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felassan · 4 years ago

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Mass Effect development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

This is the Mass Effect version of this post.

[In case you can’t read it the subtitle in the bottom left logo above is “Guardians of the Citadel”]

Note: Drug use is mentioned.

Cut for length.

Mass Effect 1

ME began its life in a vision document in fall 2003

Codenamed “SFX”

Conceived of by Casey Hudson and a core team from KotOR. Its genesis was the intention to create an epic sci-fi RPG in an original setting that BioWare owned (so they could have full creative control), and in a setting that was conceived of first and foremost as a video game

Initially players could control any squadmate, but they wanted it to be about Shep and for players to be focused on Shep being a battlefield commander, rather than on switching bodies

By the start of 2004 its story was shaping up. Initially humans landed on Mars in 2250 and discovered evidence of an ancient alien race and a powerful substance, Black Sand, which rapidly advanced tech to the point that FTL travel was possible. (My note: obviously now the Prothean artifacts on Mars & associated mass effect force tech enabled this in the final canon, but I wonder if aspects of the ‘Black Sand’ naming-type & powerful substance stuff was rolled into red sand from final canon) Humans were suddenly capable of travel to multiple star systems and made contact with a multitude of other species. At the start of the first game, these species together with humans had a fragile peace, with focus placed on the political center of the galaxy, a hub known as Star City, later renamed the Citadel

Multiplayer was a vision for the series as far back as 2003. The plan was for ME1, an Xbox exclusive at launch, to take advantage of the platform’s online components. Early designs saw players meeting in one of the central hubs to interact and trade items in their otherwise SP adventures

By 2006 it had the name ME and the story was more specific, with the theme of conflict between organic and synthetic lifeforms. The story’s scope now stretched across 3 games and included scope for full co-op MP

They tried to do MP in every game, discussing it from the get-go, but it always just fell by the wayside. “When you’re trying to build something that is a new IP, on a new platform, with a new engine, you’ve got to really focus on the core elements of the game.”

The conversation system prototype was made in Jade Empire, and some of ME’s earliest writing was done in an old JE build. At first there was no conversation wheel. Paragon was “Friendly” and Renegade “Hostile”. In the prototype Shep was a silent unnamed Spectre. Many conversations in the prototype about the player’s choice in smuggling a weapon through Noveria made it into the game

In said prototype a merchant referred to themselves as “this one��, though the word hanar never appeared. The PC in it also had the option to end a conversation with “I should go”. In the prototype also, Harkin was voiced by Mark Meer

An early version of the Mako got used as the krogan truck in ME2

Early concepts of the Citadel were drawn in pencil by CH. A piece of concept art of its final design was painted based on a photo of a sculpture near Aswan, Egypt

As with any new IP naming it was a struggle. They put out a call to all staff for ideas, did polls, made a name generator that combined words that they liked in random ways and made pretend logos of ones they liked in Photoshop to see if they could make themselves love the name or find visual potential in it. (Some of these names are in the pic at the top of this post.) CH liked “Unearthed” as it was a reference to Prothean ruins dug up on Mars and humanity’s ascendance going away from Earth. They knew the game would have a central space station featuring prominently so some of the ideas were based on that - “The Citadel”, “The Optigon”, “The Oculon”. “Element” was another one they had in mind due to the rare substance in the game

CH: “I was a big fan of John Harris’ book Mass, which had epic-scaled sci-fi ideas, so that was a word that came up often. Many of the names came from the idea that the IP featured a fifth fundamental physical force (in addition to the known four of gravitational, electromagnetic, strong nuclear and weak nuclear) so the word ‘effect’ came up pretty often.” Ultimately none of the ideas really felt right. One Monday morning they were going over the names and Greg Zeschuk said he had an idea on the weekend: “Mass Effect!” CH: “I said, ‘I don’t hate it’, which in the naming process is a high compliment. And it stuck!”

CH on Shep’s Prothean vision from the beacon: “It was hard to imagine how we would do this. CG was - and is - really expensive. Instead I wanted to try doing it through photography and video editing. So I went to a local grocery store and bought a few packages of the weirdest looking meat that I could find. Then I set up a little photoshoot in my basement, complete with some electronics parts and some red wine for juicyness.” He used these props to create a video sequence where the photos were rapidly cycled and blurred, along with production paintings, to create the scary vision an organic/machine experiment on the Protheans. These mashups were also used as inspiration for concept artists and level designers who were working on these themes

Tali used to be called Talsi

On the licensing side they often joke that they’re licensing N7 not “Mass Effect” due to N7′s popularity

There was a confidential internal guide to the IP in 2007 to help devs along and summarize/synthesize the vision etc. Some excerpts from it are shown in the book and this is the first time the public have ever seen them

Early versions of Asari had hair

Asari were designed as a nod to classic TV sci-fi (with human actors wearing obvious makeup and prosthetics to play aliens)

The turian design guideline was “we want them to be birds of prey”. They also wanted a range of alien types, some close to human like Asari, while others were to be a lot further away, like turians

BioWare patented the conversation wheel, which was a first for them. CH had been frustrated with reviews of Jade Empire that said that the actioncentric game was too wordy [with its list dialogue]. “I’m like, story is words. [...] What is it about our games that is making people feel like they’re wordy?” Then he thought “In a game you kind of need to feel like you’re continuing to play it. Maybe you should continue feeling like you’re playing it actively into the dialogue.” “[The wheel] kind of gave a new experience with dialogue when you did start to react based on emotion, and that’s ultimately what we’re trying to bring out in our games”

The original krogan concept was based on a bat “with a really wide squidgy face. We just used its face on top of this weird body and it kinda worked”

Geth musculature was based on fiber-optic cables, with flexible plates of armor attached

The vision for the IP was 80s sci-fi inspired space opera

The concept art of Saren lifting Shep by the throat inspired a similar scene in-game. The staging wasn’t planned til designers saw that art

A squadmate with Shepard on the way to meet Ash in an old storyboard was called Carter. Early name of Kaidan or Jenkins?

Bono from U2 was kinda instrumental in bringing us ME lol

Finding the right cover art for ME1 was notably tricky

Matt Rhodes got his start drawing helmets for ME1, including one which would become Shep’s “second face”. He estimates he drew between 250-270 different ones

Some of the sounds in-game were people smashing watermelons with sledgehammers and sticking fists into various goos

The audio team had fun trying to slip the iconic main theme into unexpected places throughout the MET. “We were very aware of how powerful that track was for the fans and it was tempting to overuse it for any moment we wanted to make really emotional”.

The theme was creatively repurposed in ME3: slowed down and reworked as the ambient sound for the SR-2. “If you listen to it for a really long time, just stand in the Normandy and listen, you’ll actually hear the notes change slowly. It doesn’t sound like music, it sounds like a background ambiance, but it’s there.” (My note: Well no wonder the Normandy feels so much like home?? 😭 sneaky..)

Bug report: “Mako Tornado”. There wasn’t enough friction between the tires and the ground, causing testers to lose control of the vehicle and send it spinning into the air like a tornado. “As it turns, the front end comes up, and then it starts spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning faster and faster and faster until it just flies up in the sky” (My note: Sounds like a regular day in the Mako to me)

Cerberus originally had a bigger role in this game. It was cut but they had a whole explorable outpost. “I called it Misery,” says Mac Walters, “It was this planet with a little outpost that said ‘Welcome to Misery’”. Everything on the outpost was shit - dirty worn stuff, no windows, no kitchen, the vehicle bay was open to the elements etc

The Reaper sound is literal garbage. Some audio designers went on a recording trip to a national park. One of them got fixated on a garbage can, “a metal bear-proof receptacle with a heavy lid that creaked horribly when opened”. “It was like, ominous, spooky, tonal and almost musical. I decided to throw a mic into the garbage and record it moving. I didn’t know what it was going to be until later”

They were making lots of noises to record like throwing logs and rocks around. An old couple peered at them through the window of their camper van in the woods and must have called the cops because then the cops showed up, pulled them over and told them to stop. The cops towed their car (the driver’s plates were Cali plates and expired), drove them to Edmonton outskirts and then the audio producer Shauna got a call and had to go pick them up “like three little boys”. “We got a stern talking to”. Once back they were playing around with the garbage sound, editing it etc. Casey heard it and proclaimed “That’s the sound of the Reapers”

Preston Watamaniuk: “There are things I could have done to Mass 1 to make it an infinitely better game with better UIs” and some simple cuts and changes. “But when you’re living with it, it’s very hard to see those things”

BioWare Labs

As social media and smartphone games exploded, BioWare dedicated a small team dedicated to exploring opportunities here - BioWare Labs

Mass Effect: Galaxy used a unique graphic art style and static visual presentation common in visual novels. It has the distinction of being the only iOS game BW have made during their first 25 years

Scrapped ideas were a 3rd person space shooter called Mass Effect: Corsair and 2 DA titles - a strategy game and a top-down dungeon crawler starring young Wynne. (My note: Maybe the corsairs stuff was rolled into Jacob’s backstory in 2, the Alliance Corsairs)

Corsair was a very short-lived project that never got its feet under it. It was a spin-off on Nintendo DS featuring a behind-the-ship perspective and branching dialogue. At one point it had MP. The idea behind it was basically “ME: Freelancer” - fly your ship around, do missions, get credits. It had a limited branching story but was a gameplay-centered experience intended to fill the gap between ME1 and 2. That gap ended up being filled by Galaxy

Galaxy and Corsair’s smaller screen allowed concept artists to use bold colors and a simplistic character design style to help those games stand out from Shep’s story

Nick Thornborrow did some art for Corsair but was worried his art style didn’t fit ME. He moved to DA where he feels his art style fits better

Lots of BioWare VAs and even a lead writer and the VO director are drawn from Edmonton’s local community theater scene, which is vibrant. Think this is how Mark Meer got involved

Mass Effect 2

Player choices carrying over was a first for BW

Dirty Dozen-inspired plot

Its plot is a web of conditionals (see Suicide Mission)

Was more of a shooter than anything BW had made since Shattered Steel

There was 2 camps on the team, those who wanted to push combat and systems forward and redefine the ME experience and those who wanted to make a true sequel, with the same gameplay and systems but a new story. Karin Weekes: “I think it ended up being a good push-pull. It felt like a pretty healthy creative conflict”

“ME2 was a game you could hold up to someone who argues that games aren’t a serious medium and go ‘Oh yeah, then why is Martin Sheen in this?’” Sheen was their first pick for TIM

The idea for TIM came from a mash-up of concepts CH had collected over the years. The name “Illusive” originally came from his pitch for naming DAO’s Eclipse engine, a word inspired by Obi-Wan’s line “It’s not about the mission, Master. It’s something... elsewhere. Elusive”. “I thought, what if we called our next engine 'Elusive', but used an ‘I’, and then it’s like ‘Illusion’. [...] I still really like the word with an ‘I’ and what it conjures”

When ME1 DLC was in production, CH had been watching a lot of CNN, specifically Anderson Cooper. “How is one guy travelling to all these places and never looking tired and always being able to speak with clarity?” CH says it seemed almost superhuman. “What if there was someone who is the absolute maximum of the things you would aspire to be, but also the worst of humanity?” Cooper, though not evil, became an inspiration for TIM down to the gray hair and piercing blue eyes

Inspiration for TIM’s behind-the-scenes role pulling political strings came from Jack Bauer’s brother Graem in 24. Graem “can call up the president and tell him what to do and hang up, because he’s so connected and so influential”. Sheen had played a president and his performance brought gravitas and wisdom to the role. He had quit smoking, but the character smokes. He didn’t want to fake it, but he also didn’t want to smoke, “so he actually asked for a cigarette” to hold so he could stop his words to take drags with natural cadence

Writing was still pushing to write and revise lines hours before VO started. A series of problems like injury and some writers leaving for other opportunities left it so that Karin, Lukas Kristjanson and editor Cookie Everman hand to land the story safely, with PW helping where they could. Lukas: “We took over the writing bug and task list, and I can’t stress enough how much [Karin and Cookie] did to get ME2 out the door. There’s no part of that thing we didn’t touch”. Karin: “That was the most dramatic 2 weeks of my life”

Initial fan reaction when they started promo-ing ME2 was very negative because people didn’t want to know about new chars like Jack and Mordin. “[fans were like] ‘Get them out of here. We want our characters from the first game’. But then when they played them, those became some of the most popular chars [of the series]”

Concept art of Thane has an idea annotation saying “Face can shapeshift?”

