy?" She scoffs, shaking her head as she stands up on shaky legs, trying to find her footing on the uneven courtyard ground. Her voice is sharp, defensive, but there's a hint of bitterness to it as she speaks.

“No,” He sighs as he stands with her, his knees cracking at the movement. “I think you’re tired and hurt. You should go rest, look after yourself. I’ll come find you when you’re feeling better, make sure you’re okay?” He tucks his hands into his jacket pocket, shifting on his feet and she slowly nods.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She seems to give up when she acknowledges his comment, her shoulders slumping as if she's completely given in to the idea and that she might just be imagining things. She begins to turn away from him without saying another word.

She stops however, turning back to the detective as a look of curiosity and confusion spreads on her face, the wheels turning in her mind as she puts her experience in the cave together. She lets her thought linger, her voice a whisper as she speaks up again.

"I may be crazy or imagining things, but the same clicking we hear at night, it was in the cave too. Don't you think that's strange?"

The detective remains in the courtyard as she leaves, the sound of the clicks a lingering thought. The detective's fingers trail over his chin, thinking about the noise he's both heard himself last night and the occupants of the manor mention.

What is this damn clicking sound?

10:28am

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclick, thump. Click.

The sound is loud, almost ghostly as the detective stands in the darkened cellar, his hands on his hips, his foot tapping in thought. It's as if something is calling to him, wanting him to pay attention to something hidden in the shadows.

The clicking seems to be coming from below him, from underneath the floor of the cellar, but there is no sign of a room beneath it. The clicking continues, faint but loud, the sound almost haunting as it echoes throughout the small, dark room. The detective shifts his stance, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness, and his hands reaching down to feel the floor in hopes of finding the source of the sound.

He had found a floor plan of the manor tucked away in Dr. Lewis’ study after leaving the courtyard. The underground level is fairly small, consisting of the staff kitchen, laundry room, storage room, cellar and an old boiler room.

No signs of a tucked away staircase, hidden room or ladder of any kind.

There is, however, the boiler room he found locked. On the map, there are two connecting rooms. The boiler room and an unmarked secondary room. 

The detective pulls out his small notepad, scribbling on the paper a reminder to ask either the girl or one of the staff where he can find a key to the room.

His neck snaps towards the roof of the cellar, a loud terrified scream coming from the levels above. His blood runs cold, he knows that scream. Over decades as a detective, Joel has heard countless types of screams. From a child screaming over dropped ice cream, to the extreme of someone screaming for their life.

 This one stands out from the rest, the sheer terror and desperation in it causing his heart to skip a few beats.

Her scream.

He drops his notebook without giving it a second thought, his legs automatically carrying him out of the room before he even has time to think. His boots are loud on the concrete floors as he sprints through the corridor and towards the stairs, his steps quick as he runs up them. He pushes the door at the top of the stairs open with his shoulder as he bursts through it, the door slamming against the wall from the force of his momentum, the sound echoing loudly as it does.

Her screams grow more desperate, and he turns towards the sound.

Upstairs.

“Get off her!”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“You’re hurting her! Stop!”

He doesn’t know what lies waiting for him upstairs, the unknown almost paralysing as the terrified scream echoes above him. His pulse is pounding in his body as it races through his veins, his heartbeat quickening with every step he takes, his mind focused solely on the screams as they echo throughout the entire house. He pulls his gun from its holster, unsure of what lies ahead but prepared for the worst.

A sound that will haunt him like the others. 

He kicks open the large wooden doors, her screams loud on the other side.

The detective freezes.

She’s on the floor, her back to him as she tries to scramble backwards. She cries as she slips in fright, her head hitting the floor.  

Mia screeches, her eyes widening in hunger as she grabs her leg and tugs. Her jaw clamps shut, almost as if she’s trying to bite the girl. Mia seems different, feral. Her eyes are no longer filled with fear, but with hunger. It’s as if a switch has flipped inside of her, and she has turned into something else entirely.

Alexander hits Mia over the head with a wooden stick, broken off from a chair. Mia screeches once more, a sound almost animalistic and not human but the impact causes her no harm. 

Mia’s hand reaches up towards the girl and before she has a chance to touch her again, a bullet hits her shoulder.

Her head snaps towards the detective as he stands in the doorway, his gun aimed at her. She screeches, scrambling to her feet.

“What the fuck.” The detective swears in shock. She should be in pain from the bullet. He watches as the blood seeps from her as she stands hunched over, her breathing laboured. There’s a high pitch angry screech before she sprints in the direction of Joel. The girl forgotten.

He shoots Mia again, this time in the leg but she only flinches as she runs erratically towards him.

He pulls the trigger on the gun, the shot ringing out loudly in the room as the bullet hits her face in the middle of her forehead. Her body twitches in shock, dropping to the ground like a rag doll as his shot makes contact with her. The sound of the gun echoes in the room, and the silence that follows seems even louder as he watches her fall to the ground.

She lies there, motionless on the ground, the detective taking in the sight of her form for a few moments, staring at her blankly. He wonders what might have caused this to happen to her, whether it was some form of fucked up rabies or something else entirely. He remains frozen in place for a few seconds before he reaches out with his foot to prod her body, checking to make sure she's dead.

What attacked her last night?

A broken sob snaps him out of his stare, the detective's attention now refocused on the girl. He tucks his gun back in its holster and strides with haste towards the other girl, concern evident in his actions as he moves quickly towards her.

She's pressed herself against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she experiences a state of panic. Her breathing is quick and shallow, her eyes darting around the room for something to explain what just happened, but she's unable to find a clear explanation for it.

He drops to his knees beside her, reaching out for her but retracting his hand quickly as he realises he might startle her. He looks down at her, taking in the sight of her body carefully, his eyes scanning every inch of her for signs of injury.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, almost panicked himself.

Her head turns, her eyes staring into his with fear, before her bottom lip starts to twitch, her body beginning to tremble. She falls apart in front of him, his heart shattering at the sight, as he watches the pain and fear she feels take over her.

Joel settles next to her as she cries, his fists clenching as her emotions take over and he struggles not to be able to hold her, to comfort her as she cries. The urge to reach out for her is strong, the urge to hold her and tell her everything is going to be okay tearing at his heart. He watches as she weeps, his eyes filled with concern and a small hint of sadness as the girl lets her emotions overwhelm her.

Her hand grips onto his sleeve, tugging him closer as she presses herself into his side, gripping onto him as if her life depended on it. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, finally pulling her closer to him as he does so. He can feel her trembling violently now, and his grip tightens around her as if he's trying to offer her some comfort in the form of his touch. His other hand settles on her head, gently holding it close to him.

"You're okay sweetheart, you're okay." He whispers softly, his voice gentle and caring as he holds her close and softly rocks her, attempting to offer her comfort and support in words as he tries to soothe her.

Her hand grips onto his shirt, and he feels her tears stain as the emotion pours from her, but he doesn't find himself caring in the slightest. He doesn't mind being stained with her tears, it's the least he can do to help her. He lets her grip his shirt as she sobs, his body becoming stained by her tears as he comforts her, his own hand wrapping behind her head as her head nuzzles into his chest. The feeling of her body pressed against him warm and comforting, soothing his own fear.

"What the hell was that?" Alexander swears, his voice a rough and harsh whisper as he stands across the room, looking down at the body of Mia. The blunt wooden stick still gripped tightly in his hands, staring at her as the pool of blood expands around her. His own shock overwhelming him as he stands there.

“I want you to go find Eliza, make sure she’s alright,” Joel instructs him, trying to keep him busy with a task to keep his mind from wandering to the body of Mia.

Alexander takes his eyes off Mia, looking down at the detective holding the girl close and comforting her, the girl sobbing into his chest. He frowns but seems to accept the situation at hand now and nods. "Yeah, yeah, I can go do that."

He turns and heads out the room, stepping over Mia’s body as he leaves.

Joel closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as he holds her close to him, trying to calm down from the adrenaline rush. Her sobs have calmed in severity, but her body is still shaking slightly as she remains in his grip. He slowly rubs her back, and she seems to sink into his touch, her body relaxing in his arms.

He looks over at Mia again, but she's no longer his primary focus, his attention now turning to the girl in his arms. Now that her crying has subsided, he takes a long and careful look at her, the red watery eyes staring up at him from below. His hand covers the side of her face, his thumb making small and gentle movements that he hopes will be comforting to her, his gaze locked on with hers as he searches her eyes for any hints of her mental state.

“How about I take you to your room while I sort this out?” He proposes, his voice soft and gentle as he looks down at her.

She nods, her eyes wide and glued to his.

Protectprotectprotectprotect.

He starts to move her off of him to stand, to get her to start moving to a safer, cleaner environment. As he does, her body begins to panic again, her grip tightening on him as a reaction. He huffs a soft laugh in response, as if he expected this and is trying to keep the tension light, “Come on, I gotta get up honey.”

She pushes her face into his chest, burying it there as she holds onto him again for comfort. Her body is shaking again, her breath coming in quick and shallow breaths as she begins to panic again, her grip tightening once more on his clothes.

He sighs, realising that there's no point in arguing with her, that she's going to want to cling onto him no matter what. So instead, he acknowledges her need and offers her the comfort of being carried, a way to move her away from the horror and trauma that she's just endured. He knows the answer is going to be yes, but he asks it anyway just to make her feel as though she has some sort of choice or say in the matter.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Want me to carry you, sweetheart?” He asks, already knowing the answer.  

She nods into his chest.

Protectprotectprotectprotect.

“Can you let go for a second, so I can stand up.” As he speaks, he feels her shake her head, but he hushes her. “Just for a second sweetheart, I’ll be right here, I promise. Not going anywhere.”

He waits until she gives his question a slight nod, her grip loosening as he takes hold of her hand and gently moves her off of his body. She's still trembling slightly, but she's not holding onto him with the same intensity as she was before, and she allows him to help her stand up despite the fear.

“Come on, lift your legs, I got you.” He grunts, shifting her weight to a more favourable position as he picks her up, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as she clings to him, her arms latching around his neck as she buries her face into his neck, wanting to feel as close as possible to him in her state of distress.

Protectprotectprotectprotect.

She's pressed tightly against him, her body clinging to him and moulding against his, and it takes every ounce of self-control in him to not think about the way she feels pressed against him. The way it feels right, the way it feels... like she belongs pressed so closely against him. Like this is where she should be, against him, in his arms.

The bed is just a few steps away, her bedroom door open as he walks through carefully, not wanting to disturb her space. When they get to the bed, he sets her down on top of the covers, making sure she's comfortable and secure. He wants her to feel as safe as possible after what just happened, and this is where she should be. Her bedroom, her bed, her safe space.

He looks down at her ripped socks, her blood-stained dress, and a frown spreads across his face. He kneels at her bedside and he feels her watching him carefully as he lifts her leg, placing her foot on his thigh as he begins to carefully remove her torn socks.

He places the socks on the bed beside her as he stands up, then nods towards her dress. "You should get changed."

She remains still, her eyes glued to his own, her face blank, emotionless. It's as though she's frozen in place, unable to respond to his words. He watches her closely, his eyes flicking between her unresponsiveness and the stained dress before he repeats himself.

Nothing.

He sighs with a nod. “Alright.”

He slowly moves his hands towards her, keeping his pace gentle and slow so she has ample time to respond or voice any objections to his actions. She remains quiet, her gaze locked onto his own.

He stands between her legs, the situation now mirroring back to what happened last night. This time it's not for fun, not for his own pleasure, not for anything except for necessity. He softly orders her to put her arms up.

She lifts her arms up and allows him to tug the stained dress up and over her head, the stained material sliding off of her. Once the dress has been removed, he folds it up and places it next to the socks before he looks back down at her, his gaze once more meeting hers.

He tells himself he’s checking for injuries as he looks further down her body.

Softsoftsoftsoft.

His eyes flick over to the other side of the room, to the neatly folded pyjamas on the chair, waiting for her. He takes them, placing them on the bed beside her.

She doesn’t move.

He takes her hand and gently tugs her to her feet. He kneels in front of her again, looking up at her as she stares back down at him, his gaze softening as he looks up at her and sees the adoration in her eyes.

Joel reaches for the pants, so soft in his calloused hands. His hand wraps around her ankle, helping her stand into her pants. Once both feet are in, he slowly pulls the material up her legs until the waistband sits snug on her waist.

His hands don’t linger, his thumb definitely doesn’t feel her soft skin like the night before. She doesn’t shiver under his touch.

Joel has always been too good at lying to himself.  

He stands, his hands still on her waist as he towers over her, a few inches taller than her. She's looking up at him as if she's mesmerized, fascinated, intrigued.

Smallsmallsmallsmall. 

His hands leave her as he guides her arms through the sleeves of her shirt, adjusting it and making sure it's sitting correctly before he turns his attention to her buttons.

He pulls each and every button through the little holes, closing the shirt around her form, keeping it away from his sinful eyes. His fingers fumble with the small and delicate buttons, frowning in concentration as he pulls each one through, paying extra attention and focus to making sure each one goes into the right hole.

He adjusts the collar, flattening it out and fitting it properly around her neck, ensuring that it sits softly and comfortably against her skin. His hands still on her shoulders as he gazes down at her. "There, all dressed." his voice soft and gentle.

He gently guides her back to the bed, easing her to sit down before she crawls into the middle of the bed, back against the pillows and stuffed animals surrounding her.

"I should probably leave, call the local police," Joel states, his voice soft and gentle. He averts his eyes away from her, turning to leave the room. 

“Please don’t leave me.”

Joel's heart aches as he hears her small and broken voice for the first time since the incident, that tiny little plea of hers for him not to leave her. He turns back, the guilt and sadness welling in his chest as he takes in her image, her state, and her desperate voice. Something inside of him breaking for just a moment as his gaze falls on every inch of her, from the blood-stained dress at the end of the bed, to the little stuffed animals surrounding her, to her broken and pleading voice.

“Yeah, I can stay sweetheart.”

Joel moves towards the desk chair, but she shakes her head, patting the spot beside her on the bed.

He sighs in defeat.

Joel sits at the end of the bed, untying his boots and leaving them on the floor as he stands. He tugs his shoulder harness and holster from his body, laying it on the chair before he moves once more back to the bed, to her.

He sits on the edge beside her before she tugs on his shirt, and he laughs at her impatience. “Alright, alright.” He laughs, giving in to her impatient tug upon his shirt, before moving to sit beside her on the bed, his back against the soft pillows and stuffed animals. He takes hold of her hand and gently squeezes it, the simple gesture meant to offer comfort and reassurance, to promise that he won't leave her side.

She moves quickly, moulding her body to his side, wrapping her leg around his and her arm around his torso as she buries her head against his chest. She settles there, cheek on his chest, pressing her body against him tightly. Her breathing slowly begins to return to a normal pace as she feels the comfort of his presence.

His hand settles back on her head, softly petting and playing with her hair as he speaks quietly to her, his voice soft and gentle. "You just needed a hug, huh?" he huffs, a soft chuckle in his voice as he speaks.

She tightens her hold on him as she closes her eyes.

Protectprotectprotect.

12:29pm

The detective slams the phone down, anger and frustration coursing through his body, before his eyes spot the closest thing to him, a glass cup. With a violent, explosive motion, he grasps the cup with his hand and hurls it across the room, glass shattering as it crashes against the wall. His hands then gripping tightly to the back of a chair as he leans over it, letting out a sound of frustration, as if he wants to destroy everything around him.

The local police were no help. He called them to inform them of the altercation, to explain what happened. They were very quick to agree to pick up the body but refused to cooperate any further.

He wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the body after it gets transported to the morgue.

"Fuck this," he mutters to himself before stomping back up the steps to the crime scene. His anger is still at an all-time high, rage boiling up inside of him as he marches back up the stairs, intent on finding out more answers about what happened and why.

Mia’s body - thankfully - is still lying face down in her own blood.

He tugs his gloves over his hands, his anger still simmering. He carefully pushes Mia on her back, the body now exposed once more, giving him a full view. He takes in the sight, takes in the wounds and injuries that the victim had endured, both from himself and whatever attacked her last night. 

He notes the change in Mia’s hair, how it is now thinner, duller in colour and texture. How when he reaches up to touch it, clumps of hair fall out as though plucking strands of cotton candy. The changes in her appearance and condition clearly something that catches his attention.

How interesting.

Her skin, once a rosy and healthy shade, is now pale and sickly, as if all life and energy had been sucked out of it. The skin is also moulted and covered in lesions. The detective's face scrunches up in disgust as he touches the skin, feeling the texture and the condition of the flesh beneath his fingertips is enough to bring about his disgust.

It doesn’t feel human.  

He remembers the bruise that he saw on her shoulder this morning, but he didn't get a chance to take a closer look at it. Pushing the collar of the shirt aside shows the large animal bite. The bite itself is red and black in appearance, infected and inflamed, the flesh around the edge of the bite having rotted and turned black. 

He crouches down beside the body, his face twisting in even greater disgust as he leans in for a closer look at the rotting bite, hoping to gain more insight into what could have inflicted the injury and caused her to behave the way she did.

“Huh?” Joel huffs as he spots a tooth wedged into the bite.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

Joel turns away from the body at the sound of Alexander's voice, the detective raising a curious eyebrow as he gazes over at the man. But he doesn't take his eyes off of the body for long, his gaze shifting back to the body of the victim as he turns his head to look back at Mia.

 “Neither should you.”

“Touché.” He shrugs as he moves to stand beside the detective. “What are you doing?”

"If you're going to just stand there and bother me, could you at least get me some tweezers?" the detective glares up at the man, demanding something to better occupy his busy hands. The man rolls his eyes before leaving the room, searching for tweezers to appease the detective. After a moment, he returns and hands him the tool.

"Wasn't so hard, was it," the detective murmurs, annoyance in his voice as he accepts the tweezers from Alexander. He leans back over the body, using the tweezers to ease the tooth from the bite, gently removing it.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Alexander mutters, taking a couple steps back away from the detective, his body heaving from the sight as he reaches for the side of the wall, taking a deep breath before dry retching.

The detective ignores the man and his dramatics, instead bringing the tooth closer to his eyes, inspecting the tooth closely, inspecting the colour, the shape, the markings, and even the texture with the utmost attention.

How interesting.

A human tooth.

Click here for Chapter three

Notes

yall i went feral over this. JOEL DRESSING READER okay on a serious note, a first glance at what is haunting the manor and its surrounds! I really enjoyed writing this chapter - a lot - so i hope yall like it too!

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @jupiter-soups @lollabear

[queervocasongtourn]

Queer Vocaloid Song Tournament: Side A, Round 1

Please listen to all songs before voting!

Shama by NILFRUITS feat. VFlower

VS

Zero Talking by Harumaki Gohan feat. Hatsune Miku

Propaganda under the cut!

SHAMA

"extremely potent yearning, the powerful dynamic of safety in disguise but a dangerous freedom in truth, beautiful characters…what more can you ask for?"

"if i am being completely honest i dont actually get everything that happened in shama - that can be left to all the other people who are more knowledgeable about nilfruits songs than me and immediately thought of submitting this - but I immediately thought of this song because its so SO good. the song itself is incredible and the mv adds on to make it an even greater work!! i might not know all of shama's story, but what i do know is that shama's a fantastic song regardless and i'll go crazy whenever i hear it. and i also do know that clay and kalmia (especially clay) are some great lgbtq+ rep in a vocaloid song!!! the section from 2:00-2:36, when accompanied by the mv, is maybe one of my favorite moments in any vocaloid song. what follows is also great! as propaganda i am begging the reader to go listen to shama with the mv if they haven't. i don't want to explain it because i don't entirely know how to but they're fucking gay and i really like how the mv shows this!"