At one point when designing Thane concept artists sent multiple variations of him to the team asking them to vote on which was the most attractive

Most of the Normandy crew was written by lead level designer Dusty Everman. Lukas gave him advice in the evenings between bugs

BioWare Montreal made ME2 and 3 cinematics

CC for Shep was based on tools used by char designers to create in-game chars. Under the hood similar tools existed to create aliens

Aliens were much easier to animate than humans. When something is human it’s very difficult to make it look realistic and you can see all the mistakes and everything

Over the holiday period in 2007 CH worked out a diagram on a single piece of paper that would define the entire scope and structure of the game. The diagram is included in the book

Bug report: “I shot a krogan so hard that his textures fell off”. At one point shotgun blast damage was applied to each of the pellets fired, and shot enemies ended up with just the default checkerboard Unreal texture on them after their textures got blown off

Blasto was meant to be 1 step above an Easter egg but his fan popularity prompted them to bring him back in ME3

They rewrote chunks of Jack 2 days before she went to VO. She was the only one they could change because all the other NPCs were recorded. They redesigned her mission by juggling locked NPC lines and changing Shep’s reactions by rewriting text paraphrases to change the context of the already-recorded VO

Lukas snuck obscure nods ito ME2′s distress calls. In the general distress call for the Hugo Gernsback, there’s BW’s initial’s and Edmonton’s phone number backwards. In a fault in a beacon protocol there’s the initials and backward phone number from Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny”. In 2 other general distress calls there’s initials and numbers from Glenn Miller Orchestra’s “Pennsylvania 6-5000″ and initials and numbers from Geddy Lee and Rush’s “2112″ respectively

Mass Effect 3

“The end of an era marks the beginning of another”

ME3 “marked the end of Shep’s story”

Saying bye to Shep was as difficult for devs as it was for players

JHale’s final VO session included Anderson’s death and romanced Garrus’ goodbye. “We were in the session and we both just started crying”, Caroline says. “I couldn’t come on the line to give her notes because I was crying, and she was crying. And so there was just this minute-long pause of like, nothing, nothing, nothing - just silence through the airwaves. And then I came on and just told her that I was crying and she said ‘I’m crying!’” They talked about these anecdotes also here on the N7 Day reunion panel

The Microsoft Kinect voice support required devs to teach Kinect hundreds of commands in a variety of accents across multiple languages. The result was useful but made for some awkward moments. Numerous players accidentally said “geth” or “quarian” while making a particular decision and accidentally killed Tali

MP chars were voiced by cops and military people

The helmet on one of the MP chars was originally designed for cancelled project Revolver

The payload device at the end needed to attach to the Citadel while essentially serving as a giant trigger. “It ended up becoming quite the engineering feet just to visualize how this thing would move and connect to the Citadel”

Concept artists explored creating an anti-team, where Kai Leng was almost an anti-Shepard essentially, with an elite squad to counteract your team. This idea never went beyond concept phase

ME3 Special Edition was released on Nintendo Wii U exclusively. This exclusive version of the game includes Genesis 2 (a sequel to the original Genesis comic) and unique gameplay features that took advantage of the touchscreen GamePad. For years Sonic Chronicles: Dark Brotherhood had had the honor of being BW’s only game made for a Nintendo console

FemShep regrettably didn’t feature in major ME marketing til ME3. Later releases like DAI, MEA and Anthem have taken increasing care not to gender their protagonists in cover art

To capture combat sounds they took a trip to CFB Wainwright, a military base southeast of Edmonton. They got a big tour of it and were allowed to record anything they could find. The tour ended with them getting to drive and shoot tanks (real shells). The force of doing that sent waves through Joel Green, he felt his whole chest compress when it went off; the perfect sound for the Black Widow! After the trip the soldiers let him keep the shell he fired and it’s been passed on like a torch to various devs since

Kakliosaurs began life as a joke in the writers’ room after John Dombrow placed a Grunt figure on a t-rex toy he had on his desk. Lore was brainstormed to justify the mash-up before someone asked, “Why don’t we put this in the game?” They loved it so much Karin had custom coffee mugs made

Bug report: For a while Tali’s final romance scene would fire when she was supposed to be dead

“Balancing combat: how designers in ME3 entered an ‘arms race’” - the solution to players feeling OP vs players feeling frustrated by really strong enemies is to find a good middle ground, but for designers Corey Gaspur and Brenon Holmes, it was war. Brenon designed enemies, Corey designed guns. Corey “was obsessed with bigger, heavier guns. We had this sort of informal competition where he’d make this crazy overturned gun that would just murder all the enemies, and then I tuned some stuff up to compensate”

Brenon had to invent new ways to “stop Corey” and this led to the Phantoms. Corey had in turn designed consumable rockets that could wipe out entire waves of enemies. He must’ve figured this would make short work of Brenon’s space ninjas, but Brenon had other plans: “I had just added the ability for her to cut rockets [when Corey was playing MP and he was watching]. She cut the rocket in half... Corey just turns and looks at me and is like: ‘Really dude? I just shot a rocket at this Phantom and she’s fine? Not even damaged? Zero damage?’”

This friendly rivalry helped elevate ME3′s gameplay. Corey had a knack for making a gun feel so good to fire it had his fellow designers scrambling to keep up. It was his version of balancing. Before Corey sadly passed away he mentored Boldwin Li in all things weapon design and the arms race continued

Corey designed the Arc Pistol. It was causing problems for enemies because it was too powerful. It seemed hell bent on staying that way, Boldwin would tune down all its stats and it was still doing 3x the damage it should have been doing. “I was like ‘What the hell?’, and then I looked closer. It secretly fired 3 bullets for every pull of the trigger! Corey, you sneaky jerk”

The day it launched there were midnight launch parties across North America including one near the BW building. Numerous devs sat at long tables greeting fans and signing autographs as the fans picked up preorders. When midnight struck the line was long enough that it took several hours for some fans to get their game. One particular fan is remembered: “It was 3am. Some guy drove up from Calgary with his friends. He was like one of the last people in line. I think he was sort of tired-drunk. He threw himself across the tables, pulled up his shirt and shouted ‘Guys, sign my abs!’ And like I did, because he waited so long. It felt impolite not to. So I hope he enjoyed his copy of ME3″

For designing Protheans concept artists had free reign to design something that read as ancient

Before the concept art team had the story of the game to work toward, they explored wild ideas of their own including an image of the crew stealing back the Normandy to go after the Reapers

Jen Cheverie was testing scenes and was initially excited to be testing Mordin scenes, til she saw she was testing the Renegade version of his death. “This is even before like all of the audio and everything was in, so you didn’t even have the sad music. I remember sitting at my desk and my hands just went to my face when I saw that the gun Shep pulls on Mordin is the gun he gives Shep in ME2. I burst into tears and was crying for the rest of the day. People are waving to me as they walk by and I’m like, ‘It’s ok, I’m just killing my best friend’”

There’s a segment called “Shepard’s story ends”. Casey on the ending: “There’s a whole bunch of things that come together to make it incredibly tense and emotional for players. I think the biggest one was the sense of finality, that whatever it was that happened in that very last moment... was it.”

Wrapping up the story was a massive feat. In a way all of ME3 is an ending. Its final moments were the players’ last with a char they’d been with all the way from Eden Prime

“And while the critical reception of the game was extremely positive, many fans were unsatisfied with the ending, which became one of the most controversial in the history of games.” CH: “We were, on one hand, at the end of a marathon trying to finish the game and the series. But as devs we also knew that there would be more. We knew that we would continue to tell the story. In retrospect, we didn’t fully appreciate the tremendous sense of finality that it would have for people”. He envisioned an ending that posed new questions, something in the tradition of high sci-fi that left players dreaming about what that particular galaxy’s future could hold. “Frankly, there’s a lot more that we could have and should have done to honor the work players put in, to give them a stronger sense of reward and closure”

AAA games are massive undertakings with a million moving parts. Somehow they come together but even the best-planned projects don’t turn out quite like devs hope. From start to end video game production is a series of compromises. It’s rare if not impossible for devs to ship a game they’re entirely happy with. “I think that people imagine that when you finish a game, it’s exactly the way you wanted it to be. But whether people end up loving or hating the final result, we work hard to finish it the best we can, knowing that there’s a lot we would have wanted to do better. I think that’s true of any creative work”

As the dust settled after the initial reaction to the ending and later its epilogue, meant to show the wide-reaching ripple effects of Shep’s final choice, “players emerged mostly asking for one thing”. CH: “Now, most of what we hear, after both ME3 and MEA, is ‘Hey, just go make more Mass Effect’. And that to me is the most important thing. Knowing that players want to return to the ME universe is what inspires us to press on and imagine what comes next”

Mass Effect: Andromeda

By creating a new ME in a new galaxy the team was challenged to put their own visual stamp on the game while keeping it true to the franchise

Being the first ME game on a new gen of consoles meant for more detail

“Massive transport ships called arks populated with salarians, turians, humans, asari and quarians” made the risky jump to the Cluster

MEA was the first time BW had truly codeveloped across 3 studios: Edmonton, Montreal and Austin. The bulk of the work especially early on was done in Montreal, which was composed of a handful of Edmonton expats and heaps of experienced devs who joined from elsewhere specifically to bring a new ME experience to life. Series vets in Edmonton then came on to contribute writing, cinematics, design and QA, along with leadership from creative director Mac Walters and the core Production team. Austin writers and level designers also joined the fray

“It took a new team to take ME beyond the Milky Way”

Mac: “A lot of people in Montreal joined BW as fans of the franchise, so they just had this passion, and it felt like it was more like the days of Jade Empire, where a smaller younger team gets to do something for the first time. Even though it wasn’t necessarily a new IP for me, it felt fresh and new because of that. The team was just super excited to be working on it”

Early plans had the player exploring hundreds of worlds, procedurally generated, allowing for a nearly infinite variety of experiences. But as development wore on, it became clear that the game narrative required more specific, hand-touched level design on each world to keep the story focused and the experience engaging. “The plan was to give players numerous uncharted worlds to explore. Designers worked hard to come up with procedural elements that would make such planets special. Eventually the team made the difficult decision to abandon procedural planets in favor of more memorable hand-touched alien worlds, each with a specific story to tell”

One challenge was defining what ME meant without Shep. Care was given to include many of the MET’s key species. “Ryder recruited turian, asari, krogan and salarian followers”. Like Shep Ryder represents humanity’s hope for a peaceful coexistence among aliens who had long operated without human contact

Beginning with MEA the team decided that with few exceptions vehicles in ME have 6 wheels. Early Nomad concepts were bulkier. Later ones focused on its ability to move over its ability to protect itself from hostile fire, underlining the themes of exploration

German concept designer and auto-motive futurist Daniel Simon was contracted to create the Nomad and Tempest. The Tempest’s final design took inspo from the Concorde

Concepts for angaran fighter ships have the following notes: “Two doors swing open, wings rotate down to function as landing struts, the landing struts split open. It has a spinning turbine engine

Despite being set a galaxy away and some 600 years after Mordin’s death, there was a time when he had a cameo. It wasn’t cut due to running out of time however, it was cut due to drug references. John Dombrow explains: “One day I had to write a small quest for Kadara. I thought it’d be amusing if these 2 guys living way out on the fringes in a shack were growing plants for uh, medicinal purposes, and needed Ryder’s help with it. It occurred to me, wouldn’t it be amusing if Ryder had the option of actually trying ‘the medicine’ to see what would happen? And I thought, what if it turned into some hallucination that somehow involved SAM - like maybe SAM would sing? But why? How could I motivate that? Then it hit me. Who else in the ME game sings unexpectedly? MORDIN. As a nod to him I wrote SAM singing Modern Major-General. It got even better when our cine designer John Ebenger wanted to take it even further. Bless him, he came in on a Saturday to do a special hallucination showing Mordin himself. It was great. Til the fateful day we were told MEA had already been submitted to the ratings board. That’s when you declare things like drug references in your game. Mordin fell under that category which meant it was a no-go. We were too late”

Ryder’s white AI armor contrasts Shep’s iconic dark armor (intentional design)

Concept art for Ryder involved experiments with cloth (cloaks, ponchos, capes - “Pull here to release cloak”) and asymmetrical design elements

For alien design, there’s a few exceptions but humanoid figures are the ME standard and this persisted into MEA

Kett and angara concepts explored striking lines and textures

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

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parcoeurs · 3 years ago

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Extremely fascinated by your wag AU tag 👀.

thanks bestie so am i.

okay lmao so this isn't an actual fic that'll ever be written but. i was talking to my friend about it who still hasn't finished dts season 3 unfortunately but it means that i've switched around ages and years etc. i promise this has the potential to be a fun and sexy time but there's just s o much background shit that needs to be discussed. tw for mentions of irl deaths etc:

but pierre & charles meeting when they're 5-6 (which is what i think charles actually says irl but someone said it might've been closer to when they were 10-11? regardless.) and charles' dad passes away when they're 9-10, and jules when they're 13-14 and charles quits racing then. (fyi i know that irl jules passed away first)

he thinks about quitting when his dad passes away but keeps going with help from jules. so when the accident etc happens, it's not even like an active decision he ponders. he just knows there's no way he'll race again.

and pierre's been with him throughout everything, his best friend who he can talk to when he can't bear looking at his own family. so he doesn't understand when pierre tells him he's going to keep racing. when charles had told him he was never going to get into a kart ever again, pierre had nodded, grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. important to note that they're barely teenagers rn so yes charles feels betrayed that pierre isn't feeling the same things he is and isn't choosing the same future for himself etc.

they have a huge fight, lots of crying, lots of dramatic teenage angst. but it ultimately ends with charles shutting pierre out of his life. which is easier said than done when it's your best friend whose family is super close with yours. but it works because pierre is off racing around the world and charles has done all he can to never have to think about that stuff.

so charles goes to school, is doing uni somewhere in europe. studies something generic like business or maybe if i'm feeling suuuuper indulgent i will have him major in environmental studies like moi <3 pointedly does not come to monaco during grand prix weekend or the week before or the week after.

and then anthoine passes away too. (they're 20-21 now)

they see each other again at the funeral but don't talk, they meet up afterwards. pierre breaking down in charles' arms, clutching at his back, telling him he was right. pierre should've quit, he can't do this anymore either. they haven't said a word to each other in 7 years but charles still knows pierre, and knows that this isn't actually what pierre wants. or what he should do. (charles vaguely knows pierre's in f1 but doesn't know he's with redbull, doesn't know redbull's the top team etc)

"you can still do this, you will," charles tells him.