"sapphic 👍👍"

"Okay so this one is kinda hard to explain but the MV is some flavour of queer for sure. Just… watch it and you'll get what I mean"

"a femme-fatale prisoner and one of her guards have a doomed romance..! the mv is by wooma, who uses a graphic colour palette to complement nilfruits's addictive guitar melody. this song is also the first in a series, so if you're interested in the prisoner's backstory, you can watch the other works to find out more :-)"

ZERO TALKING

"tbf most harugoha songs are so #yuri but this one has an actual kiss. royalty x maid childhood friends who have drifted apart over the years and the royal lady (unsure of her english title, in japanese shes just named daireijo) desperately wants to just Talk to her dearest maid dorothy again but can't get anywhere with it (hence the title). In the final chorus of the MV she has enough and kisses dorothy on the lips. They're referred to as "sisters" sometimes but this is a reference to the classic catholic school yuri trope where an older girl will take in a younger one as a "younger sister" and they have a sort of romantic friendship going on. They're like definitely not actually sisters it would make no sense. It's such a good song. the bass in it is really good. please listen to harumaki gohan"

"despite the sister term scare that happened when the mv first came out this mv is about a princess and her maid who used to be friends and i believe grew apart and the princess is trying to reconnect with her friend. also first harumaki gohan mv kiss iirc!! the song is also just a brainworm in general i looped it so much it was stuck in my head for months"

"The song is about a girl who has a strained relationship with another girl, and who wishes for things to go back to the way they were (the maid doesn't talk to her anymore). The use of "sister" is also not literal, instead being a term found in yuri to describe a relationship between women (often shorten to S/esu), as well as the comparison between the two girls and the story of orihime and hikoboshi, as well as the fact they literally kiss in the song. I don't know if you can really deny it with that."

"this was in my head for weeks and weeks after it released!! the mv really makes it, the surprise near the end is so cool"

"😳"

"ZERO TALKING TALKING TALKING .Harumakigohan is the king of vocaloid yuri rn but oh my god first on-screen kiss in his songs!!! For a cute song about a princess trying to win back the affection of her childhood friend now employed as a head maid at her castle. just listen to the beat and tell me u are not enthralled. the lil "pop" noise in the song when they smooch is adorable. the song is so catchy it's ridculous i just hit that shit on loop."

[jon-withnoh]

Give me the hot Elisabeth and Rebecca takes!

Sure thing! (Oh boy this turned out long.)

Elisabeth disclaimer: this is purely based on vibes. I have some knowledge of the historical background, but it’s not really my field of study.

Rebecca disclaimer: this is my field of study and I have very strong opinions on it, though I do not claim that I am always correct. I do however maintain that I could back up many of my claims if I had the time to do proper textual analysis and read secondary sources.

I genuinely think Elisabeth (the musical as it was written) is a masterpiece. The framing device, the way certain melodies mirror each other to foreshadow events or indicate character development — it’s amazing! Plus, the music is ridiculously good. 100/10. I love this musical.

Most stagings/recordings of Elisabeth since 2012 though? More than questionable. Levay/Kunze musicals in general appear to be following a pattern where the original production and a maybe one or two productions after it are full of nuance and complexity, only to have that complexity broken down and reduced over time. That is no fault of the musical itself, but a worrying trend of not trusting audience to be able to handle nuance and trying to make every element of a production more palatable and easier to handle. I hate it. Both the 1992 and the 2005 Wien productions have so much to recommend them (I can’t speak for the German productions but would humbly turn over the questions to more Elisabeth-versed mutuals like @fitzrove), but it all seems to be going downhill.

HOT TAKE: I think bringing on more and more “Broadway-sounding” performers to do both Elisabeth and Rebecca is a mistake. For me, Levay/Kunze shows have a very specific sound to them, a sound that fits into European musical theatre and makes sense for when and where they were created. Hiring almost exclusively people with a way more modern, belt-y sound is not a direction I personally like for these shows. Don’t get me wrong, this is not about any specific performers, it’s about trying to change the sound of these shows into something more akin to a big Broadway musical and that really doesn’t work for me. Both Elisabeth and Rebecca are so idiosyncratic in how they sound and how they’re written, trying to make them fit into a mould they don’t belong in does them a disservice. (Looking at you, VBW.)

Maybe not a hot take: but I love the 2005 Wien production of Elisabeth so much. It was my first exposure to the musical and remains my go-to cast album. It certainly has faults and I totally understand why people might gravitate towards different productions, but since I haven’t listened to the full 1992 Wien and 2001 Essen (?) productions yet, I can only compare it to 2012.

REBECCA HOT TAKE: Michael Kunze has stated that he views Rebecca as first and foremost a love story and I think he is WRONG. Daphne du Maurier herself would probably think he was wrong (seeing as she hated the story being described as a romance). This is a core problem with Rebecca das Musical. There are many things to love (Danny, Danny, Beatrice, and did I mention Danny?), but in my opinion, the whole “this is a great love story” angle does it a huge disservice. Let’s make it weirder! Let’s make it as bleak as it fucking is! (Probably not a crowd pleaser but let me have my fun).

Rebecca the musical could have done with some serious editing.

The Magdeburg production of Rebecca, which I am aware was not very accessible to a lot of people, might be one of the best productions of Rebecca ever. Kerstin Ibald absolutely knocked it out of the park with her Mrs Danvers and gave her all the nuance and emotion we so desperately crave. Her Danny is so broken, so lost. Patrick Stanke’s Maxim strikes the perfect balance between the haughty upperclass Englishman who takes kind of a fatherly tone with his young wive, and the haunted, jealous husband who absolutely did murder his first wife. Also in this production Maxim and Ich finally have some chemistry! This production’s Ich (Sibylle Lambrecht, I think) has such a great character arc and it is completely believable that she is into Maxim, even (or especially??) after his confession. Plus, the set design was amazing!!!

More Rebecca hot takes that I’ve definitely brought up before: I know we all like to write Ich as a repressed queer woman who ends up not being all that into Maxim, but honestly, she probably is very attracted to him. We can speculate about the why, but like, it is strongly implied that they have sex for the first time shortly after Maxim’s confession. She wants him.

I maintain and will die on this hill that making Danny sing “Ich liebte sie, doch sie hat mich verraten” is a mistake. I mean, yes please let Danny tell us she loved Rebecca, but come on. Danny doesn’t lose her faith in Rebecca. She doesn’t stop idolising Rebecca. Whatever her reasons for setting Manderley on fire may be it’s not that she thinks Rebecca betrayed her. I don’t even think Danny thinks highly enough of herself to even consider feeling betrayed by Rebecca. Rebecca is god to her.

I definitely have more, but this post is really long and I’m running out of steam… Hope you enjoyed!

[two-white-butterflies]

you're losing me (three) | am. targaryen and j. velaryon

Description: The family reunion happens and you announce your engagement with Aemond. You realize that the Targaryens are an eccentric bunch. Rating: General Audiences Author's Note: Sorry for the Taylor erasure, I was just to lazy to come up with songs hehehe part two

You were wearing a white-satin dress that reached past your knees. It was a vintage Chanel '70 - that was certainly worth it's price. After a few hours of interviewing Aemond, you soon realized that their family was old money - coming from the very bowels of fortune, and Aemond was one of the few members that strived to be different - the few members of the family that the world knew.

You've spent a lot of time with the Old Money folks - you used to work in a country club down in Singapore. They were stingy - and stealth with their money. That observation was evident in the outfit that you wore today - nothing too flashy or bold.

"Are we ready?" he asks, and you turn to look at him. His bowtie was crooked - in a cute way. You smile, walking towards him and adjusting his bowtie. "We are." you reply, holding onto his hand while you walked down the marble staircase.

This was the life that you wanted as a teenager - a trophy wife to a rich man, not ever worrying about money or doing work. Your smile deepens, realizing that you looked amazing and sophisticated. It was a facade, but it was nice to pretend once in a while. He leads you out of the hotel room, the valet stops in front of you - flashing the paparazzi's a good view of the couple.

"I'm nervous," you admit, staring at his flashy car. Mingling with the rich was easy, but meeting the rich family of your fake boyfriend was going to be hard. A smile finds itself etched on his lips, opening the door for you to enter. "Just look pretty, my dear - that's all I want." he licked his lips, entering the car after you.

The car stopped in front of a mansion - heck, it actually looked more like castle. There were guests everywhere - and lights that illuminated the pathway that led to a zen garden. "You said family reunion." you quoted him and his lips turned into a thin line - telling you that he didn't expect this much guests either.

"My mother was quite a socialite back in the day - and all of these people were her friends." he explained, trying to regain his calm. He wasn't prepared to show you to his family's entire circle. He opened the compartment beside him - removing the emerald ring from it's box. "Now, remember the story - I proposed on the beach." he reminded and you nod.

A servant begins to open the doors to the car. "Now let's meet the vipers." he took a deep breath, plastering a fake smile on his face before exiting the vehicle and helping you do the same.

Jace wasn't expecting to see you today. The lady in white that managed to steal the heart of his uncle. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't - not when you were already over him. God knows how many times he's listened to the songs that you made about him.

A million little times.

He's only felt alive when you were the one describing him - immortalizing him with your soft melodies. His jaw clenches as he watches his uncle's hands snake around your waist, his hands were in the places that he used to be in. Aemond whispers something in your ears, and you couldn't help but giggle.

"Isn't that (Your Name)?" his mother inquires while holding a glass of champagne. Rhaenyra's eyes widen, seeing the man beside you. "Oh, Jace." she cooed, pitying him in that very situation. "I'm alright, mom." he forced himself to smile - taking a lazy sip of his champagne. Jace couldn't understand why he was missing you.

He had everything he wanted - the respect of his fellow writers, all the money in the world, and freedom. Why was he missing the shackles that he fought to remove? You told him that you wanted to teach him what forever felt like - but why was forever falling away from his fingertips? Now, you are just one of the girls that he's loved before - not the one.

Aemond begins walking in his direction - a smug grin was on his face, but there was no way that his uncle knew. "Jacey," the man teased, one hand wrapped around you - and the other wrapped around a glass of merlot. His uncle was glowing.

"Uncle Almond," Jace responded using their childhood nicknames. "Have you met this lovely lady?" Aemond tilted his head, expecting you to smile warmly at his nephew - but you gawked at the sight of Jace. You didn't know that they were related. "Uncle?" she inquired, choking on air.

"I'm too young to be an uncle, huh?" he chuckled, staring at his nephew up and down. "I didn't expect you here, (Your Name)." Jace proceeded with caution, he stared deep into your eyes - searching for the warmth that used to fill it when you looked at him. "I could say the same," you answered, grip around Aemond's back tightening.

Something shimmery in your fingers catches his eyes. An engagement ring - green, like his step-grandmother's favorite color. "Congratulations on the engagement." he smiled, feeling happy for you. Marriage was all you ever wanted - all that you desired. He was glad that you were about to have it. "Thank you," you smile, bringing the ring closer for him to view it.

"When she's the one wrapped around your arms - you can't let her go." Aemond stared at your face - basking in your glory. Jace nodded, feeling bitterness creep up his throat. "I know the feeling." he paused, taking another sip of his champagne.