"not without you again."

so then comes the challenge of mending their relationship while still working through the shared trauma, and the Layers of past trauma. and also just the general awkwardness that comes with a friendship breakup/makeup situation you know! they can't just act like nothing happened but would it be easier that way?

they start texting first, then they play fifa or cod together. (sometimes pierre's british friend lewis joins too.)

slowly slowly slowly, they become friends again and then inseparable too. maybe even closer than they were before and charles only now realizes how much he missed pierre. while pierre still can't believe he has charles back now, it's as good as he let himself imagine.

the part i'm unsure about is if i would want pierre's career trajectory to be the same or not. because i think the demotion adds SUCH a painful but interesting aspect to his ~storyline. but ultimately i think maybe he just doesn't get the second seat immediately. spends more years with toro rosso/alpha tauri before getting "called up" (sorry i have no idea what the proper terminology is haha ignore the nba/nhl terms).

he invites charles to his first race in the red bull and charles says no. immediately. pierre's quiet on the other side of the phone, internally thinking he messed this up somehow. he thought things were going well and he takes this as charles doesn't want to see him. but he knows there's a lot more that's stopping charles and he also knows charles will definitely pull back if pierre asks about the other stuff. so he moves right along, asking charles about school, the weather, and tries not to let it show in his voice that he misses his best friend and needs him too.

"i'm going to try to watch," charles says, after pierre's yawned goodnight through the phone and is waiting for him to hang up. because you know pierre's not going to hang up first.

"what?"

"the race. i'm going to try. goodnight!" mentally charles slams the phone shut but really he just smashes at the red button before shoving it under his bed and looking at his hands trying to get answers for what he just did.

his only relief is that he didn't promise pierre he would watch, just that he would try. couldn't even choke out a, "good luck." (insert long paragraph about charles letting pierre down or thinking he has).

he only watches qualifying. pierre p3. already knows on saturday that there's no way he can watch the actual race.

but on sunday when he's supposed to be going over his notes for his climate change science & policy course (yes.... i did it...) he finds himself with his heart in his mouth refreshing formula1 dot com. watches the random names move up and down while keeping his eyes on 10 - gasly. (starts shaking for a second when he sees pierre's name drop until the IN PIT sign comes up across his name. fellas the thing about triggers is-- anyways.)

the scariest part is that by the time he's scrolled through all of red bull's socials to look at pictures of pierre on the podium (he finished p2 sorry i know this truly does not matter), he's forgotten about the race. the anxiety sits small in the back of his throat, his happiness for pierre is bright and loud in front of him. charles sends him a message, asking him to call whenever he can and adds a blue & red heart emoji which feels like a Big Step. but basically pierre calls and acts like nothing has happened since the last time they talked. mentions the breakfast he had in detail as if he didn’t get a podium in his first race with red bull. finally with a big team. but charles embarrassingly realizes that maybe his text didn't exactly imply in literally any way whatsoever that he knows the results of the race and was trying to congratulate pierre with this call. charles probably feels so embarrassed at this point but somehow still can't manage to say anything about the race until the next day maybe.

maybe texts pierre, good job. or, you were great. or something about him and not the race. or maybe reposts a picture from red bull but not one of pierre in his car, pointedly. only one of him on the podium. and pierre probably reposts it with the squid emoji and/or my favourite sentence in the world, merci petit calamaro.

charles cries when he reads it.

not to be lazy now but [insert 10k words of them building their friendship. meeting up in monaco with both of their families. meeting in milan or london or paris idk where pierre would live. but he flies charles out. not on a private jet because charles flat out refused lol. not because he's an environmentally conscious king he's just too, embarrassed? overwhelmed? by pierre doing Things Like That for him. even though he wants it lol. like when he graduates he's soooo annoyed that pierre couldn't come celebrate immediately because it was race week. but when he comes home his apartment is filled with flowers (roses, his favourite) and balloons and a giant teddy bear as tall as charles. and he DOES post 12 instagram stories to go with the other 30 from his other friends congratulating him. so yeah charles goes through a lot of personal growth and therapy. to the point where he's watching pierre race again, and waiting for him to invite him to a race again!!! do not even think about actual dates i'm fucking begging you but the one he goes to is monza :))))]

ultimately charles' path to understand/accepting/moving on from, his trauma, happens once he has pierre back in his life. it's also encouraged by pierre, but it's also not entirely because of him. not sure how to word that but yeah. these things are happening at the same time but charles still has to go through them by himself.

pierre takes him on romantic dates all around the world and charles doesn't realize that's what they are. fully in his bestie vibes only mood while pining for pierre in a way he doesn't even quite understand. almost a self deprecating, jeez whoever gets to date pierre is going to be so lucky :/

fanpage on ig: met pierre's alleged bf he's so pretty and sweet, i complimented his shoes and he was so nice. charles reading that: i didnt know he was dating someone :( why wouldn't he tell me :( well at least someone complimented my shoes today :(

pierre doesn't necessarily think they're dating, but he does know charles doesn't quite realize what they're doing so he's just waiting for him to come to terms with it.

not to give this au 10 different subplots but yeah that miscommunication plot becomes our prize for surviving through the first part of this.

but yeah at the last race of the year, that pierre wins because i said so? charles finds him before he goes on to the podium, kisses his helmet. says i love you, i'm so proud of you.

THEN, finally, charles does become pierre's wag. we made it kids. we did it joe.

#rs #anonymous #asks #1016 #just checked this is 1.7k words i am so so so sorry

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kaaytea · 4 years ago

Text

Yaku Morisuke x reader

Summary: Yaku insisted that he didn't need your help, but the sound of glass breaking over the phone said otherwise.

Warnings: none

A/n: Yaku canonically has 2 little brothers now🥰 this is basically a gift for bug anon and @hikari-writes anyways enjoy mwah!!💖

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

"Hi baby!" You happily chirped into the phone, "I'm excited for our date! It's been a while since we've gone on one."

There was a pause on the other end, you could hear shuffling and a few muffled giggles.

"Stop it you two! I'm sorry (y/n) but we're gonna have to postpone our date, my Aunt fell ill so my parents asked me to watch Yuji and Shiori While they go look after her. I'm really sorry I know how excited you were"

You let out a small laugh and shifted your phone to your other ear as you went to pick up your bag, "It's ok Mori, we can just reschedule for next weekend. How about I come over anyway? It sounds like you'll need the help."

"Ah you don't have to do that, I can usually handle them and I don't want you to-"

Yaku was cut off by the sound of a glass breaking followed by two voices

"ooooo Oniisan is gonna kill yooooou"

"No! He's gonna kill you because I didn't do it!"

Mori let out a tired sigh, "On second thought some help would be greatly appreciated."

"I'll be over in ten minutes, sit tight sweetie!"

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

The Yaku family home wasn't too far from yours, being only a little over an eight-minute walk away. You'd been there plenty of times throughout the years after befriending Morisuke in junior high; your younger self would probably explode if they knew you'd end up dating that cute boy with pretty eyes and wavy, toffee hair who walked home the same way you did. The Yaku's basically became your second home at this point so helping Mori watch his little brothers wasn't that rare of an event.

You hopped up the steps to the humble house and knocked on the door, which swang open a few seconds after revealing a flustered Yaku Morisuke.

"Thank you for helping (y/n), I’m sorry.. this isn't exactly what I had in mind for us today," he said as you walked in, pressing a kiss to your cheek in the process.

"I don't mind helping you out Mori, sure it's not the same as a dinner date but we always have fun when watching the boys," you offered him a smile, which he returned, and followed him into the main room where you were immediately tackled by his brothers.

"(Y/n)-chan!" Yuji jumped up from his seat, abandoning the gaming controller he was holding leaving Shiori to win the game they were currently playing, and bounced over to you to hug your waist. Shiori followed closely behind his older brother and latched on to your waist as well.

"Hey you two!" You wrapped an arm around both boys and hugged them back, both of them looked up at you with big smiles.

They were looking more and more like Morisuke each time you saw them -which was understandable seeing as they're all brothers.

Yuji, the older of the two, shared the same toffee hair as his elder brother but Shiori's, while similar, was a few shades darker than Mori's. All three of them had the same chocolate-colored eyes and delicate freckles dusted on their cheeks though.

"Alright get off them, this might surprise you two but they need to do this thing called breathing," Yaku said from where he was leaning against the couch.

Both boys pulled away, Shiori lingering a little longer, and then dragged you over to the couch to play videogames with you.

Videogames were the most popular form of entertainment whenever you came to watch them. Yuji was scary good at games and almost always won when the four of you played; he could honestly rival Kenma's abilities.

Because there were only three controllers Shiori always sat on your lap so the both of you could take turns, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was because he was a little more attached to you and liked to be near you.

"Are you sure you don't want to play (y/n)-chan?" Shiori looked up at you from his spot on your lap with an innocent look.

"I'm sure Shi, I'm having much more fun watching you play," you leaned closer to him and whispered," Plus, I can help you beat your brothers this way."

He grinned at you and looked forward again to the tv. It seemed as though today's game of choice was Smash Bros Ultimate.

The three brothers started the game with Yuji instantly knocking Mori off the map resulting in him to yell out in frustration. Yaku could be very petty when he wanted so he spent most of the game targeting Yuji, leaving Shiori to sit safely on the sidelines. The game was coming to a close with Mori and Yuji both having one life left. Mori took a wild chance and ended up hitting Yuji off the map making the younger boy cry out in shock. That's when you guided Shiori over to Mori's character and won the match.

"No fair! (y/n)-chan helped you Shiori!" Yuji whined.

"I have no idea what you mean Yuji," you gave him a smile as he pouted at you; he took gaming very seriously.

"Ok ok, stop attacking (y/n) and Shi, why don't we go outside for a bit? The both of you have been in here playing games all day," Yaku got up and turned off the gaming console and tv then turned back to look at the two boys.

"Oooook," they both said before racing to the door. They pushed at each other in attempts to sabotage the other causing you to laugh at their antics. You were so engrossed in the younger boys race that you didn't notice Yaku standing in front of you until he flicked your head.

"You totally helped him win, didn't you" Mori stated with a playful glare.

You got up and pressed a kiss to his nose, "Maybe I did maybe I didn't. Why? Do you want me to help you win next time?" Mori blushed at your response then teasingly hit your shoulder.

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

You and Yaku sat on the wooden porch together watching the younger boys kick around a soccer ball. Mori's arm was around your waist, his thumb occasionally rubbing soft circles into your hip.

"Niisan?" Shiori had diverged from Yuji and now stood in front of Mori and you, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"What's up bud?"

"Can...can you teach me how to play volleyball?"

Mori honestly looked like he could cry when the words 'teach me to play volleyball' left his little brother’s mouth. He'd been hoping that at least one of his brothers would become interested in the sport and it seemed quiet Shiori would be the one.

Mori stood up with a grin on his face, "Sure Shi! Come on, we'll teach you how to receive first."

You smiled watching Shiori run after Morisuke; Yuji and Shiori really looked up to him, it's like they think he hung the stars in the sky himself.

"Yuji!" You called out. The boy looked up from where he was kicking around the soccer ball, "Wanna come help me make dinner?"

"Yeah!"

Yuji happily trailed after you to the kitchen, hopping around from foot to foot as he blabbered on about a Tv show.

You honestly didn't know where he got all his energy from, everyone else in his family was significantly less hyper; though, his cheery attitude was one of your favorite things about him.

"Alright Yuji, what should we make?"

He stopped his bouncing and brought a hand to his chin, his face scrunching up as he pondered his options.

"Ramen!"

You gave him a nod and searched through the cabinets for the noodle packets you were, oh so familiar with. You pulled out enough for four people, placing them on the counter. You then moved to the refrigerator -just eating the packaged noodles wouldn't be the healthiest, so you decided to put your own spin on it. After a quick once over of the fridge you pulled out some carrots, spinach, and a few eggs.

"Ok Kiddo, I'm giving you a really important job. I want you to wash the carrots and spinach, think you can do that for me?"

"Yep!" Yuji gathered the vegetables in his arms and brought them over to the sink to start his job. Once you were sure he was safe, you started looking around for a pot and cutting board. You'd been to this house so many times but if there was one room you weren't familiar with it was the kitchen. Yaku's mother always insisted that she had everything handled and for you to go enjoy your time with Morisuke.

"(y/n)-chan I'm done!" Yuji called over his shoulder. He had perfect timing as you had just found a pot big enough to cook the noodles in.

You walked over to the sink, pot in hand, and gave Yuji a pat on the head -he was absolutely beaming at your approval.

"looks good, I'm gonna start cutting the carrots, fill this pot a little over halfway and then we can start making the noodles," Yuji nodded up at you and started filled the pot while you started cutting the veggies.

You were fully concentrated on your task, you didn't even hear the backdoor open.

"Careful!" You looked over your shoulder to find Mori taking the filled pot from Yuji, the latter had a slight pout spread over his face.

Yaku placed the pot on the stove top and turned back to the younger boy, "Don't do that next time, alright? You could have gotten hurt...it's ok to ask for help when you need it."

Yuji nodded pitifully, he's eyes down casted on the floor in a mix of shame and embarrassment. Mori huffed and ruffled Yuji's hair making him perk up a bit, "I think (y/n) and I've get it handled from here buddy. Go play with Shi, we'll call you both when the foods done."

"Ok!" All previous sadness had left Yuji as he instantly reverted back to his happy self, he bounced out of the kitchen and in the direction of he and Shiori's shared room.

"Thank you for helping Yuji!" You called out. His head popped out from the side of the doorway with a large smile on his face.

"you're welcome (y/n)-chan!"

<< --------------------------------------------------- >>

After dinner and a few more rounds of Smash, Mori and you had tucked both boys into bed for the night.

You stretched your arms high into the air with a hum, "I should probably start walking home."

You felt Yaku latch onto your back, his chin resting on your shoulder and his strong arms pulling you into his chest.

"Nope you're staying here, I don't want you walking home this late."

You chuckled at him and leaned into his hold, he's always looking out for you.

"Ok...that means we're gonna go cuddle in your room, right?"

"Duh"

Being curled up with Mori was one of the best things on earth. Everything about the action was soft and warm; the embodiment of comfort.