He should've fought the world to have you beside him. He should've took you dancing, bowling, skating - bought you flowers everyday, but he didn't. He was blind and entitled. He didn't know what he had until it was gone. "Well - excuse us, Jacey, I believe that dinner is about to begin." Aemond smiles, pulling you away from him.

(your first name): i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings. 3 new songs out at midnight. (courtesy of the 3 sleepless nights where I was talking to @officialaemondtargaryen)

23, 912 comments 2, 903,294 likes

sharterpack: It's so nice seeing mom with a man that allows her to post him. If Jace Velaryon has 0 haters, I am dead.

ynkitten009: ya'll the lyrics were leaked 💀

(your name)'s kitten fanbase ya'll i'm sobbing because y/n wrote "i wouldn't marry me either." for jace, but she wore "i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings." for aemond 😭 JACAERYS VELARYON YOU ARE ON THIN FUCKING ICE.

wandamaximoffdefender "i find myself running home to your sweet nothings." JACE, YOU LITERALLY GAVE HER NOTHING BFFR !

PaperRingsStan13 When he's no longer her Cornelia Street, Sweet Nothing, King of My Heart, Endgame, Cruel Summer, and Peace because someone else is her Lover, Dress, and Paper Rings.

Your phone wouldn't stop buzzing, all of your fans were tagging you in their recent twitter posts. A small chuckle escapes your mouth, and you place the phone on silent mode. "You're doing a good job," he compliments, helping you sit down on your chair. "So (Your Name), should I even call you that? I think sister is much better," Helaena makes her way beside you - you smile at her.

"I think sister is much better too." you answer, and her smile deepens. "I actually love your songs," she began to rant - taking note of all the lyrical devices you used in your songs. "I hyper-fixated on them one time, and I know all of the lyrics." she exaggerated - and Aemond places himself in the middle of the both of you.

"That's enough, Helaena." he whined, seeing that the crowds were beginning to make their way towards the dinner table. His father, Viserys, clinks his glass - earning everyone's attention. "I want to make a toast to my son, Aemond, who brought us his lovely fiancee." Viserys boasted, and everyone begins clapping.

"I want everyone to eat as much as they like - and drink as much as their wives let them." he joked, and the entire crowd laughs. "Our family will only grow bigger." he smiled and everyone settled into their chairs.

part four>>

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @hotchnerswife @itsabby15 @mxxny-lupin @joliettes @kemillyfreitas @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd

[blackswaneuroparedux]

undefined

There is no beauty in Music itself, the beauty is within the listener.

- Igor Stravinsky

“The idea of The Rite of Spring came to me while I was still composing Firebird,” Igor Stravinsky recalled, 45 years after the ballet’s first performance in 1913, in his book Conversations. “I had dreamed of a scene of pagan ritual in which a chosen sacrificial virgin danced herself to death.” If Stravinsky is to be believed, this dream marked the beginning of a process that culminated in the premiere of one of the 20th century’s most important musical works.

Stravinsky’s music was meant to capture the spirit of the scenario, which he had outlined with the help of painter and ethnographer Nikolai Roerich and dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine during the spring and summer of 1910. Roerich had filled Stravinsky’s head with tales about all sorts of rituals from ancient Russia – divinations, sacrifices, dances, and so on – involving a variety of characters. The ballet that resulted revolves around the return of spring and the renewal of the earth through the sacrifice of a virgin. In his handwritten version of the story, Stravinsky described The Rite as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring….”

Stravinsky completed the score on 29 March 1913, and exactly two months later, the ballet premiered in Paris at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where it caused the famous scandal that ushered in modern music. Nijinsky’s choreography and the wild, unchecked power of Stravinsky’s score were something wholly new. Stravinsky wrote for one of his largest orchestras ever in The Rite of Spring, and he used it with an assurance and confidence one would hardly expect from a composer just out of his twenties and with only two big successes - The Firebird and Petrushka - behind him.

But those two scores, for all of their individuality and accomplishment, did not seem like they were leading to The Rite of Spring. What Stravinsky did was totally unexpected.

The stage action during the ballet’s second half, leading up to the sacrifice, was enough to capture the attention of even that raucous audience at the first performance. Finally quiet, they could hear Stravinsky’s score and watch as Maria Piltz, the dancer who played the sacrificial victim, stood motionless as the ritual unfolded around her, gradually coming to life to perform her dance, with its angular contortions and tortured motions.

What actually happened on that scandalous night will always be a mystery to some degree, because the reports contradict each other. Was it the choreography that annoyed people, or the music? Were the police really called? Was it true that missiles were thrown, and challenges to a duel offered? Were the creators booed at the end, or cheered?

The dancer Dame Marie Rambert remembered that right at the beginning ‘a shout went up in the gallery: “Un docteur!" (Call a doctor!). Somebody else shouted louder, “Un dentiste!" (a dentist!)’. The aristocrat Harry Kessler said that people started to whisper and joke almost immediately. Stravinsky himself was so angry that he stormed out and went backstage to help the dancers keep time.

What is certain is that the audience was shocked - and with good reason. Stravinsky’s score for The Rite of Spring contradicted every rule about what music should be. The sounds are often deliberately harsh, right from opening Lithuanian folk melody, which is played by the bassoon in its highest, most uncomfortable range. The music was cacophonously loud, assaulting the ears with thunderous percussion and shrieking brass. Rhythmically it was complex in a completely unprecedented way. In the ‘Ritual of the Rival Tribes’ the music unfolds in two speeds at once, in a ratio of 3:2. And it makes lavish use of dissonance, i.e. combinations of notes which don’t make normal harmonic sense. ‘The music always goes to the note next to the one you expect,’ wrote one exasperated critic.

Then there was the dance, choreographed by Nijinsky. According to some observers this was what really caused the scandal at the first night. When the curtain rose the audience saw a row of ‘knock-kneed and long-braided Lolitas jumping up and down’ as Stravinsky called them, who seemed to jerk rather than dance. Classical dance aspired upwards, in defiance of gravity, whereas Nijinsky’s dancers seemed pulled down to the earth. Their strange, stamping movements and awkward poses defied every canon of gracefulness.

Both the music and the dance of The Rite of Spring seemed to deny the possibility of human feelings, which for most people is what gives art its meaning. As Stravinsky put it, ‘there are simply no regions for soul-searching in The Rite of Spring’. This is what separates it so decisively from Stravinsky’s hit of 1911, Petrushka. There we’re immersed in a human world, which exudes the very specific cultural ambience of Russia. It’s true that the main characters are puppets, rather than rounded human beings. But they have characters, even if they’re somewhat rudimentary, and at the end there’s even a suggestion that Petrushka might have a soul.

* Pina Bausch's interpretation of Stravinksy's Rite. A masterpiece of modern dance.

[cherryrainn]

May i ask for a oneshot swf fluffy onceler x fem!reader who is pregnant? Like the song Love Story (Taylor's Version)?

of course! i wonder why this song sounds so familiar..

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— love story

onceler x pregnant!reader

link to song if you wanna listen; click here

the sun dipped below the horizon, over the meadow where you and onceler stood hand in hand. the soft breeze gently rustled the tufts of the truffula trees, creating a serene ambiance around you. it was a perfect evening, and you couldn't have asked for a more magical moment to share with the love of your life.

as the first few notes of a familiar melody played in the distance, onceler pulled you closer, resting his hand tenderly on your growing belly. the joy in his eyes was evident as he softly hummed along to the melody. the softness in his touch and the warmth of his embrace made you feel safe and loved.

"remember this, y/n?" onceler whispered, his voice filled with affection. "our love story is just starting, and i promise to be by your side every step of the way."

you smiled warmly, gazing into his eyes. "i remember it like it was yesterday. and i can't wait for the next chapter of our story, onceler."

as the music swelled, you swayed gently with onceler, feeling the rhythm of the song enveloping you. it felt like the universe itself was celebrating your love and the life growing within you.

in that moment, the worries and challenges of the world faded away, and all that mattered was the love between you and onceler. he showered you with affectionate kisses, placing them on your forehead, your cheeks, and your lips, expressing his love and devotion.

"every day, i fall in love with you all over again," onceler murmured against your lips. "seeing you carry our little miracle fills my heart with so much happiness. you're the most beautiful and incredible person I've ever known."

tears welled up in your eyes as you held onceler's face in your hands, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and the tenderness in his words. you were grateful to have found a partner who cherished you and the life you were creating together.

onceler gently guided you to a blanket spread out under a truffula tree. he carefully helped you sit down, arranging pillows to make you comfortable. with a mischievous grin, he knelt down and began singing a lullaby to your growing baby bump.

his voice, soft and soothing, filled the air, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you. onceler's song was a promise of love and protection, a melody that would forever be etched in your heart.

hours passed as you sat together, wrapped in each other's arms, talking and dreaming about the future. the conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, hopes, and plans. onceler eagerly shared his ideas for the nursery, describing whimsical designs and colorful paintings he wanted to create.

"imagine our little one all around truffula trees and vibrant flowers," onceler said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "i'll paint the walls with awesome scenes and fill the room with handmade toys! it'll be... like... a magical haven for our baby!"

you listened with adoration, amazed by onceler's creativity and dedication. his love for you and the baby was evident in every word and gesture. you couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner.

as the night grew darker, onceler suggested moving back to your shared home, wanting to provide you with even more comfort. he gently scooped you up in his arms, cradling you with ease, and carried you through the meadow.

upon arriving at your cozy home, onceler laid you down on the soft couch, propping up pillows to support your back. he disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a tray filled with your favorite snacks and a steaming cup of herbal tea known for its soothing properties.

"here you go," onceler said playfully, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of you. "a little something to make you feel better. i made sure to include all your favorites."

you chuckled softly, reaching out to take a bite of a chocolate-covered strawberry. "you think of everything, don't you?"

onceler grinned, settling down beside you on the couch. "duh! i can't wait to meet our little miracle," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "we're gonna be the best parents, ya know?"

you nodded, a radiant smile gracing your face. "i can already see the love and devotion in your eyes, onceler. our child is lucky to have you as their father."

he chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your belly. "and they're lucky to have you as their mother, y/n. you're strong, compassionate, and beautiful inside and out."

time seemed to slow down as you both sat there, lost in the enchantment of the moment. you shared dreams, hopes, and whispered promises to your unborn child, filling their world with love and anticipation.

in that moment, as the world faded away, you knew that your love story was just beginning. and with onceler by your side, you were ready to face any challenge, overcome any obstacle, and embrace the precious gift of a new life.