"I love your brothers but they really are a handful."

"Try living with them," Yaku responded dryly.

You slapped his shoulder lightly causing him to chuckle at you.

You sighed, enjoying the feeling of Mori tracing random shapes on your back, and nuzzled further into his chest.

"How did Volleyball with Shiori go?"

"It was fun. He's not that bad of a receiver, though I think he'd make a better setter than a libero."

You hummed and placed a kiss on his jaw, "He does have the aspects of a good setter in him, liberos need to be a bit aggressive and crazy to throw themselves around and receive."

"Wow thanks babe," he deadpanned causing you to giggle at him.

"I loooove you~"

"Yeah, whatever you say," Yaku rolled his eyes then tickled your sides changing your giggles to full-on laughter. You shifted and twitch in feeble attempts to escape Yaku's grasp.

"OK OK IM SORRY, Y-YOU MADE YOUR POINT!!"

He stopped his attack and watched you with a soft look as you calmed down. That's when a sliver of light cut through the room like a knife making both You and Mori look towards the door.

"Oniisan...we heard a scary noise outside," Yuji stood in the doorway with Shiori behind him clinging to the back of his shirt.

Mori sat up, he may complain that his baby brothers were annoying but he still loved them with all his heart and couldn't stand to see them upset.

"Do you guys wanna stay with us tonight? (Y/n)-chan and I will make sure nothing scary comes to snatch you away"

Both boys nodded and rushed over to Yaku's bed; their brother was like a beacon of light and the bed a safe house, the childlike fear of standing in the dark room unprotected lapped at their minds.

You all had to squeeze to fit onto the bed but eventually, everyone got situated and relaxed. Both kids laid between you and Mori; Shiori was clinging to your waist with his face pressed into your stomach and Yuji was facing Mori hugging his arm.

Both Yuji and Shiori fell asleep instantly once in the comfort of You and Yaku.

You ran a hand through Shiori's wavy hair, you looked up to find Yaku watching you; he looked starstruck, an almost loopy smile on his face and a warm glow in his eyes. He reached over Yuji and Shiori and grabbed onto your free hand, his thumb ran up and down the back of it prompting you to close your eyes and start to drift off.

Everything was warm and cozy, nothing but the distant chirps of crickets and the soft breathing of the two sleeping boys filled your senses; the feeling of safety and protection evident in the air.

This single moment in time was better than any date Yaku could take you on.

#yaku morisuke #yaku x reader #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku oneshot #yaku scenario #yaku imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #nekoma #nekoma vbc

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

Text

Come Undone

Author’s note: Well, I know I said it was coming this weekend but I decided to break it apart and post this part first. It’s another roller coaster but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Thank you to everyone who messages me and supports me and loves this story. I am so thankful for you. Enjoy my babies :) Thanks for the photo @prodmina, (I’ll use the other thing later in the story too) you are a doll and as always thank you @ewolfwitchwisegirl for this beautiful header!

p.s Crazy fun fact I had no idea what Seojun’s mom’s name was so I put random initials thinking I’ll check later and fix it. Only to guess completely right! I am so proud of myself LOL

She stands dumbfounded in his arms, unable to process the words that have left his lips. She couldn’t have heard him right, why on Earth would someone like him who had girls fighting to be his girlfriend want anything to do with her? Did he pity her that much? Was this the premise of a high school drama and he’d taken some sort of bet to befriend her? Somehow all of those options seem more feasible than him having genuine feelings for her.

But it’s her first real confession, she’s always seen others receive this and never experienced it herself. There had been some grandiose ones at school but she secretly tells herself she prefers this, just them two without an audience. it feels more intimate and authentic, as if he couldn’t wait another minute and his feelings for her overwhelmed him. Her heart is beating rapidly despite her deep calming breaths, he’s effectively turned her world upside down with just those small three words.

I like you.

She can’t control the way her heart flutters, but surely it would react that way to anyone? It wasn’t connected to the confession-er, she was merely affected because someone liked her that was human nature. It didn’t matter that it was Han Seojun, they were nothing to each other. Pity was surely clouding his emotions and she wanted no part in being there when he realized that and abandoned her, it was best not to get attached at all she argues with her traitorous heart.

Her phone brings her back to reality, suddenly she remembers where she’s meant to be right now and her father’s enraged face appears in her mind. He’d told her not to embarrass him, which meant she had to go on this date and paint on a happy face and pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. All for a man who treated her no better than scum under his shoes.

Pulling out the phone, Obligation flashes on her phone screen that’s all he was after all she’d already forgotten his name, it was of no importance to her. She doesn’t know if she should answer, still confused about her next step and while she’s ruminating a hand suddenly fills her vision and snatches the object from her hand. Twisting out of his hug she stares in shock before trying to grab the phone back, “Are you insane? Give it back!” But he steps back, putting more space between them as he holds the stolen object just out of her reach tauntingly using his looming height.

“Is this your date? Obligation.” He reads the name from the phone, venom in his voice and she’s taken back by his tone he’s hardly ever serious or cold with her. She’s seeing many different facets to his personality today.

“Han Seojun, give it back!” She demands, stomping her feet before lunging for the item, putting a hand on his shoulder for more leverage. But she miscalculates and her face smashes into his jaw making him cry out in pain and sending her flying forward her body crashing into his painfully, he steadies her with an arm around her waist bringing her dangerously close to him. Their eyes connect as if they are magnetized, just like that day in front of her house.

“Is this your answer, princess? You sure know how to hurt a guy.” She peers at him in bewilderment before searching his face, there’s not even a fraction of a smile on his lip and he refuses to meet her eyes. Gazing off into the distance although he’s speaking to her. He seems…hurt and he’s not doing a good job of hiding it at all, it’s written all over his face and she wonders vaguely what kind of world he must live in to be able to so freely reveal his feelings? She yearns to grab his lips and literally turn his frown upside down, smiles look much better on him.

“You mean it.” She whispers in awe, the ice around her heart defrosting as his palpable pain washes over her. He’d thought she was rejecting him for her “date”. He clearly wasn’t a great listener, she had no feelings for that guy it was just another part of her world that she had no control over. For some reason she wants to explain that to him, make him understand that in another universe maybe things would be different, maybe she would be allowed to want and she would explore this but this isn’t her reality, things are not that simple. Love isn’t an option for her.

“I told you. About my world, I can’t–”

“That’s just an excuse. You have a choice Sujin.” He states his word are cold as ice, he looks livid as he puffs out an exasperated breath of air and frantically runs his fingers through his hair.

Shoving him hard she sneers up at him before shouting in his face, “What choice do I have? I have control over nothing in my life, my first date is being stolen from me. I’ll probably have to kiss him too so that will also be stolen! I can’t control anything I didn’t even choose this outfit. None of this is my choice.” It’s not his fault, and he’s the one person that’s been there for her and that makes her even angrier, why isn’t she allowed to have this? Go on a date with a boy who might care for her, why is life cruel enough that this is being presented but she can’t grab onto it with both hands?

For the first time ever, he doesn’t deflate or back off like he usually does when they get to these moments, he’s usually her safety pin pulling her back from the edge of detonation so she’s not ready for him to scream back at her, “Then choose me! Fuck all of that, fuck your father.” He lifts up her phone which has started to ring again, “Fuck this guy! Just choose me, let me be your first.” They both stand still, staring at each other the jingle of her iPhone not enough to cut the thick coiling tension and then she watches in gaped surprise as he angrily slides her phone open. “Stop fucking calling, she’s not coming. She’s with her boyfriend.” Then he slides the phone close, finally handing it back to her looking at her with those hard glistening eyes. She looks at the phone and then back at him, eyes wide as the moon.

Stupefied and flustered she stutters out, “You’re n-n-ot my boyfriend. What are you doing?”

“Let me take you on a date. Pick me Sujin.”

They stand at an impasse, neither talking following the outburst but their eyes are locked having a conversation all their own. He looks impossibly young standing there asking to be chosen, he was always so shameless with his emotions uncaring about letting them ooze out of his pores. Although he was no longer saying anything, his face was screaming at her, his eyes were kneeling before her on bended knees.

When the phone vibrates again, she's so entranced that she doesn't make any move to check it so when the cab driver calls out her name from his window, she jumps in surprise at the sudden interruption.

"Ms. Kang Sujin?" He eyes them both, glancing back and forth as if he too can feel the tension laying heavy in the air between them.

After a moments pause she finally relays the message to her mouth to speak, answering quietly, "Yes. That's me."

Seojun watches her unwaveringly, never breaking eye contact to look at the driver. He's standing unnaturally straight, all of his usual swagger drained from his body as he watches to see what she'll do.

Turning to the cab, she reaches out a hand to grab the handle, the cool metal smooth in her grasp.

Pulling it open she turns to look at him one last time before making her decision, with an expressionless face she ultimately slides into the passenger seat. The leather squeaking over her naked thighs, primly she places the little white bag in her lap. When she finally focuses back on Seojun, the hurt on his face is almost too much to witness instead of hiding it like she would he lays it all at her feet, lips twisted in a broken snarl and his fingers clenched tightly by his side.

She waits for some kind of retaliation, for the switch to flick and for him to erupt on her for refusing to listen to his plea. Almost salivates at the idea of him showing her that this was all an act, he didn't truly like her once she rejected him he would lash out and whatever this was would be obliterated. No one was that good, she didn't deserve goodness.

"Text me later then. Let me know when you get home."

His voice is devoid of any anger, calm and smooth but tinged with resignation, gracefully accepting defeat and still concerned about her well-being. Surely he was created in a test tube, there's no reasonable explanation for the way he never reacts the way she expects- the way anyone would in his situation. A sad little smile spreads across his lips and it's the most despairing thing she's ever seen, she never wants to see it again not on his face. As he moves to slam the door shut, somehow still a gentleman even in this predicament, spontaneously she grabs his hand.

"Get in."

She can't believe the words that have left her mouth but she's also buzzing, why isn't she allowed to be selfish and take something that she wants? She can't promise him forever still, her life hasn't changed that drastically but she can give him today, give herself a real first date with someone who doesn't make her skin crawl.

He looks rightfully confused, she knows that she's not making any sense. Playing hot and cold. But her heart is telling her that she's allowed this, she has a choice and today she's joining herself. She's never done that before it's terrifying but maybe it'll be easier with him, maybe he can teach her how.

"Fuck that guy. Take me on a date." She whispers astonished repeating his own words , staring up at him for his response and the answering smile that spreads across his handsome face is enough to power a whole city. She almost beams back his happiness is that contagious.

He squeezes her gloved hand, sliding into the cab beside her their legs pressed closely together. She looks away, moving over discretely but he simply follows her boyish grin on his face, no one has ever smiled like that because of her; it's honestly mesmerizing.

Sounding thoroughly amused, the driver confirms her destination and she realizes she hadn't thought that far and she has no idea where they should go. Placing a burning hot hand on her knee, Seojun easily gets her attention.

"Do you trust me princess?"

She stares back at him, blooding pumping from his soulful tone and his skin on her skin. She's making a horrible mistake, she's sure of but she'll have regrets tomorrow. Boldly returning his look she nods mutely, forced to look away when he laughs so beautifully it makes her stomach drop. Today she does.

"No we have a new destination."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She looks quizzically at said destination.

"A mall?" She scrunches her nose climbing out of the cab, brushing past him as he holds the door open for her. She tries to ignore the flapping in her stomach, his constant chivalry is a welcome surprise.

"Already doubting me princess? This isn't our date, I wouldn't bring you to a mall on our first date." He sounds affronted but in a teasing way and she wasn't prepared to hear him call this a date even though she'd said those same words herself minutes ago.

"Then why are we here?"

He opens the entrance door letting her go first, she's not sure she'll ever get used to this. He hasn't let her open one door since he chased her out of the coffee, using those long limbs every time to beat her to the door.

"You don't need to keep doing this?"

Now it's his turn to look quizzical, "Do what?"

They're walking side by side now, she notices that he's adjusted his steps to match hers. She hardly wears heels and walking in them is not her expertise, she'd only worn them because her father insisted claiming women should wear them on a date. It made them more appealing to men. She ha cringed in disgust at the comment.

"Open every door we encounter. I can open them too."

Suddenly he grabs her hand stopping her in the middle of the mall, she tries to tug her hand away no longer covered by her gloves but he tightens his hold preventing her from pulling away.

"You told me to take you on date. This is me on a date, I want to open all your doors. You picked me so just enjoy it, this is all for you." She stares at his small content smile embarrassed by his undivided focus on her. Her cheeks burning up without her permission she races away before he can see.

"Let's go."

But he's too quick, running ahead of her and walking backwards eyes scanning her face.

"Are you blushing? Was I too charming princess, did you heart flutter?" He teases her reaching out a hand to squeeze her cheeks, she smacks his hand away glaring at him.

"Shut up before I leave."

He winks in response nonplussed by her empty threat walking purposely before stopping in front of a retail store. Looking through the window she can see trendy clothes, definitely Seojun's style.

She gazes over at him unimpressed, "Did you bring me here to watch you shop?" He looks at her equally unimpressed before raising an eyebrow, "Come on princess. You have a lot to learn about me."

Still with this damn nickname and now because she hadn't reprimanded him enough it seemed it was here to stay.

Seojun walks over to a rack immediately, pulling out shirts and putting over her figure. Nodding his head before putting the article back and moving onto another rack.

I didn't even choose the outfit. Her own voice rings in her mind remembering their heated discussion on the sidewalk and suddenly it all makes sense they're here to get an outfit for her, something chosen by her.

"Do you like this?" He holds up another shirt, light blue with a cute picture of a puppy on the front. She sneers at him pushing the offending object away.

"I'm not five, why would I wear that?"

He shrugs at her putting the shirt in front of himself now, "What? I think it's cute. Wouldn't I look cute in it?"

He does, the idiot. His lips pushed out into a perfect pout matching the puppy on the shirt but before she can lie through her teeth and tell him no, another high pitched voice interrupts them.

"Oh! You are so handsome, I'm sure anything would look just delicious on you."

When she turns around she's greeted by a chipper store clerk, she doesn't look much older than them and she only has eyes for Seojun, not once looking in her direction despite being right next to her.

"Is it your first time here? Do you need help? What are you looking for?" The girl rapid fires out questions and she doesn't like the way her chest tightens watching the girl blatantly flirt with him. Clutching her fists she stalks off to a random rack not wanting to look bothered by the invasion, he's allowed to talk to whoever he wants. He's not hers nor she his.

She idly lifts a white T-shirt, it's plain besides a small upside triangle design on the pocket. She knows the brand, they're part of a nonprofit company that gives all their proceeds to children homes. She searches for her size resisting the urge to see what Seojun's doing. He startles her when he peeks over her shoulder his chin almost landing on her collar.

"You like that?" He croons into her ears appearing out of nowhere.

She twists around hoping to put some space between them only to lose her breath at the sight of him, he's removed his bomber jacket standing in a black T-shirt but that's not what catches her attention, it's the dark winding dragon weaving intricately down his bicep. The swirls of black and dark blues of the creature's body are captivating as gray smoke curls out of the dragon's mouth. "It's new." He flexes the arm, bringing it closer to her until it's close enough for her to touch. So she does. Trailing a finger from the dragon's head almost on his wrist and meandering up his arm, stopping at the edge of his shirt sleeve where the tattoo disappears. Realizing what exactly she's doing she snatches her hand away, putting the wayward appendage behind her back.

His eyes are dark when she glances up but neither of them fill the silence, she shuffles going back to the rack and absently pulling out a pair of black jeans.

"I've always liked dragons. They're larger than life and nobody messes with them."

It sounds like he's describing himself, or the persona she's seen at school. The school heart-throb with girls fawning over him and boys wanting to be him, his motorcycle, piercings and now tattoos only adding to his allure. On paper he was the quintessential bad boy but she knew now that wasn't entirely accurate. She'd seen how protective he was of his sister and how doting he was of family, he loved his family and it was clear that the feeling was mutual. And then there was the way he treated her, he was something more than what everyone saw.

Lamely she only replies, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

Thrusting his other hand into her face he shows his wrist, small letters are branded there. Initials.

GW. MH

"GW....Go-woon."

He nods agreeing, "Yeah these were my first tattoos, my mom and sister’s initials. After my father passed away I had to step up, I wanted a reminder that I had people worth living for."

She freezes at his admission, unprepared for the personal and revealing turn this conversation has taken. His face is blank but those eyes, they never lie they are brimming with emotions. She has to fight the urge to hug him, instead patting him on the shoulder.

"Your family loves you. They're lucky to have you."

They aren't the only ones but that's too much for today. She has already reached her mistake quota.

He leans into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder for only a moment before straightening up and smiling.

"Didn't know you were capable of giving compliments princess, I feel special."

She lets him break the tension knowing that he probably didn't intend to open up that much, his cheeks are dusted in red confirming her inkling.

"Don't get used to it. You hardly do anything worth complimenting."

They slip back into their usual banter, as she searches for a dressing room thankfully there's no line and she goes in. After changing she looks at herself in the full sized mirror, she tucks the edge of the shirt into her pants. It's simple but it's more her, the real her. Her father insists that they wear the most expensive clothes and she owns many different brands but most days she'd rather just dress like this and not feel like she's on an imaginary runway. Pulling the door open, she almost collides with Seojun not prepared from him to be waiting right outside her door.

He changed too, and she blinks at him.

"We're not wearing matching outfits. Go change." She states blankly.

He chuckles softly, straightening the already perfect shirt on his body. He added a silver chain and black boots to his outfit and she groans internally because she'd also planned on pairing her outfit with black boots.

"It just happened. I guess our style is compatible." He winks at her going to model in front of the mirror.

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be in the men's dressing room?" She hisses at him as he preens in the glass.

She gets her answer in the form of a familiar high pitched tone.

"Oh it looks great on you! You have to get it, it really shows off your arms." Then she watches in dismay as the other girl actually reaches out to touch his arm, Seojun smoothly moves out of her reach but the girl is adamant and places a hand on his back instead standing next to him by the mirror.

Her eyes squint in annoyance, he might not be hers but the outfits should have made it obvious that they were something to each other but the girl was choosing to turn a blind eye. She stops holding back. This is all leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Interjecting easily, she moves the proprietary hand on Seojun's back with a flick of her wrist.

"Do you accost all your customers like this?" She deadpans at the other girl, watching her eyes widen before her face morphs into a tense smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I didn't notice you there. Is she your sister?" The store clerk defers back to Seojun as if dismissing her completely and in the corner of her eyes she sees the hard glint of his jawline, he doesn't look pleased. That gives her the courage for her next action.

"Do you usually buy matching outfits with your siblings? We're on a date. We don't need your help as you can see, we already have what we need." She motions between them and their matching outfits, watching the other girl who looks ready to scream before turning to Seojun with beguiling eyes, as if begging him to deny her words.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing their sides tightly together. The other girl looks at them in disbelief before he answers in his deep voice, "You heard my girl. I'm off limits."

She tells her heart to calm down, this is all a show after all. It was about the principle of the matter, she didn't appreciate this complete stranger ruining her first date. It wasn't about Seojun in particular. He wasn't hers, she knew that. They both watch as she stomps off, angry blush on her face and retort under her breath. Sujin's tempted to follow her and hear what she's saying under her breath, but she collects herself. Turning to Seojun she complains, "This is how you act on a date? Flirting with other girls?"

He gasps at the accusation pressing a hand against his heart, "I never flirted. I told her I wasn't interested when you left the first time. I didn't think you'd be the jealous type though. "

She opens her mouth to deny that claim despite all the evidence proving otherwise but he beats her to it.

"I like it." He ruffles her hair before walking off. She stands there in gaped mouth surprise, how dare he? After picking her jaw up off the ground, they finally join the line, clothes folded in their arms. Deciding to change back into them after ringing up the order.

They get ringed up by another store clerk, when she tries to pull out her credit card Seojun looks at her like she's personally offended him.

"I'm paying. Don't bother arguing, this is me on a date."

"You two are so cute! I love your matching outfits." The cashier coos at them missing the cold glare from her co-worker in the distance.

As they leave the store she waves snidely at the other girl, even allowing Seojun to rest his arm on her shoulder to put on a even more convincing show.

She knows she's being petty but the other girl started it, she's just finishing it. Maybe next time she wouldn't flirt with boys who were with other girls, she was teaching her a life long lesson.

"You're something else princess."

As soon as they get outside, the store clerk no longer in sight she pushes his hand away. They need to redraw the line in the sand he's getting too comfortable touching her and calling her that nickname. And she might be getting too comfortable hearing it.

"That's enough. Stop calling me that." She expects him to be annoyed or hurt by her switch in attitude but instead he's nodding his head fondly with his hands held high, "I make no promises about that P. But I think it's time to get this date started."

She groans staring at this back, she'd completely forgotten to make him change and now everyone was staring at them in their matching outfits. That stupid flirtatious clerk had derailed her thinking.

"Hey! Seojun, let's go to another store. You need to change!" she yells chasing after him. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He groans as the sensor sounds out, loud noise blaring in his ears signaling that she's hit him again, he only catches a glimpse of her before she's barrel rolling behind a pillar and out of sight.

She'd totally played him, adamant that she'd never done laser tag before. He should have known when she came after changing looking far too comfortable with the gigantic imitation gun in her hand, her hair scooped into a high ponytail. It was admittedly distracting, bringing attention to the long regal line of her neck. He noticed how the instructor paused mid sentence upon seeing her, his eyes lingering a little too long for his liking. Easily he moved between them, dwarfing her with his larger frame staring the guy down until he snapped back looking away while rubbing his neck.

She hadn't noticed the interaction too busy aiming her weapon and asking questions, he had second guessed bringing her here wondering if this was too childish. It was there first date after all and he wanted there to be others, was this thoughtful enough? But watching her roll and dive for cover he knew that he'd made the right choice, even if she was currently destroying his ego.

He had immediately fell for her tricks, running to her aid when she tripped and fell whimpering in pain on the ground. His heart had stopped as he raced over to her, her name on his tongue but before he could utter the word she rolled over, smirk on her face as she aimed perfectly in the middle of his chest, gaining the most point value. She stuck her tongue out before hopping up and disappearing into the darkness. He had stood there shocked clutching at his chest.

"Do you really have time to day dream? I don't know if you've noticed but you're losing. Badly."

She calls from somewhere and he shakes his head at her mocking comment, the trash talking has been steadily increasing with each shot she landed. He should have expected this, for her to be competitive. He's seen it at school sometimes that grimace on her face when she saw that she was second again, glaring at Suho before shoving the ranking away.

He wishes he could say that he's been taking it easy on her but he hasn't, he's been trying his damn hardest to no avail, every time he spots her she dodges him easily, before reappearing behind her and making his sensors go off. He's not the most competitive person but losing this badly is simply embarrassing, a small part of him wants to impress her.

Okay, a large part. Shoot him.

He groans when just that happens, she shoots him and that's it. Game over.

Winner flashes across the front of her camo vest. But when a radiant smile spreads across her flushed face he wonders who is truly the winner.

Cocking an eyebrow he whistles, "You sure you've never done this before?"

She tries to hide a smile but fails epically before admitting the truth. "I might have done this before, once or twice."

"You're a game shark. Taking advantage of poor innocent souls. Is this anyway to treat your date?" He feigns hurt pouting dramatically, bottom lip wobbling. She rolls her eyes at him, ponytail swishing as she skips away before calling over a shoulder, "Even if I told you, you would have still lost. I'm just better than you. Did you even hit me once?" She taunts, looking far too attractive with that snotty look on her face. He must be going crazy.

"You're such a brat. " He concedes enjoying this version of Sujin too much to take any real offense to her insults.

"Rematch?" She purses her lips before aiming right at his head, with one eye closed.

"You're on." She accepts his challenge before running over the counter to purchase more time, he trails after her knowing that he's lost much more than this laser tag game. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She kicks his ass a second time, he does manage to land one shot on her but it only makes her even more competitive and it's a flurry after that, his censor ringing off every few seconds. It's a short rematch, her notices how other guys seem mesmerized by the beautiful girl with the near precise aim. She starts attracting quite the audience and he decides they've been here long enough. This isn't the end of their date after all, he doesn't want to waste this time.

"Alright, you win ninja remind me never to do this with you ever again."

She stands triumphantly before wondering off to change.

The ponytail is down when she comes back out, thick dark curtain over her shoulder. His fingers itch with desire but he controls the urge, he's seen what she's capable of. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ She shakes her head as he pulls out her chair but he sends her a charming smile, he wasn't joking when he told her this was how he acted on dates. Maybe it's because he only has his mother and sister but he has always respected woman immensely, doing these little acts makes him feel like he's cherishing them. His mother has never opened a door in his presence so this feels natural to him.

They're in a quaint diner with dim lighting and cushy oversized chairs, she looks around curiously taking in the minimalist artwork and splashes of color on the wall.

"Do you bring all your dates here?" She asks all nonchalance as she thumbs through the menu, surprising him when she immediately goes to the dessert section eying the different cakes. He sits in disbelief that she has a sweet tooth, she's just full of surprises today.

"Sujin." He puts iron into his voice grabbing her attention, when their eyes are connected he speaks again, "I think you know me better than that. Don't make this cheap."

It's obvious what she's been trying to do since they left the laser tag center, put as much distance between them as possible. Every once in a while her phone vibrates and he can see her tense up before declining the call. The reality of what she's done has set in and now she's putting back up her fortress. Brushing off his compliments and implying that everything he's been doing is all part of some first date playbook, he's trying not to be offended but it's hard to wrangle in his emotions.

It always is with her.

They stare at each other until a server comes to take their order. She orders a chocolate mousse cake that sounds like something his sister would love- cloyingly sweet and diabetes inducing- and he orders another slice to bring home to her, maybe he can use that to bribe her and hear more about how Sujin saved her. For himself he gets an egg sandwich with avocado and bacon, starving now after his long day. He'd gone to work straight from school and fatigue is catching up with him.

"I'll be right back." He announced abruptly, the chair screeching as he excuses himself from the table.

He splashes cold water on his face, waking himself up and clearing his mind. What will they do after this? It's clear that she's dreading what comes next. Nothing has changed, she still has to go home and he knows they'll be repercussions to today. He can't let her face that alone but getting her to agree to him being there is going to be near impossible. The trust between them is still thin, like the first layer of ice that covers a frozen lake and he's terrified to rupture it.

What is he supposed to do?

Trepidation grips his mind as he makes his way back to their table and as he draws closer, he notices that she's completely distracted, arms balanced on the armrests as she stares out the glass, lost in thought and a million miles away. She looks beautiful, if he was a poet he would write sonnets about it. He has no idea how this day is going to end, feels dread swirling in his stomach as well and he pulls out his phone angling it as he stands in front of her. Wanting to capture this moment, tattoo this image in his mind.

Click!

The loud notification of his camera breaks her reprieve and anxiously he starts to staff the traitorous device in his pocket but not before she spots him.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He answers innocently, sitting down and taking a huge bite of the sandwich that was delivered while he was away. Her chocolate cake is still perfect, thick and sweet the aroma wafting across the table. She was waiting for him.

Grabbing her fork, he stabs a huge piece of the decadent treat lifting it to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" She retreats attempting to steal her fork back but he weaves out of reach, laughing at her grumpy face.