[visionofvoid]

Always - CS55

Summary: “right person, always.”

Warnings: heartbreak, sad carlos, mention of terminal illness/death

Pairings: carlos sainz x oc

Word Count: 660

He was all hers when the season was over. 

He was all hers when he wanted to get away. 

He was all her when family and friends were too much and he needed love from someone else. 

He was her greatest kept secret but also his biggest heartbreak. 

She was all his when the reality of his job, his name became all too much.

She was warmth, she was comfort, she was normalcy, she was home. 

“Maybe in another life.” Seemed to be the best way to describe their relationship. It would never work, it would never see the light of day beyond her tiny one bedroom apartment. He cherished the memories they shared from showing her how to cook his favourite dishes that reminded him of her youth to the two of them dancing around in her plant covered living room to the sound of Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams.

He listened as she sung off key along with the words. He loved the life she was so full of, wanting to be a reason for her to laugh, to love, to smile at.

He wanted to promise her the world. 

He wanted to watch her grow old, tell their children stories of their youth, their very own love story. 

He wanted to buy her everything she could ever desire; a beautiful sapphire ring, a house with more rooms than she could count and a greenhouse in the yard for her to continue growing all the plants she owned and more.

He wanted to watch her walk down the aisle, their families and friends being present when they became one entity. 

“Promise me, Carlos.” 

“I promise.”

He would always keep her promises. He would kill himself if he ever broke one. 

He remembered all the promises he kept. Promise me you’ll win the race, promise me you’ll take me to see this movie or that restaurant, promise me you love me, promise me you’ll move on. 

He wasn’t too sure how he could move on. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to move on. 

Carlos loved her with every ounce of his being. 

Carlos loved her more than racing, loved her more than the red suit he wore, more than paella his father made, more than the first warm sun after a cold winter, more than life itself. 

He could only visit so much throughout the season, it was one of his biggest regrets. He should have taken the year off, to spend as much time with her before it all started going downhill. 

She was always beautiful to him, no matter what. From when her long, brown wavy locks turned into a bald head, from her gorgeous voluptuous shape to her frail skin and bone. He would love her no matter what she looked like, she was always his greatest love.

He clutched on her hand, the soft melody of the first song they ever danced to playing in the background. Tears welled in his eyes as she looked down at him, her body sitting up against the pillows. 

“Carlos,” Her voice sounded so far away yet she was never closer in this moment. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her but knew this would be one of the last chances he had. “Remember me in a nice dress.” Her breath was so frail. “Remember me in the sunsets.” He felt her squeeze his hand, though it was incredibly weak. 

“I will.” A single tear dropped, rolling down his cheek. She gave a weak knowing smile. “I wish there was more time.” 

“I enjoyed all the time we shared, Carlos. Promise me, Carlos. Promise me you will fall in love, marry a beautiful girl, give her the world. Promise me.” He didn’t want to marry another, he wanted her. Her always. It would always be her. 

“I promise.” He did anyway. No matter what, he would never break a promise. 

“It’s time, Carlos. Right time, right person, always.”

[pidgefudge]

SO. i have listened to @gooboogy 's wonderful green album. and i wrote down my thoughts on each song. and now i am putting them here!!

"thoughts" being actually somewhat coherent comments that devolve into What Would This Be In A Video Game because this is me we're working with after all

and you reading this. yes you. go listen to it

verdant: oooough blorpy,,,, very cool i like. good beat it's quite foot tappable. also the name itself might be a new vocal stim. verdant. vvvverrrrrdant.

halls: much noises!! the instrumence in this scratch my brain in a good way. feels a bit like im 7 years old watchinf my brother play 2d mario stages and reimagining the music

agua: oooohh arpeggio action and a SICK beat. once again the Noises are lovely. big fan of all 3 so far but this one in particular methinks. however i have many more songs to go (!!)

doot doot: very fun i also like this one a lot :3 and coming to you from my one-track autistic mind: this album would be a fantastic game soundtrack

side note i know im writing less for some of these but thats bc im experiencing them in shapes and colors more than expressable words. trust me they're stirring the brain stew

going for a walk: i know the title is about a walk but im envisioning this as the soundtrack to a sort of road trip montage animation thing. specifically my road trip with family from san francisco to la. oh yes this ending is us finally getting to the hotel and me flopping onto the bed

forward: im liking the melody here a lot <33 this album is making me want to boot up lmms again and try my hand at original music,,, ive only ever attempted remixes (i tried to do aquarium park from sonic colors a few years ago and gave up but now i kinda wanna go back to it,,, i wonder if i was cooking) ok yes back to the actual song whoops this one is soo cool one of my faves so far

snag: i like these opening chords!! i dont know what you actually call them but the like. buildup parts?? you know?? those bits??? big fan OOH and a uh. build down (lol) bit too! also liking the sparkly chimey instrumence

blazen: OHHH YESSS this would be the theme for my favorite antagonist in the hypothetical game that i am apparently going to be referencing multiple times (dimentio and mr L came to mind immediately) absolutely jamming

beep boop: fuck yeah man it sure does OH SPOOKY NOTES OH OH COOL BEAT ASWELL i am in for a fun time this is. also the theme of my favorite antagonist. but the battle theme i think. oh hell yeah the orchestra hits. yes yes definitely battle theme. sorry for putting all these in a vgm context shfjdkfkssghf i just listen to a lot of it so thats how my brain parses instrumentals

hunt: strimgs :3 wohhh this is so cool. buzzy in a good way. golden brown triangles and other spiky shapes. that's kinda meaningless to anyone but me but. oh nice more Noises always love the Noises

overwhelm: theme for when i have a project due the next day and am swamped with other homework shdjdksfjdh

VERDANT!: once more with gusto!! loving the faster tempo. constellationy crystally instrument is particularly pleasing. oooughh so gooddddd

creepin': spacey!! im watching a crew set out in their little shuttle, oblivious to the horrors awaiting them on their station

envy: this is a boss fight that's emotionally heavy for the protagonists. perhaps fighting a former friend or mentor or team member

whomp whomp: quite a tricksy track!! some sort of haunted place,,,, maybe the place where the previous battle takes place. maybe it's actually a ghost (especially if the protagonist had some role in their death and feels crushing guilt) (bonus points if the ghost openly expresses resentment for the protag)

gromulous: the word ever. final boss' lair for sureee. yeah this song sure is gromulous. idk how else to describe it you hit the nail on the head

largemouth: oooh a bit silly but also cool guy. im thinking some sort of underground secret society/lab thing they have to infiltrate that's hiding a Sinister Secret (the big plot twist of the game) doesn't even have to physically be underground it could be a moon base situation. maybe i should just make this whole thing into a scifi space rpg

a way out: i can see this as the final boss music and as you get further in the fight it ramps up. i know i already assigned songs to the main antagonist but shhhhh. (or i can always pull a super paper mario in terms of antagonists)

under over: oh!! i love this one!! hometown theme. chill and familiar but still upbeat rather than sleepy. and it has a very strong nostalgia factor,,,,, in love with this song it might be my favorite. but there are still 3 more so!

float: this beginning is very cool im loving the vibe. dire dire docks but make it just after sunset and watch the ocean come alive with bioluminescent lights and fish raves. i guess it isnt a space game anymore. or maybe dream sequence beach episode?? WOAHHH OCEAN MAGICANT i might be cooking with this one Hold On. yesyesyes ok some sort of trip/dream where theyre shrunk down marinauts (whatever ocean prefix) as opposed to astronauts and exploring a cool coral reef/ocean floor area and talking to the sea life and woahhhhhh this would look gorgeous in pixel art. tbh this one could be in its own game considering how vivid the imagery is

outside: post-final-boss world returning to normal/person being rescued or uncorrupted/whatever magical thing happening. very fond of the bird chirps too <33 OH MUSIC BOX SOUNDS i also adore this one. i think the ending of this game is kinda bittersweet. we saved the world/person/whatever but At A Cost. this is sooooo pretty. would also transition well into credits

Green: and roll credits!! this would be the kind of credits theme i sway in my seat and contemplate the game to. the entire album is fantastic and these last few especially have been so lovely

[ice-devourer]

YOU FOOL

pairings: akutagawa/atsushi (sskk)

synopsis: morning after chapter 110 where aya saves everyone without suicide and they all survive thank you i know it's canon.

note — this came to me while i was vaping for breakfast at seven in the morning, i’m gonna be using some lines from an incoming (devil knows when) sskk art and my poetry entry in uni bc it has been about sskk from the start anyway so. cr. for divider here. might cross-post on ao3 idk yet.

cw: implied smut ig but like implied implied idk man no in and out is actually described???

there’s warmth trapped inside atsushi. he can feel its movement like a burly beast. that's how he deranges the order of reality. what’s beneath above and beside ruined through one breath. his breath. it's like a new sound is invented. and akutagawa listens in a trance and what's left outside after contact is insensible, not a single thing as urgent as holding him, ingesting every single particle—every matter that brings itself to his fingers. collecting themselves under it like dusts of light.

atsushi, and his parted mouth. atsushi, and his sweat-streaked neck. atsushi, and his heated skin. Atsushi, and his eyes that tell him that he doesn’t need him to be good—to live good, despite growing a kindness in his sickly heart that no one else could create.

Atsushi who’s a promise, in himself, that dreams will always fall short of these moments.

And these moments, that soften and soften as their movements slow, nose against cheek, palm against chest. lips easing the ache in the other.

they hold each other, close their eyes holding each other. they never said ‘i love you.’ but really, after everything else—did they really need to?

then sunrise comes.

you. you. you.

this falls in and out, in waves, in melodies, in a small tremor between his shut lips.

while lines, forms, silhouettes gather in the small slit of his fluttering eyes—the violet-grey grains discoloring the walls, the misshapen sheets. then more nuanced senses awaken, there is atsushi’s chest, rising with warm breaths that crack open more of the indulgent fatigue hugging his body.

akutagawa’s thinking looses its restraints, he could say just about anything, right now. he could mean just about anything he says right now. and that's not what he’d always like, if he’s honest, but he's unlearning the resistance to tender things. tender, in the way that soothes. tender, in the way that bruises.

“jinko,” he breathes into the nape of atsushi's neck. one, two times, “jinko, it's morning.”

atsushi stirs, feeling akutagawa’s chin lodging between hus collarbone, “mm, what, already? wait, what day is it today?”

akutagawa sighs.

“even my boss cancelled all operations for at least a week, so you can shut up about work for longer than that.”

“well, thank you for kindly sharing with the class akutagawa—”

“you just saved the world, you just saved me. rest, jinko,” he interrupts, pulling back to tug on atsushi's shoulder as he complies, rolling over to face akutagawa, “and one more snarky remark and i’ll shut you up myself”

heat rushes to atsushi's face, and akutagawa realizes what it could mean. the weretiger is more expressive than he thinks he is.

“with rashomon, i mean, i’ll shut you up with rashomon.”

atsushi glances away with a small laugh.

“honestly, rashomon did a lot worse to me, so that's pretty mild but okay—” he glances back at akutagawa, saying in a teasing tone, “— i did just save you.”

he grumbles, “don’t push it, jinko.”

“but i love it when y—i mean, it's kinda funny, you know?”

“that i’m annoyed?”

“you don't look that annoyed, akutagawa, even when you say you are,” that's not actually funny exactly, it's more of. . .endearing. but atsushi can't say that just yet.

“just be quiet,” akutagawa averts his eyes, before looking into atsushi’s, before wrapping an arm around the weretiger’s waist as his cheek plants a soft kiss on and stays on atsushi’s bare chest, “let’s rest together, i’m tired.”

then he's there, dismantled on him, the weretiger’s heartbeat filling his ears in rivulets. he hasn't forgotten how cruel this borrow life can get, but he understands strength better.

because he knows, no matter how hard this gets, when he looks up at the corner of the room, when he drinks in atsushi’s sunlight-illuminated frame and he calls his name—he can endure it all. this is how he can endure it all.

“i resent you,” he mumbles, deep in thought and tucking himself into atsushi.

atsushi’s irises drift up to the upper corner of his lids, brows raised and mouth open almost in a small smile—akutagawa always knew how to start a sentence right. right and gently. “i see, is that the end of your sentence or. . .?”

it hits the mafia’s rabid dog a little too late, “god, you’ll never hear me say that again.”

“before, i mean. but i hoped too, that if i would die, it would be by your hand. by your side. now, i stupidly hope to live the same way.”

i don’t know what you’ve done to me, akutagawa wants to say but he doesn't.

i don’t know if i deserve to give you that reason, atsushi wants to say but he doesn't.

“still calling me that, you fool?”

“yeah, yeah,” atsushi inhales his laughter in, finger ghosting his under-eye, “didn't really even try to hope that i will, you damn lawnmower.”

“if i’m the fool, let me do the foolish things—don’t ever leave me again.”

[arvandus]

Daily Drabble #4 - Music (Inumaki x GN!Reader)

WARNINGS: SFW; fluffy fluff fluff; gender neutral (no pronouns used for Reader, no physical descriptions); however, use of "beautiful" and "pretty" are used to describe Reader's singing voice.

Inumaki loves to listen to you sing. The first time he'd heard you singing, it was on accident. You were sweeping the walkway of the school with headphones in your ears, oblivious to your surroundings. He had been relaxing on the other side of the large maple tree, reading a book, when he heard you humming soft and gentle.

He set his book down and listened, a small smile blossoming on his closed lips.

Quietly, your mouth started to form the words to the melody, subconsciously singing along to the song you were listening to.

The way it made his heart quicken...

You had a pretty voice. It washed over him like sunshine, warming him from the inside out.

You never noticed him there, behind the large tree and the shrubbery. But Inumaki quickly realized that you would sweep that particular area twice a week as part of the campus maintenance. So he always managed to find the time to settle against the tree, the book in his hand, yet never opened as he listened to you.

Sometimes, the song would be different. But most of the time, he realized you hummed and sang the same song over and over again. It must have been your favorite, your most recent musical obsession.

He quickly learned to love it too. He'd find himself humming it to himself in the privacy of his room, or when he was focused on his own chores.

Your song became his song too, even though he never showed himself, even though he never told you. After all, what could he possibly say? It went beyond the limitations of his cursed speech; the words were too powerful in their own right, giving away too much of what he felt for you. He didn't want you to know he was there; he didn't want you to know he was listening. He was always quiet, always careful, settling into his spot among the roots before you ever even arrived.

So it only shocked him more when you finally caught him.

"You know that song too?" you asked as you peeked around the tree at him, the broom in your hand.

Inumaki jumped, and he could feel the instant hot rush of embarrassment at being caught. He stared at you like a deer in headlights.

You laughed gentle at him. "I heard you humming when my earbud fell out on accident."

Inumaki blanched. He hadn't realized he'd joined in on your singing; he'd been so focused on the feelings you were stirring in him, his eyes glazing over as he stared at the clouds moving across the sky.

You cocked your head at him. "Were you listening in on me?"

Inumaki wanted the ground to open him up and swallow him whole. He waved his hands in front of him and shook his head, but you raised your eyebrow at him knowingly.

He scratched his cheek and looked away, then finally offered a shrug of surrender. He was caught. No sense in hiding it...

Now you seemed embarrassed. You finally noticed the unopened book in his lap, and you realize he may have been trying to read in peace.

"Sorry," you said. "I didn't realize I was so loud."

Inumaki looked back at you and blinked his long lashes. Then he pointed at his throat and pointed at you. Then he signed a single word, his fingers fanning out and curling in front of his face in a circular motion.

"Beautiful."

Your eyes widened and your body stiffened under his praise. Then you instantly began fumbling and fidgeting, your eyes looking anywhere else but him.

"Thanks," you muttered as you tried to suppress the small smile on your lips. "I promise you the song itself is better, though..."

Then you leaned your broom against the tree and sat down next to him. You took out an earbud and handed it to him. "Here," you offered.

Inumaki took it from your fingers and placed it in his ear. You settled in next to him, your shoulder rubbing against his. You pressed play on your phone, and the music drifted forth. Silently, you sat together, listening.

But it didn't take long before you were humming along again.

"Ooh, this line is my favorite," you said, and you quietly sang along with it.

Inumaki watched you next to him, your face inches from his, as he took in how the sunlight played on your irises, lighting them up. Your mouth pulled into a smile, your lips moving. But Inumaki, despite how many times he'd heard the melody, could barely hear the words. His heart was pounding too loudly in his chest, his body too alert to all the places you were touching as his skin hummed beneath the fabric.

You realized he was staring at you, and you glanced away as your words faltered.

"Sorry, I just really like it," you said quietly. "But it's okay if it's not your thing..."

You went to take the earbud from his ear, but his hand caught yours, stopping your motion.

"Konbu," he said softly.

His fingers twined with yours, his thumb gently stroking the softness of your hand, each motion making the fluttering in your chest grow. You stared down at the gesture, your lips slightly parted, as your fingers curled around his in response.

"Takana?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

You looked up in to his lavender eyes as a small smile began to spread on your lips. Silently, you settled back against him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, as you continued to hold hands.

The song changed to the next song on your playlist, and you hummed along with it as well, unabashed. The soft low tone of Inumaki's voice began to hum as well, and you chuckled.

"You know this one too?" you asked. "how long have you been listening to me make a fool of myself??"

Inumaki's humming devolved into a low chuckle and he gave your hand a squeeze. He held up his free hand with two fingers up. You stared at it.

"Two days?"

He shook his head.

"Two weeks??"

"Ikura," he replied.

"Oh God..." you muttered and buried your face into his shoulder, embarrassed.

Inumaki gave your hand another soft squeeze and bobbed his shoulder up to get you to look up at him. When you did, you realized that he'd unzipped his uniform to show his mouth.

"Don't hide," he whispered.

His voice was barely audible, the words whispered, and it lessened the impact of his cursed speech to a gentle trickle. You felt it wash over you, easing your nerves, but it wasn't enough force your compliance. Still, you let the magic work within you, welcoming it just so you could enjoy this moment a little more.

With your anxiety muted, it was easier to feel brave. And it was easier to plainly see the entire series of events that led up to this moment - this one precious, private moment - for what it was.

After all, why else would he have secretly listened to you for two weeks straight? Why else would he be holding your hand right now?

And why else would his gaze be flitting between your eyes and your lips as if there was more that he wanted to do, communicate something bigger than his limited speech would allow?

The words fell from your mouth first; not lulled by his cursed speech, but because you wanted to say it, because every fiber in your being told you that now was the right time.

"Toge... I like you," you whispered.

You watched how the marks at the corners of his mouth shifted and moved as his lips curled into a gentle smile. Toge cupped your cheek with his hand. His touch tender, as if he still wasn't entirely sure he had your permission to allow such intimacy despite your confession. Your music still played in your ears, a private soundtrack just for the two of you, and you leaned your cheek into his hand a little more, allowing the warmth of his fingers to chase away the chill against your skin.

He leaned forward and captured your lips gently, his lips warm and smooth against yours. You felt a moment of weightlessness, the kiss surreal. You kissed him back, your hand resting against his chest to feel the heartbeat beneath it, while your own somersaulted beneath your ribs.

When he pulled away, his voice was once again feather soft, gentle like the smallest secret.

"I like you too."

[symphonybracket]

YouTube links: Tchaikovsky 6, Dvořák 9

Comments:

Dvořák 9

I know it's gonna get nominated a hundred times, but I have listened to it four times in a row in the past week so I gotta mention it. Exquisite bliss from first to last note.

it slays <3

When I heard the first movement for the first time, I was GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT because of how much I loved it. LIKE THIS IS SO YUMMY (link opens to the timestamp)

it's got everything. the interplay between minor and major. themes from the early movements that come back in the finale. the most iconic english horn solo in all of classical music. dvorak wrote it while traveling across the US and was directly inspired not only by his native czech/bohemian soundscapes but the musical languages he heard from black and native americans. there's a tuba part but it only plays for like five measures. fantastic orchestrations, making full use of all the different colors of the orchestra. the start of the finale sounds kinda like jaws. it is physically impossible for me to feel upset while i'm listening to it it's the first symphony i ever played in orchestra and i'm so normal about it that i want to get that EH solo tattooed on my art and also i wrote a paper about it for a university music history class and i got an A on it so it should definitely win the bracket or i'll cry

Tchaikovsky 6

Everyone bangs on about the 4th movement but it's the 3rd movement that really hits

tchaik 6 is what i would listen to if i had an hour to live

the 5/4 movement of the tchaik lives rent free in my mind and i think about it every day

It’s beyond gorgeous. The melodies soar, the orchestra swells, and you just need to lie down for a while after listening to it. It’s Romanticism at its zenith. You want to weep and sigh, and it’s impossible to listen to it without literally feeling something.