"Open up princess." He tries to feed her again but she turns her head away, he has to catch himself before he smashes it on her cheek. He gets the feeling that wouldn't have ended well if he didn't have fast reflexes.

"Seojun."

"Princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Open up."

"No!"

She's fully glaring at him now, arms folded across her chest and he stares back impishly before formulating a plan.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

She looks surprised at his quick acceptance of defeat before he starts to bring the cake to his own mouth, exaggeratedly opening his mouth wide to consume the delicacy and instantly she lunges across the table looking ferocious, her mouth open wide in anger and finding an opening he twists the fork and pops the cake into her mouth.

Her face is thunderous, anger filling every line before the flavor explodes on her tongue and she freezes mid lunge looking like a chipmunk with her full cheeks and wide eyes. She slowly chews savoring the bite before finally swallowing. He waits for her reaction with bated breath.

"How was it?" He laughs at her dark stare, passing the fork back over the table. Almost too eagerly she grabs the utensil, shoveling more of the sweet treat into her mouth. Silently answering his inquiry, in minutes her plate is empty only a smear of icing remaining.

He chews his own sandwich deliberately.

When his phone starts to vibrate he doesn't detect it at first, too lost in the puzzle that is Kang Sujin; laser tag extraordinaire with a sweet tooth the size of Seoul. A gentle smile washes over his face when he sees the caller ID and he makes a rash decision that may or may not get him in more trouble. Declining the call, he goes into the contact and chooses FaceTime instead waiting patiently until a face pops up.

"Seojun, where are you? Your sister said she saw you at work earlier and you were on your way home. Did something happen?" His mother’s concerned voice rings out from the speakers.

Glancing subtly over at Sujin he sees her freeze before realization lights up her eyes and he knows she's going to bolt. Not giving her a chance to flee, he reaches around the table grabbing her chair and tugging her over until they're side by side. Both of their faces sit in the small square on his phone and his mother gasps at the sudden addition to your conversation.

"Oh! Who's this? Are you out with friends?"

"Mom, this is Kang Sujin. The girl I like." He states proudly, smiling brightly at the screen.

His mom's eyes become comically wide, glancing back and forth between the two of them before she waves back excitedly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you my dear. I hope my son is treating you well." His mother has that look on her face that she always gets before she scolds him, clearly seeing the other girl’s discomfort. Sujin is unmoving next to him, a pregnant moment passes before she blinks twice and realizes that she's being spoken to.

"He is. It's nice to meet you too." Her voice is tinier than he's ever heard it.

Worlds different from the person who looked ready to stab him over chocolate cake.

His mother's eye immediately soften at her quiet voice.

"Well I won't keep you. Make sure she gets home safely and don't come back too late. It's supposed to rain later." She warns them both waving softly before ending the call and the screen goes dark.

"What are you doing?"

She's furious. He can hear in the cadence of her voice, she's vibrating with it.

"Why would you do that?”

"Why are you so angry?" He rises to her bait, knowing this was the inevitable end to their near perfect date.

"You had no right to do that. I don't need to be anymore involved with your life."

A slap across his face. That stings and he can't control his reaction, recoiling like he's been hit.

"What was supposed to happen after today? Why did you agree to this? Was this supposed to get you out of my system?" He barks at her. He’s so annoyed this is happening in the middle of a diner, like those couples you always see and judge praying that they'll take this somewhere else.

"It was supposed to get you out of my system!" She screams back.

There's the truth, the ugly truth. It's not different from anything she's ever said to him but hearing that now after confessing to her feels like salt being poured into his wounds. Or acid behind injected into his veins.

"What about my feelings? I like you."

Harshly she stands snatching her purse and throwing down a few bills on the table, with a tone filled with venom she looks him dead in the eyes, unwavering. "Don't." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It wasn't supposed to end like this, his heartbroken face is frozen in her mind.

Don't.

She was selfish, a horrible selfish bitch and she used his feelings for her. That's what he would think and that was best, he needed to face the reality that one stolen moment didn't make her life brand new, she was still the broken mess he'd stumbled upon in the rain. No matter how vehemently he tried there was no mending her she was beyond repair.

But it had felt nice. Being with him, feeling like a normal teenager on a date. For a minute she'd forgotten her reality, when he called his mother it was the wake up call she needed. She wasn't the girl you brought home to your mother, at least not for him. The woman looked so much like him and she could feel their affection for each other through the phones, her own mother has never looked at her with such devotion. Jealousy crawls at her insides, she'd forgotten she was a monster until she saw them. She couldn't drag another person into her storm.

He doesn't call. She thought he would, expected him to chase after her and demand more. She stares through the window of the bus watching the raindrops slide down the glass, his mother had been right. Taking out her phone she types a message.

I'm sorry.

Staring at it, there's so much she's sorry for but mostly crashing into his life. If only he'd ignored her like everyone else this could have all been avoided, he would have been spared. She leans back in her seat with a deep sigh, message unsent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She's drenched standing outside her house, pacing back and forth pulling at the skin between her fingers. Her father has to know by now, but he hasn't contacted her once. It feels like the calm before the storm despite the torrential pour of rain around her.

The click of the front door opening makes a shiver race down her spine. Her father stands ominously in the doorway, face set in stone.

"Where have you been!" He screams, booming voice cutting through the fall of rain.

She instinctively takes a step back but he grabs her by her soaking shirt collar and slams her into the brick wall, she cries out as pain surges through her body. "You little bitch, I told you not to embarrass me." He hisses into her face, spit landing on her chin.

"Honey, stop! You're outside somebody will see!" She hears her mother crying from the doorway and she almost laughs at the reasoning, it's okay to beat her to pulp as long as it's inside where no one will see. It was all about upholding appearances.

"You shut your mouth! This wouldn't have happened if you raised her better!" He turns to sneer at her mother and she capitalizes on his momentary distraction, twisting out of his hold and running down the sidewalk. For a moment she thinks she's free but then a sharp pain shoots through her head and she's painfully yanked backwards by her hair. She shouts at the burst of intense pain, hot tears streaming down her face.

He drags her by her hair before shoving her into the wall, her skull bounces off the hard surface and white starburst explode behind her eyelids.

Squinting through her tears and the water soaking her face she sees her father with his fist drawn back. She waits for the blow, clenching her eyes shut. If she's lucky this will be it, it'll all be over.

But the moment drags on and the punch never lands and then she suddenly hears a voice she never expected.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

She's barely able to lift her hand and watch as her father is shoved powerfully, falling to his knees from the impact. Rubbing at her tender scalp she peers up at her savior only to see the furious face of Seojun, his hair is matted to his scalp and he looks murderous.

"You came." That's all she can get out before her world goes pitch dark, he was here. He was truly here even after everything she said. Why? Why was he always there?

Her last cognitive image is him running frantically towards her with his arms outreached, his lips are moving and she wishes she knew what he was saying but there's no sound and then there's nothing.

Darkness.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #junjin #han seojun #kang sujin #the couple that should have been #early posting #I come bearing gifts

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adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Ch. 3

AO3 || FFN

The next morning, Jenny stayed true to her word and called me before work to grab coffee. As much as I wanted to hear about her night, I also sort of didn’t. Harry had looked at her the way I’d always dreamed he would look at me, and that was tearing me apart.

I’d probably gotten two hours of sleep, so I was planning on ordering the largest cup of coffee with a double shot espresso from my favorite coffee shop. t I grabbed my bag and looked in the mirror, giving one last check for bags under my eyes. Jenny was just leaving her flat as I was locking my own door.

“Good morning!” she said cheerily.

“Morning,” I said, trying a little too hard to match her bright tone.

When Jenny noticed me, she frowned a bit. “Are you okay? You look like you barely got any sleep last night.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t really want her knowing the reason why. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just some insomnia was all,” I lied.

We left the building and walked down the street toward my favorite coffee shop. Jenny was chattering on about how she needed to unpack and attempt to get some laundry done today. “Maybe I’ll even take a nap this afternoon as a reward,” she added.

I wished I could take a nap. Hopefully I wouldn’t fall asleep and drool all over my desk. That was the last thing I needed: Harry walking in and seeing me like that.

After we picked up our coffees and sat down at one of the small tables, I noticed Jenny was picking at her nails. She was probably waiting for me to ask about how her night was. I knew I was going to find out one way or another, so I took the bait.

“So, how was the rest of your night?” I asked casually.

Jenny broke out into a wide grin. “It was amazing! Harry took me to this posh restaurant where we ordered drinks and split an appetizer, and then he invited me back to his place. I didn’t get home until four, but I’ve just been so wired that I haven’t slept.”

“You’re this awake and you haven’t slept at all?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Jenny smirked. “It’s funny. I’ve always heard about how ‘when you know, you know,’ but I never believed all of that rubbish. Yet last night, with Harry, things just made sense! He was so easy to talk to, and things felt different with him than the other blokes I’ve seen.”

“O-oh, well that’s good, isn’t it?” I asked, trying to sound pleased for her.

“He’s not normally my type, you know, the quiet, brooding kind, but there’s something mysterious about him that makes me want to go back for more.”

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Hermione said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“Tell me everything you know about him,” Jenny begged. “I want to learn more!”

I took a long sip of my coffee before responding. As much as I didn’t want to share that with her, I couldn’t resist talking about him. “Well, he’s such an inspiration! His parents died when he was a baby, so he was taken in by his Godfather, who was then murdered when he was fifteen. He worked really hard at school to fit in and make a name for himself that wasn’t necessarily tied to his parent’s horrific car accident.”

“Oh, my God, I had no idea,” Jenny said as her hand covered her mouth in shock.

I nodded. “They got into a car crash when he was one, and they both died on impact, but he was fine in the backseat. Everyone called it a miracle given the state of the car. He doesn’t like to talk about it, so I wouldn’t bring it up unless he does,” I added.

“Noted,” Jenny said as she nodded. “What else?”

Hermione took another sip as she thought. “Well, he dropped out of college, and used his inheritance to start the company. Harry worked as a temp for a major publishing company, saw how ruthless they were to many authors, and decided he wanted to help. It was either that or go into law enforcement. I personally think he’s happier here, but every now and then his reckless need for adventure strikes.”

“He likes adventure? What does he do when the urge kicks in?” Jenny asked with rapt attention.

“He’ll volunteer with the local police department. He got to know some of the detectives there when they were investigating his Godfather’s murder. Harry likes to help out with various neighborhood watch programs, too, and becomes a bit obsessed with helping solve the smaller cases.”

“This is so fascinating! I would have never guessed that about him. What about some of his random interests and likes?” Jenny pressed on.

“Harry loves treacle tart, he adores his dog Padfoot, and he plays for an amateur football league in his spare time. Did you two even talk last night?” I asked, surprised that she was asking me about him.

“There wasn’t really much time for talking,” Jenny chuckled.

“Right,” I said. I was pretty sure my voice sounded hollow as my heart dropped into my stomach. It looked like they were intimate.

“Harry wants to have lunch today, so now I’ll have things to talk about with him!”

That was peculiar. Why wouldn’t they have other things to talk about? Wasn’t she going to talk to him about her own life? “What do you mean? Surely, you’d have your own stories and experiences to share?”

“Oh, yeah, I do, but I’m more interested in him! It’s not often I meet a man who isn’t shallow and full of lies. Harry seems like the real deal. Someone I’ve been waiting my whole life for!” She seemed to be dodging my question about herself, just like she did whenever I asked anything too personal. It didn’t sit well with me.

“Ha, yes, your whole life for…” I echoed. “But won’t you have to leave in a few months for work?”

“Maybe,” she said in a noncommittal tone. “I was thinking of making a career change soon, so maybe now would be an opportune time if I’ve found someone to settle down with! That way I could finally stay in London.”

My mind was feeling rather fuzzy, and I was realizing I needed to get out of there. I was holding onto the hope that this would be a fling because Jenny would ultimately have to leave again, but even that was looking grim judging by the way she was talking. I checked my watch. “Oh, no! I’m going to be late if I don’t get going. I’m so happy things worked out for you last night! You’ll have to let me know how today goes,” I told her as I stood up and gathered my things.

“Okay! Tell Harry I said hi, will you? I promise we’ll catch up later!” she flashed me a genuine smile as I returned it with a half smile of my own and escaped toward the exit.

I tried my best to shake the conversation from my mind and not worry about it as I walked into the office. This wasn’t something that was worth fixating on, so I focused on my work to distract me. After verifying the to-do list that I left on my desk the day before, I pulled out my Filofax, wanting to double check that I hadn’t missed any appointments.

What I found instead was that the red headed pain in my arse decided to defile the one thing that held my entire life. “I’m going to kill him,” I said under my breath as I ferociously flipped through each page of my Filofax.

I grabbed my phone with a little too much force and punched the numbers into the keypad before holding the handset up to my ear and waited as I listened to the ringing.

“Weasley,” he answered. Why did he always have to sound so buggering cocky?

“Not only did you read my Filofax, but you defiled it with your name and number as well? What is wrong with you?” So much for attempting to begin a civil conversation.

“Hey, you got my message!” Ron responded in a disgustingly cheerful voice.

“How could I not? You seem to have penciled yourself in on all my Fridays for...oh, let’s see, the rest of the year!” I scoffed. “What do you want?”

“A drink. That’s all I’m asking for,” he said simply.

“Yes, well, that’s never going to happen so you’re going to have to get over it.”

“Well, the offer stands if you’re ever looking to meet up with someone who doesn’t want to talk about tulle and event menus.”

I laughed derisively. “Thanks, but no thanks. Goodbye, Ron.” I slammed the phone down on the hook before he had a chance to respond.