Symphony No. 6, titled “Pathétique”, was Tchaikovsky’s final symphony. It is an intensely emotional piece, and to many scholars demonstrates the emotional turmoil that characterized much of Tchaikovsky’s life. He died about a week after its premiere, a fact which leads many scholars to debate about whether the content of the piece itself reflects the possibility that he may have committed suicide. The title itself is often translated to mean “impassioned suffering”, although this was most likely a later addition by Modest and not actually part of Tchaikovsky’s vision. Given these facts, many scholars interpret this piece to be about death and suffering. However, this piece can also be seen to represent life and all its contrasting moments. This interpretation is more holistic and inclusive of all of the moments captured in this piece, and also serves to break down the common narrative of Tchaikovsky as a tragic figure.

More comments about Tchaikovsky 6 below the cut (length warning):

Scholarship surrounding Tchaikovsky’s music tends to focus heavily on the ways his confliction over his homoerotic desires appears in his writing. However, his personal letters reveal a much more balanced understanding of himself that goes beyond the common narrative. In one letter written to Modest describing a new relationship with another man, he writes: “I awoke today with a feeling of unknown happiness and with a complete absence of that emotional sobriety that used to make me repent in the morning for having gone too far the day before.” Many of the letters he wrote regarding his relationships demonstrate no shame and no anguish beyond what can be expected of a man living in a homophobic society. It is important to take this information into account when listening to a piece such as this one that has been discussed so frequently, and to understand it beyond the turmoil and strife that it is seen to represent. Like many of Tchaikovsky’s works, this symphony displays a range of human emotions. It is not only representative of tragedy and “impassioned suffering”; it is a depiction of what it is like to live. It is also interesting to note that this piece is used as a signifier of queer desire in the novel "Maurice" by E.M. Forster, a novel also notable for its radical portrayal of a queer man who gets a happy ending. Much to think about there.

The first movement begins with a lone bassoon soloist playing a plaintive minor melody, which later comes back in the strings. As the movement progresses, it grows in intensity and texture. More instruments are added, and the music becomes more frantic, building and building towards the dramatic trumpet fanfare. Throughout this piece, Tchaikovsky continues to make significant use of contrasting dynamics and melodies, reflecting the emotions he hopes to convey through the music. Dramatic, tumultuous sections are interspersed with pastoral woodwind melodies, and the angry brass fanfares give way to a quiet ending.

The second movement is reminiscent of a waltz, and uses the strings and woodwinds more than the brass to achieve its floating melodies. The dynamics ebb and flow to build tension, but this movement never reaches the same levels of anguish that the previous movement does. Tchaikovsky makes use of pizzicato in the strings to convey a lighter, more cheerful mood, and features the upper woodwinds prominently. He also repeats themes frequently, giving the audience something familiar to listen out for as the movement progresses.

The third movement begins with frantic energy in the strings and woodwinds. As more instruments join the rush of music, the underlying eight note accompaniment does not let up, continuing the vivacious beginning through the whole movement. Instruments pass the melodies between each other and engage in conversations across the orchestra. Like the first movement, the brass play a prominent role in creating dramatic climaxes in the music, as well as supporting the march-like conclusion. Conductor Myung-Whun Chung describes the deceptively dramatic ending as, “one of the greatest, most thrilling, but most empty of victories in musical history,” observing that this movement has the energetic finality of a final movement. The reversal of having the true finale be a slower movement represents a shift away from the “Beethovian model of light over darkness” common in most other symphonies of this time period.

As mentioned before, ending on a movement with a slow tempo was a significant shift away from the standard of the time. This innovation inspired many other future composers to use the same technique, most notably Mahler in his Ninth Symphony. The quiet beginning builds up towards a chaotic rush of fast runs throughout the orchestra, only to stop abruptly and continue in halting, cautious bursts of melody. The movement continues with this cycle of rushing up to a climax and backing away as the movement progresses. Tchaikovsky highlights the horns in this movement, giving them both angry, blaring notes which cut through the string melodies and the flowing, lyrical lines that are passed throughout the orchestra. As the piece ends, the instruments fall away until all that is left are steady repeated notes in the basses, bringing this lament of a movement to an understated close.

[higanbana-writer]

Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois

Pairing: Kyōjurō x Fem!Reader Cw: Angst, implied character death Note: Inspired by the song Honeymoon Un Deux Trois, covered by dongdang

A demon’s dying screech filled the air, shattering the once tranquil atmosphere of the forest.

Kyōjurō sighed as he sheathed his blade, watching as the body in front of him crumbled away into ashes. This wasn’t the demon he’d been sent to kill; it’d been far too weak and confrontational than the reports had described.

Glancing at the starless sky above him, he was relieved to see that there was still plenty of time into the night to continue searching for his assigned target. Not bothering to spare another look at the demon he had just killed, Kyōjurō began walking through the dark mass of trees once more. He remained on high alert, keeping a hand on the hilt of his weapon.

After what felt like a while of trekking without any sign of the demon, he suddenly noticed a small glimmer coming from up ahead. Eyes narrowing wearily, he picked up his pace until he found himself in front of one of the many trees around, neck craned to look upwards. And there, hovering among the lower branches of the tree, was a small orb of light. He could sense a faint trace of demon from it, yet it didn’t seem to be doing anything other than just…being there.  It didn’t appear to have any intention of attacking him, so what was it for? Was this perhaps the demon’s way of observing its territory remotely?

He stared at it as he thought over the possibilities, his brows knitted thoughtfully. The longer he looked at the orb, the more he began to realize that it was actually quite pretty and it seemed to emit a rather comforting glow. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kyōjurō caught sight of another shimmering orb just a few trees down. When he went over to check it out, he spotted yet another one further away. And it continued for the next few orbs he spotted, new ones seemingly popping up out of nowhere every time he neared the most recent of them.

It wasn’t long before he realized that they seemed to be leading him somewhere deeper into the forest. Though he would have preferred to find the demon on his own and catch it off guard, having the demon guide him to itself wasn’t such a bad option either. He was well aware that he was most likely walking into a trap, but he was certain he’d be able to handle whatever awaited him.

And so, he allowed the trail of orbs to guide him. The further Kyōjurō walked, the more orbs began to appear. Soon enough, they decorated the branches of the trees on each side of him, reminding him of a tree he’d seen once in a Western owned shop. A Christmas tree, that’s what the shop owner had called it. However, these golden orbs were so much more beautiful than the multi-colored bulbs of light from his memory. Everything looked so dreamy – the once dark and gloom trees now adorned with glimmering orbs of various sizes that casted a gentle glow, illuminating the path that seemed to have been set out just for him.

One foot after the other, it felt like his body was moving on its own. An irresistible urge to see what lay at the end of the light threatened to overflow from within him.

What was he here for again? Kyōjurō could have sworn it was something important. Yet, the answer seemed to slip further and further away from him as he thought about it. And in an instant, he was distracted by the faint sound of music that drifted through the air. He strained his ears to listen, his steps quickening.

As he got closer, he realized what he was hearing was the light and warm notes of a piano. Though he’d only heard the piano once before, there was no mistaking the distinctive sounds it produced. No sooner had he recognized the familiar tones, another instrument joined in on the melody – a woodwind of some sort.

It was a beautiful and captivating tune, completely foreign comparing to the traditional Japanese music he was used to. A soothing voice began to sing along to the music and it seemed to beckon him forward, towards the break through the trees he spotted up ahead.

Ah, finally. He couldn’t remember whom or what he was looking for, but he knew it lay just beyond. Without any hesitation, he threw all caution to the wind as he stepped through the trees and into a clearing.

"Everyone has gone. In our very own town, The mechanized clock Notifies us of night’s arrival."

Kyōjurō’s gaze was immediately drawn to a woman standing in the middle of the clearing, her back to him and head tilted up towards the full moon overhead. Upon hearing him, she immediately turned around and his breath caught in his throat when he glimpsed her face.

“Kyōjurō!”

While everything around him seemed hazy, as if he were in a dream, he could see that bright smile of yours as clear as day. The same smile that he’d long ago sworn to protect. Donned in a wine-colored Western styled dress and a diamond necklace that shone like stars adorning your neck, you were every bit as beautiful as he remembered.

“You’re late, you know. The music already started.” You walked up to him with an exasperated pout, though the smile remained in your eyes.

"The twilight dyes The sky the color of wine, And invites us inexperienced Two toward the stage."

“Well then, shall we dance?”

His gaze dropped down to your outstretched hand and before he knew it, his body was already moving to accept your offer. His hand slid into yours, fingers entwining with each other. Your skin felt cold and oddly smooth, almost like…porcelain. But he paid no heed to it, instead placing his other hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him. With your lips curled in delight, you settled a hand onto his shoulder.

"Chasse ‘n’ Whisk ‘n’ Natural turn I will do magic for you. Throwaway and Oversway The name of that is honey mead."

Kyōjurō had never danced before, at least not any kind of waltz. And yet, somehow, he knew exactly what to do. As he stepped forward with his left foot, you smoothly stepped backwards with your right in response. The two of you began to dance across the open space, seamlessly following along to the rhythm of the music.

"Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois, We entwine each other’s fingers. Singin’ Swingin’ Sweetest Song And play the dreams of us two."

Even in that clearing, all the trees that lined its edges were bedecked with glowing orbs which bathed the area in a soft, romantic light. But its beauty was left unappreciated by him, nothing but a blur as his gaze stayed on yours. All he could see was you and the way you looked at him with such overflowing love, as if he were your entire world. No words were spoken between the two of you, because no words were needed.

"Chasse ‘n’ Whisk ‘n’ Natural turn I will cast magic on you. Throwaway and Oversway The honey of fascination. Honey mead."

The two of you danced as one, each movement he made perfectly complimented by yours and yours with his. The skirt of your dress flared out as Kyōjurō spun you around, briefly giving you the appearance of a flower in perfect bloom. Pulling you back into his arms, time seemed to stop for a moment as he dipped you back, leaning in until your noses were almost touching and your breath ghosted across his lips. You stared up at him with eager anticipation and unable to resist that endearing look, he pressed a soft kiss against your mouth.

"Honeymoon, Un Deux Trois, I put my lips on those of yours. Singin’ Swingin’ Sweetest Song And play the dreams of us two."

It’d been so long since he’d last felt your lips upon his and though they were as cold as your hands – giving him a slight sense of unfamiliarity – he still relished every moment of the kiss. By the time he had pulled you back onto your feet, the singing had faded away and only music filled the air. So instead of going back to dancing, the two of you simply swayed to the quieting tune. Kyōjurō held you in his arms while you rested your head on him, and caught up in the moment, three words spilled past his lips before he even realized it.

“I love you.”

It came out as no louder than a whisper, but you heard him clearly, nuzzling his neck as you echoed the phrase back to him. It was such a simple exchange of affection between lovers, but to him, it meant everything. Up until that point, to hear you utter those words to him even for just one more time was something he could only desperately wish for.

“We can stay like this, you know.” You murmured, placing a loving kiss against his jaw. “Just the two of us. That’s what you’ve been yearning for, right? So stay with me. Promise me you won’t leave.”

Your voice was like honey to his ears, a smooth and sweet temptation that took every ounce of his will to resist. He swallowed hard, arms tightening around you. No matter how much he wanted to give in and remain with you, he knew that he couldn’t.

“…Please forgive me, my love.”

With a pained expression, Kyōjurō forced himself to let you go and gently push you away. He ignored the confused and hurt expression on your face, instead whirling around to face the demon that he'd sensed sneaking up on him. It was dangerously close, arm partially outstretched with its clawed hand aimed at his throat. But its eyes widened in shock when it met his.

“How-“ The demon had only been able to utter a single word before Kyōjurō unsheathed his sword and swung it up in an arc, beheading it in one smooth motion.

Both the body and head dropped with a dull thud and no more than a few seconds later, the orbs began to flicker and distort all around him. The hazy fog that had clouded his mind the entire time began to clear up as well. Something loudly clattered to the ground behind him and he couldn’t help but flinch at the sound, already instinctively knowing what it was.

Bracing himself, he slowly turned to look. You were nowhere to be seen and instead, a life-sized doll lay crumbled at the spot you had been. The red dress you had danced with him in only moments ago now hung loosely from its frame as its glass eyes stared blankly ahead. Seating himself next to it, Kyōjurō carefully took the doll’s cold hand into his own. With the glow from the orbs now gone, only the moonlight was there to shed light upon the cracks that'd begun to form along the doll's porcelain limbs, and his heart clenched painfully at the sight. He took a shaky breath as he averted his gaze, choosing to look up at the moon instead.

“I’m sorry, but please wait for me a little bit longer.” He whispered, praying that his words would reach you somewhere up there. “I.. I cannot join you just yet.”

He could feel it now, the way the hand he held had begun to disintegrate. He looked down just in time to see the remaining fingertips crumble away, his hand left grasping at nothing but air.

This was almost too much to bear. Kyōjurō hadn’t expected this to be as painful as the first time he had let you go. It was just a doll, the mere product of some demon’s Blood Art. And yet, he felt so empty and powerless as it slowly vanished in front of his very eyes.

He watched as the last of the ashes rose up into the sky, leaving him with nothing but the shattered fragments of an already fading dream.

[i-am-baechu]

♡ Summary: Rebuilding your marriage is never easy but slowly falling in love again is worth it. When you spend the morning thinking about the tee shirt they're sleeping in or spending all day listening to their voice messages just to hear their voice...That’s how you know, it was worth it. 

♡ Paring: Established relationship; Non-idol!, CEO Jin x Wife! reader 

♡ Rating: Pg-14

♡ Genre: Established relationship, one mention of a sexual experience, swearing, healing, a little angst, and fluff

♡ Based on the one-shot; Already Mine 

Y/N knew an apology and kiss weren’t going to fix everything between her and Jin but it was the start of something. The start of healing. That night when they confessed their feelings (even the bad ones), Jin took her home and showed her how much he truly loved her. It wasn’t like the movies, where the violin and piano dominated the scene instead it was an unorganized melody. It was like they were having sex for the first time, the nervousness that can be felt through the skin and the constant questions made her remember everything. The shaky hands as Jin pushed her hair back to place a kiss on her forehead and the way she cupped his face to give him a kiss that would change any frog. It may not be perfect for the movies but to them, it was everything they could ask for. 

That was just the beginning of everything. Jin was quick to get a marriage counselor and even got Y/N a therapist to express her depression. She was shocked at how quickly he was moving but it showed that he meant every word that night. They were also spending more time as a family. To the point where Jihan recognized Jin one day and he burst into tears, it’s been so long since he felt wanted by his daughter.  Even the guys were helping out more so Jin and Y/N can spend more time together.

After two months of their rekindling, Jin sadly had to go on a business meeting in Florida. Y/N was saddened by the sudden news but she understood that he had to go. She was scared that the feelings that she was getting back would disappear when he left, it was scary. What if she was only feeling this way because Jin was there? If he left, would things change? Jihan and Jin were bonding to the point that if Jin left the room, she would cry for him. What if Jihan forgets him? It was a lot of feelings to have and she didn’t voice it to Jin. She didn’t want him stressing about her feelings before the big meeting. 

It’s been a week since Jin left and every day, he sent a voice message to her. He would tell her how much he missed her and Jihan but something they used to do in college, he would describe the scenery around them. In college whenever they spent time away because of classes, they would describe the classroom and the lesson itself (even if it wasn’t their major). It felt like she was there with him and vice versa. 

This morning, Y/N woke up and looked at Jin’s side with a frown. She placed her hand on his pillow and gently rubbed the white fabric. Normally she would push his hair back and kiss his forehead to wake him up. They would cuddle in bed as they talk about their dreams and then Jin would get Jihan bringing her into bed with them. It was a peaceful way to start the morning.

She wondered what he was wearing in bed. If he was wearing his cartoon pajama set or even his plain white tee shirt that he would let her wear. It was so strange to miss a piece of fabric that wasn’t hers but here she was. She slowly turned around and took her phone off the charger and smiled when she saw that Jin sent his daily messages. She opened the message up and brought the phone to her ear, “Hey, baby. It’s raining here and it made me think about our date in college. When it was our third date and we got sick together but we didn’t care...it was so much fun. Anyways, I’m in the hotel lobby and there’s a large fish tank. I just know that Jihan would love to see them swim. How are you doing? I miss you guys so much that I can’t even describe it. I just miss your warmth. I know you're sleeping so, I’ll leave you. I love you guys so much. Y/N, my wife, I love you forever.”

She smiled and felt her heart flutter at his voice. Even though everyday she gets these voice messages, it still makes her excited. She brought her phone to her mouth to send to him, “Hey babe. I just woke up and I was thinking of you...I was thinking of what you're wearing in bed and how much I miss your cartoon pajama set. I know it's stupid but I just miss it. Yesterday Jihan drew a picture, it was mostly scribbles but she was trying to say dada when she pointed at the picture. She misses you so much babe. This morning is foggy but I read online that it's going to be hot so, I’ll soak in the sun for you. I miss you so much. I love you forever, my husband.” 

She clicked the little blue arrow and watched her message. She put her phone in her pocket and got out of bed. She took a quick shower thinking about Jin’s voice and how soft it sounded through her phone. She got dressed in a light pink dress and went inside Jihan’s room. She smiled when she saw her baby giving her a gummy smile waiting to be picked up. She gently picked her up and kissed her cheek, “Good morning, my little astronaut.” Jihan nuzzled her face into her neck as she rubbed her back. 

They headed downstairs and she placed Jihan in her highchair. She turned around to get her milk ready when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She quickly took the phone out in excitement and answered it (knowing who it was), “Hey you.”

“Hey baby.”

She tilted her head when she saw his face and felt her chest lighter when she saw his smile, “Want to see Jihan?”

“In a minute, I just want to see my wife.”

Y/N let out a small laugh and shook her head, “You look so tired, Jin.” 

“I am...I haven’t been sleeping because I miss you so much.”

“Jin, you still need to sleep.” 

He sighed and moved his body upwards on the headboard. He glanced outside and then back at her, “It’s hard. I hug a pillow and it doesn’t feel the same. Especially since I can’t squeeze your-”

“Jin! Jihan is in the room.”

He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh, “She doesn't know what I’m saying. Anyways, let me see my little girl.”

She nodded her head and went towards Jihan, “Jihan, baby, look it’s daddy.” Obviously, Jihan didn’t answer but she knew the word daddy. She started giggling and when Y/N put Jihan in the frame she pointed at Jin, “Yeah, it's daddy.” 

“Jihan, baby. Daddy misses you so much.”

Jihan waved at the phone and looked up at Y/N with her gummy smile, “Yeah, daddy. Can you say dada.” Jihan glanced at Jin and then back at Y/N with her fist in her mouth. Y/N let out a small laugh and kissed her head, “She’s trying her best.” 

“She’ll get it one day. No rush.” 

“I know. I just-”

“Da.” 

Y/N glanced at Jihan who pointed at the phone and Y/N nodded her head. She kissed the top of her head, “Very good baby. That’s dada.” She looked back at the phone to see Jin tearing up and her eyes widened at him, “Jin, what’s wrong?” 

He shook his head and the biggest smile appeared on his face, “I’m so happy. I-I just never thought we would be here together again.”

She softly smiled at him, “We're healing, together.” 

“Thank you for staying by my side...I love you guys so much.”

“Jin, I love you with all my heart and soul.”

He smiled at this and glanced at the window, “It stopped raining. I think your confession made it stop. That’s my wife.”

She rolled her eyes and kissed Jihan’s head, “Shut up...” 

He sighed and looked at the clock next to him, “I have to go. I have another meeting. I’ll send you a voice message after I’m done with it.” 

“Don’t work too hard. I love you, Jin.”

“I love you guys so much more. Bye.”

“Bye.” 

He disappeared from her screen and she frowned to herself. She was already missing him. She looked at Jihan and then back at her phone. She was falling back in love with her husband and life feels like a fairytale. Everything happens for a reason and she was so glad that she was given that second chance. She leaned forward and kissed Jihan cheek, “I love you so much.” Jihan giggled at this and kissed Y/N’s cheek messily making Y/N laugh. Life is good.