The nerve of him! I was beginning to regret that he was the one who helped me come to after my fall last weekend. For once, I wished it was Lavender who was there to help. I closed the planner and shoved it in my bag as I did my best to get through the rest of my day distraction-free.

~o~

The next few days dragged on, and the reminders of Jenny seeing Harry were enough to make me want to bang my head against my desk and smash my computer in. Harry never returned after lunch on Tuesday, and when I walked into his office on Wednesday, a new frame made its home on his desk. Inside was a picture of him with her. I thought that was fast, but I wasn’t about to say it out loud.

Jenny came in Wednesday afternoon and hung out in Harry’s office, learning all the ins and outs of his job, which I guess was nice. I could keep tabs on them and knew that at least they weren’t having sex in his office. The downside was I couldn’t get my own work done since I was too distracted by their vomit-worthy cuteness through the windows that connected the two spaces.

Thursday evening I came home from my seminar and had the unfortunate experience of running into them snogging outside Jenny’s door. I was mortified and just wanted to get inside my own flat without being caught. It didn’t happen, though. I dropped my keys as I fumbled with getting them in the lock, which broke the pair out of their passionate embrace. Harry made some awkward comment about not realizing I lived so close. Thankfully the walls were thick so I didn’t have to listen to them doing things all night.

Work used to be a comfort for me and I couldn’t wait to get to my job every morning, but this week flipped everything upside down. I just wanted to get to the weekend where I could distance myself from them. That hope was short lived though when I saw Teddy running into the office.

“Hermione!” he shouted when he saw me.

“Hey, Teddy!” I said as I gave him a hug. Teddy Lupin was Harry’s ‘little brother’. He’d been paired with the teen through his volunteer work at the Boys and Girls Club, and it’d been a perfect match.

“Are you ready for the game?” I asked him.

Teddy was dressed in his football jersey, and I knew he was waiting for Harry to take him to the sports complex where he played during the summer season. Harry never missed a game.

“Yeah! I’ve got a good feeling about today. I really think we’re going to win. Harry promised to run some drills with me before the game starts. Where is he anyways? He said he wanted me to meet someone.” Teddy looked at me quizzically.

“I think he’s in his office. Let’s go see!”

I walked next door and sure enough, Jenny was in his office, and they were making eyes at each other. Knocking on the door to break them up, I announced Teddy’s arrival. I watched as Harry rushed over.

“Teddy! Hey, bud. There’s someone I want you to meet. This is Jenny,” Harry introduced the beautiful redhead that was standing to his side.

“It’s nice to meet you, Teddy,” Jenny said with a warm smile.

“Hey. Are you Harry’s girlfriend?” he asked unabashedly.

Jenny laughed. “I am. So, you play football?” she asked interestedly.

I watched as Teddy nodded. I was surprised to see Jenny so friendly towards him. She did not seem like the type to like kids, but she seemed really genuine. It made me wish I knew her better than I did; not that I hadn’t tried, which made me wonder how open she was with Harry.

We arrived at the sports complex, and Jenny and I settled on the stands while Harry went to the field to warm up with Teddy. Harry wasn’t the coach, but he helped out and hosted clinics for the kids from time to time. He always looked so young and carefree when he was playing football, and I loved that about him.

“Harry is absolutely everything I could have ever dreamed of in a man. Have I thanked you for introducing us? Because I feel like I owe you my life,” Jenny told me.

Great, she’s falling in love with him. I felt my grip on reality slip even further, and I was clutching to a nonexistent hope that this wasn’t going to last.

“It’s...nothing,” I said. Deciding to change the subject, I asked, “What do you think about Teddy? Isn’t he great?”

“He’s the coolest teenager I’ve ever met! He seems like he’s got a good head on his shoulders,” Jenny commented as they watched.

“He’s an orphan too, you know. I think that’s why Harry hit it off with him. They’ve got a lot in common. If he could adopt Teddy, he would in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s trying to make that happen.”

“I think that would be great for both of them!” Jenny said sincerely.

“Do you want a big family someday? Lots of kids?” I asked her, trying to learn a little bit more about her background.

“Kids, yes. A lot? No. I don’t want to subject my own future family to a life like that. I know what it’s like,” she said as her voice trailed off.

Before I could ask her what she meant by that, Harry was waving over to us, signalling for Jenny to join them. As she ran over, I pondered her answer. It implied she had a larger family than she let on. I only knew about the one brother in London, whom I’d never met in the five years I’d known her, and she rarely talked about her parents. Though I was pretty sure they were both alive and well.

I watched as Jenny interacted with Harry and Teddy. I saw her shake her head at something they said, and then it looked like they were teaching her certain moves. That completely baffled me. I thought she told me she was an athletic football trainer. What did she say when I’d asked her about it? That’s right! She said ‘something like that.’ Something strange was going on here, and I was starting to develop a bad feeling about it.

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t going to let myself go there. Not yet, at least. I needed more concrete evidence first. That’s what I resolved to as Harry and Jenny came back over and we settled in to watch the game.

~o~

Luna’s wedding was Saturday, so the reprieve I was hoping to find from Harry and Jenny was delayed, and now I’d only have Sunday to pretend my life was what it had been a week ago. Lavender and I were both in the wedding, so we were dressed in bright yellow evening gowns because Luna believed the colour should be a vital part of weddings since it’s supposed to bring happiness to the newlyweds.

The dresses were made of a polyester material for the long, flowy skirts, and the upper half was a delicate floral lace pattern. The neckline was strapless, with flutter sleeves that were off the shoulder.

“I still can’t believe we have to wear these dresses,” Lavender hissed as I was pinning the sunflower to her hair.

“They’re not terrible,” I told her.

“Oh, so you don’t mind looking like a hippie? And this color! I’m completely washed out and look sick. I’d take that taffeta lilac dress any day,” she continued complaining.

“It’s not your day, it’s Luna’s,” I reminded her. “Now come on, we’ve got an aisle to walk down.” I shoved her bouquet in her hands as we lined ourselves up for the procession.

While we were standing by Luna’s side during the ceremony, I couldn’t help that my eye was drawn to where Harry and Jenny were sitting. They were smiling and whispering things to each other.

I tried so hard to pry my eyes away, but I couldn’t stop staring. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a smile on my face. Lip reading was not my forte, but I was certain I just saw Harry mouth ‘I love you.’ My suspicion was confirmed when I saw Jenny’s look of surprise before she grinned and said it back to him.

I knew my smile had faltered, but there was nothing I could do to fix it, and I prayed the photographers weren’t flashing any pictures. Thankfully Lavender also witnessed the same thing, no doubt following my gaze to see what was upsetting me. I caught her disgusted look out of the corner of my eye, and that helped me fake a smile through the rest of the night, no matter how much I was hurting on the inside.

~o~

I was wrapping up at the office late on Wednesday night. I had a couple of manuscripts that I needed to drop off on Harry’s desk and then I could go home to relax with a glass of wine. I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked over to Harry’s office, setting the manuscripts down on the corner of his desk.

As I was about to head back out the door, I noticed something sticking out from under another folder that was splayed on his workspace. Moving the folder, I realized it was his wallet. I quickly scanned his desk calendar and saw that he was having dinner with Jenny at Valentini’s. It was still early, but I figured I could meet him there. I was sure he’d need it, after all.

When I got to the restaurant, I entered to find it completely empty. I looked around, thinking I’d gotten the day or time wrong, but then I saw Harry. A quartet started playing Italian music at my arrival, and Harry turned around with an excited, anxious look on his face.

After seeing me, he made a ‘cut’ motion with his hand and said, “No, guys, she’s not the one.”

The music immediately stopped and the musicians reset themselves as I looked around in shock. “Hermione, what are you doing here?” Harry asked, snapping me back to reality.

“Y-you forgot your wallet,” I said as I walked forward, my arm extended to hand it to him.

“Oh, er, thanks.” He didn’t seem concerned in the slightest as he tucked it into his jacket pocket.

“I’m sorry. I should go—” I turned around and walked a few paces when Jenny came around the corner.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“That’s her! She’s here, she’s the one,” I heard Harry say from behind me.

Immediately, the music began playing and a banner was dropped that read, ‘Will you marry me?’ Padfoot came from who knew where with a small box tied to his collar. This couldn’t be happening.

I tried to shrink away and hide, but somehow I couldn’t escape. I looked back and forth from Harry, who had extricated the box from the dog and gotten on one knee, to Jenny, who looked like she was in complete shock.

“Jenny, I know it’s only been a few days, but you’re everything I’ve ever hoped for, and I just know you’re the one for me. I can’t imagine my life without you. Maybe this is rushed, but I’ve waited long enough to find you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, of course!” I heard Jenny say as her head was nodding vigorously.

I watched as Harry stood up and slid the enormous solitaire diamond onto her finger and they shared a tender moment. I thought I was going to vomit. I needed to get out of there.

“I’ll see myself out,” I mumbled. “Congratulations, both of you. I’m so happy for you,” I said as I side stepped myself away.

My feet carried me out of the restaurant, and I stopped at the edge of the sidewalk to lean against a streetlight. Harry and Jenny were engaged after only knowing each other for less than two weeks. How was I still desperately waiting and hoping for my own love story to begin, when Jenny’s had fallen right into her lap without even looking. And to the man I was determined was meant to be mine! Everything around me was crumbling, so I did the only thing I could think of that might help take some of the pain away.

I needed someone who wasn’t privy to the situation. Who wouldn’t judge me for being heartbroken over a man who never gave me the time of day. So, I opened my Filofax and pulled out my phone to dial the number that was written like graffiti over every page. He answered after four rings.

“Hello?” There was an air of formality in his voice that I wasn’t used to.

I took a deep breath and hoped I wouldn’t regret this. “So, about that drink…”

#romione #romione muggle au #27 dresses inspired #ron x hermione #side hinny

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anywhozits · 4 years ago

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All I Really Want Chapter 3

Rating: T

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: A look into Kristoff and Anna's best friend Friday night tradition.

Notes: I apologize in advance for my dumb sense of humor ;)

Read on Ao3

Kristoff and Anna sat at their favorite hole-in-the-wall and somewhat ramshackle diner, Oaken’s House, on a decidedly crisp but also unseasonably warm March evening. It was windy, a little bit at least, so they opted to sit indoors.

The food was… decent. Only once had they gotten food poisoning and they’d since decided to never mention that again. Or was getting food poisoning even once a bad thing?

Oh well. They loved Oaken’s anyway.

And tonight, they were back with gusto. In his typical fashion, Oaken had welcomed them with a huge smile and his adorable sing-songy voice before leading them to their favorite inside table.

They sat on the diner’s signature extremely uncomfortable white plastic chairs and then they ordered their usual—a combination of something so gross but also so perfect that they came to the reasonable conclusion that they could never deviate. Absolutely any time they found themselves at Oaken’s House on a Friday night they ordered mozzarella sticks plus an Oreo milkshake.

Two delicacies that on their own sounded pretty normal... but Anna and Kristoff were the type to assure absolutely everyone they ever came in contact with that they were far from normal. So naturally they dipped those mozzarella sticks in the milkshake. Hardcore. At least five dips a stick. And the dairy overload was enough to send them over to an entirely new level of friendship since Anna always got super gassy after these nights and Kristoff of course cared absolutely zero.

The best tradition. Their favorite tradition.

Mouth already half full of milkshake covered mozzarella stick, Anna spoke, “Hans and I are going to Five Crowns tomorrow.”

“Ooh. Fancy.” Kristoff raised his eyebrows.

“Mmhmm,” Anna said, already prepping her next bite by dipping, dipping, and dipping it into the milkshake. “I’ve only been there once for my dad’s birthday, too. It was a whole six-hour affair and I totally cried because it was so boring. Like.” She popped it into her mouth. Chew, chew, chew. “So. Boring.”

Kristoff gave her a sympathetic smile. A smile she appreciated. Because... there were a lot of people in her life she felt she could never dish about her parents to. Never, ever. It was like…

She had much to be thankful for, sure. She didn’t have to worry about money the way Kristoff did. She didn’t have to worry about much at all, really.

So sometimes she felt guilty complaining.

But Kristoff… Kristoff never made her feel guilty. Kristoff made her feel like every single eye roll, every single annoyed grumble, every single ounce of negativity that coated the relationship with her family was completely founded.

And that meant the world to her.

She was thankful for him—always. Every single day. Even if it meant she was just a little sister in his eyes. Yes, she definitely still shuddered at that thought. But.

Even if…

It was worth it. Because she had him. She had Friday nights at Oaken’s House.

And… she had him.

She had someone who would talk with her and listen to her and really understand her.

She had him…

“What’s the latest on your status with Hans? Are you um… boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever?” Kristoff’s voice snapped her out of her train of thought. Her head jerked a little bit at the jarring sensation of rejoining reality and a piece of mozzarella stick fell from her mouth to the table.

Both Anna and Kristoff laughed. Classic Anna.

And when she shrugged and popped the fallen mozzarella stick back in her mouth, Kristoff laughed harder.

“I’m sorry, Kris. I think I blacked out there for a second.” She giggled again. “What did you say?”

“I was asking,” he started. “About Hans. You know—what you’re—um… if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend—”

“Oh. No. He hasn’t said anything about that. I think we’re just…” She didn’t want to say friends. Because they weren’t really just friends. In fact—just friends was exactly what Anna and Kristoff were. And Hans and Anna had a much different relationship than she and Kristoff had…

Like… there was no way in the literal seventh ring of hell that Anna and Hans were at the same stage in a relationship as Anna and Kristoff were. Because—well, she and Hans were in love with one another. Literally in love. For real in love. Not the friendship love she had with Kristoff. That maybe teetered on romantic love sometimes. But not all the time. And…um. Never mind.

Back to Hans. She loved Hans for real. 100% of the time she had romantic love for Hans. Plus they’d said they loved each other probably two hundred times since the night they met. So they loved each other. Duh.

But… maybe they were just friends. Friends with… benefits? Okay. Benefits. Yes. That was what set her relationship with Hans apart. Those two words. With. Benefits. She had no benefits with Kristoff.

She gulped. “I think we’re just friends.”

“But… you love him?” Kristoff’s face contorted into a scowl as he chomped on another sweet and oozing mozzarella stick.

“Mmhmm,” she said, slurping up some of the milkshake.

“You loved him after one night?”

“Mmhmm.” Anna giggled a little bit. They had definitely talked about this before. Kristoff loved bringing up the whole I-love-you-on-the-first-night business.

“Shit.”

And he always reacted the same way. So judgy, Kristoff. For someone who didn’t know anything about love or relationships or... other stuff like that.

Anna pouted playfully. “What gives, Kris? Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” She made a show of batting her eyes when she said this.

But Kristoff was far from amused. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted out his bottom lip. “Sure I have. I just don’t believe in it is all.”

“Okay,” she huffed. “Fine.”

“He says he loves you too?”

“He said it first. If you remember. I told you all this like, the morning after.” And probably six or seven times since then… he couldn’t let it rest.

“Yeah.”

Anna sighed. He seemed grumpier about this than usual. “Are you trying to use some super coded Kristoff-speak to tell me you don’t like him or something?”

“He’s whatever,” Kristoff mumbled.

“So, you don’t like him.”

He didn’t answer for a bit; his sustained silence already proving her point. They’d never bridged this part of the Hans conversation before. It always stopped after Kristoff denied the existence of love at first sight and abruptly changed the subject.

But eventually, he spoke up. “Does it matter what I think?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“But does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I like him all right. I guess. But… I don’t really know him. I don’t really know anything about him at all. Wait—how much do you even know about the guy?”

Oh, snap. Was he jealous? Why did Anna get the sense that maybe he was jealous? Or... maybe he was just concerned. Not jealous. Because he cared about her. Because he was her best friend. That made sense. That definitely made the most sense.

Not jealous.

“I know you’re worried, Kris. It’s cute. I appreciate it. But I can deal with it myself, okay?”

His eyes were downcast onto the plate. He played with the mozzarella stick a little bit. “Okay.”

“Seriously. Thank you,” Anna said cheerily, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of his gray Volcom hoodie so he looked up at her. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

And then she impulsively grabbed his free hand and held it, noting and admiring the fact that the weight of his big, calloused hands made her feel a healthy mix of safe and comforted and respected. He smiled softly at her, squeezing her hand.

Her heartbeat quickened, butterflies unleashed themselves in her belly, and she pulled her hand away, kind of terrified.

They’d held hands before… as just friends. But she’d never had this visceral of a reaction to it.

She had Hans. She loved Hans. She needed to focus on him. Not get way too attached to someone who would never like her back.

The second she gathered her thoughts, though, she heard the loud and unmistakable sound of her breaking wind. Cutting the cheese. Whatever.

She giggled. “Oops—my bad—gassy!” And then she started laughing uncontrollably, covering her face in her hands.

Kristoff joined in, unrestrained laughter making tears pool in his eyes.

But then Anna reached for the milkshake, gearing up to take a few more sips. Kristoff furrowed his eyebrows, still laughing, still crying and yelled, “Anna!”

“What? You gotta get used to my gas, man. Comes with the territory.”

“Oh, I’m plenty used to it.”

“Good. Now pass me another mozz stick.”

And he did.

Mouth once again full, Anna decided to change the subject. “So how are things going with Pissed Off Kids?” Pissed Off Kids was the band Kristoff and his other best friend Sven had founded in the fifth grade as one of the action items on their long list of ‘ways to stage the ultimate rebellion.’ They played their music in Sven’s garage and took breaks to skateboard. It was all incredibly cliché.

“We’ve got a gig next weekend. If you wanna come. It’s at this random place in Anaheim, but they’re paying all right. I doubt many people are gonna make it out there—”

Anna rolled his eyes. “As if, Kris. You’re gonna pack the place and you know it.”

His cheeks flushed red. “Well, um… either way it should be fun. Gotta test out some of our new stuff.”

“Covers or original?” Anna seen enough of his shows to know Pissed off Kids’ typical cover song rotation. Usually any number of songs off of Green Day’s Dookie, The Offspring’s Smash, or Blink-182’s Cheshire Cat. Nirvana was deemed too holy to even attempt to replicate. Kristoff’s words, of course. RIP Kurt Cobain.

“Both.”

“Awesomesauce,” Anna beamed. She loved hearing about his music. He was just so passionate about it—literally everything related to alternative and grunge rock. If he really got going, he could talk her ear off about the intricacies of the movement itself, how it had grown, how each of his favorite bands added their own flavor and their own perspective. She loved it. Every single second of it. “Tell me about the new ones you wrote.”

“Ah, well… there’s only one of those.” He popped another mozzarella stick into his mouth. “It’s called When. Mostly written by Sven.”

“Ooh it’s all rhymey and poetic already.”

Kristoff laughed. “I guess I wrote most of the chorus, though. Come to think of it.”

“Of course you did. Because you’re the best songwriter slash guitar-player slash singer who’s ever walked this earth.”

“I bet there are a lot of other people who deserve that title.”

“No,” she said. “Just you.”

“Kurt Cobain, for one.”

She ignored him entirely. “So… When, huh? Sounds so… emo?”

Anna raised her eyebrows at Kristoff, trying to gauge his reaction. Was she hot or was she cold?

His left eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. Confirmed. His new song was definitely emo.

“Okay, right. No duh it’s emo. Noted. But… that’s obvious coming from you,” Anna said. Kristoff chuckled softly in response. “All right! I’ve got a great idea. Let me guess the chorus. Okay?”

He laughed again. “Okay. Have at it.”

“Ummm…” she scrunched her lips together tightly, thinking, thinking, thinking. “When… will my best friend stop insisting we drink milkshakes every week because they make her fart up a storm?”

Kristoff laughed. “Nope. Try again.”

Anna furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. “When… will Anna give in to my begging and decide she wants to learn how to skateboard, so we can finally go to the skate park together?”

His laughs intensified as he reached to take a sip of the milkshake. “No!”

“Huh. Weird. I really thought those made the most sense…” Now she laughed. “OH! I’ve got it this time: When will my best friend in the entire world finally get it through her head that she’s not someone who can make the word dude work?”

Kristoff started laughed so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath. Soon enough, a little bit of Oreo milkshake shot out of his nose and then trickled down his upper lip.

Noticing this, Anna lost it. Completely.

The sight of white liquid with chunks of black cookie rolling down his face paired with the sight of him clutching his face in an unfortunate brain-freeze like state sent her into a frenzy.

Kristoff shot only-somewhat playful daggers at her. “You can’t make me laugh when I’m drinking a milkshake!”

“Well, you shouldn’t drink a milkshake when I’m being funny!” Anna grinned. “Which is all the time, really. So guess milkshakes are out. I’m too gassy and you’re too… into-my-jokes.”

“Not funny,” Kristoff said. “That kinda hurt. It was like… one big brain-freeze.”

“Um—dude? Chill out.”

He smirked. “I stand by it. You can’t pull off dude.”

“Would’ve been an epic song lyric, though,” Anna offered, but Kristoff shook his head. “So what is it, then? Your big brilliant title-sequence chorus lyric thingie?”

“It’s…” Kristoff took a deep breath, a flash of drama overcoming his face as he began to speak, “When will the clouds finally part?”

“Ah.” Anna nodded. “See? Emo.”

“I guess.” Shrugging, Kristoff looked down at the table, bashful all of a sudden.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, though. It’s been awhile since you’ve written one about me.”

Kristoff looked back up and caught her gaze. “I’ve never written a song about you, Anna.”

“Mmhmm,” Anna teased. “A likely story.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I!”

They both burst out into uncontrolled laughter. Kristoff clutched his face in a futile attempt to keep the milkshake very much out of his nose which only made Anna double over in the chair, hyperventilating with giggles.

Kristoff’s laughter was contagious. Anna could laugh for hours and hours only answering to Kristoff’s unamused smirk but when Kristoff laughed… it was like everything in Anna’s soul shifted into place. She didn’t have to think about anything but that moment—their relationship. The warmth and kindness that his laughter evoked made Anna’s heart swell.

She would do just about anything to hear that laugh.

Once they both calmed, she took a moment to look at him. He smiled so widely that his eyes crinkled. That also made her heart swell. “You said your show’s next weekend?”

“Yeah. Saturday night at 11.”

“Ah, well,” Anna shrugged, trying to hide her growing smile. “That’s past my bedtime.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Hey! You stole my punch line! I was gonna say ‘That’s past my bedtime…NOT’ but then you have to jump in with your whole Grumpy McGrump Buzzkill business.”

“I’m sorry, feistypants,” he said, chuckling.

“Thank you.” She smiled again. “And I was kidding, seriously. You know I’ll be there.”

His eyes crinkled again as he grinned widely, sincerely, softly. “I know.”

And she would. She’d always be there for him. Be there with him. Always.

#kristanna #frozen #fanfic #fanfiction #myfics #90sau

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petersasteria · 4 years ago

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168 Hours - Haz Osterfield (2)

Pairing: Haz x Reader

Haz Osterfield Masterlist || Ultimate Masterlist || 168 Hours Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which your son’s wish comes true and it turns horrible. Now, he has to fix it in 168 hours.

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 James Osterfield is Y/N and Harrison's first born. He came into their lives unexpectedly, but he was a great surprise and a great addition to their relationship. They got married when Harley was three years old. Y/N's mom never got over what she did to Tom. Y/N's mom definitely took it to heart. Y/N's dad never really liked Tom, but he didn't show it and Y/N was grateful for that. Y/N's dad preferred Harrison and he loved Harrison for his daughter.

Y/N's mom didn't like Harrison, mainly because he wasn't Tom. Y/N and Tom were very civil and they're now good friends; putting the past behind them. Tom was even there at Y/N's wedding. Regardless of being just friends, Y/N's mom still wished that Y/N would've stuck with Tom. Y/N was angry at her mom for thinking that way and for making Harrison cry himself to sleep every night.

This little schism was instantly fixed when Harley was born. Harley is definitely their little angel; their saving grace. He was the golden boy and he was always the one showered with every love and gift.

Of course, all good things must come to an end because all of that changed when he turned four.

His sister, Harper, was born when he was four years old. He was confused when everyone started paying less attention to him. He was everyone's favorite then and now he wasn't the favorite because of a certain baby girl. He could've sworn he just blinked.

Harley took it badly. Despite that, he loved his parents. He started to accept everyone favoring his sister with a heavy heart, but the moment he knew when he felt like a waste of space in the family was when he turned nine and his little brother Harvey was born.

He hated his life. He hated his siblings for robbing him of his spotlight. The moment Harper was born, he did everything to be noticed. His uncle Tom loved him, though. Harley is and always will be, Tom's favorite. Tom spoiled the kid so much and treated him like his own. Naturally, Harley told Tom all about his jealousy.

"Just remember that I'm always here for you and you're my favorite." Tom said to Harley when he took him on a weekend trip to Disneyland Paris.

"But why am I your favorite?" Harley asked. He wondered why his uncle Tom loved to hang out with him all the time.

"Because you just are." Tom shrugged. "Besides, everyone is already paying enough attention to Harper. Someone needs to pay attention to you too and that someone is me. You can always count on me, buddy."

"Thanks uncle Tom." Harley smiled brightly. Tom chuckled and ruffled his hair, "Ready to go on the next ride?"

"Yeah!"

"Let's go!"

Harley told Tom everything. He told Tom about wanting to learn guitar and Tom bought him his first guitar the second Harley told him he wanted to learn. Harley was over the moon when Tom bought him his first guitar. And for a while, everyone's attention turned back to Harley and they were happy for him.

Now that there's a new addition to the family, his short lived spotlight was given to Harvey, his little brother. Harley wanted to give everything he had in exchange for a bit more attention. After all, he was deprived of it.

Harley is now ten years old and he signed up for his school's talent show with his best friend. He told his parents all about it and they promised they'd be there. He also invited Tom, but Tom had already made a very important business commitment that he can't back out of. However, Tom promised Harley that he'd make it up to him the day after.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Harley asks his parents before walking out the door. Harley's getting a lift from his best friend, Jack, because they want to practice together.

"Of course! We'll be there." Harrison smiles at him and kisses his forehead. "Good luck!"

"Thanks. Bye mum!" Harley calls out. Y/N looks up from Harvey's toys on the floor and smiles at her eldest, "Bye, sweetheart! See you later! You'll smash it!"

That was this afternoon. The talent show started at 6pm. It's now 7:30 and Harley was peeking through the side of the stage to catch a glimpse of his parents, but they weren't there.

"Please welcome Harley Osterfield and Jack Smith!" the host says.

"What?! It can't be our turn yet. My parents aren't here yet." Harley gasps as he looks at Jack.

"But we have to get out there or they won't let us play anymore." Jack says. "We've been practicing for ages and I know that you don't want to waste it. So, let's get out there and play!"

Harley nods, "You're right. Fuck my parents."

Jack's eyes widen, "That's a bad word, but I agree. Let's rock it!" Jack grabs his drumsticks and runs on stage with Harley running behind him whilst holding his guitar.

Harley plays the intro chords to "Don't Stop Believing" and the crowd cheers. It was a secret that Harley could sing really well. Even Tom didn't know. This talent show was supposed to be a surprise, but none of them showed up.

"Just a small town girl living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere..." Harley sings just in time.

After the song, they bow and the crowd cheers for them. They run backstage and hug each other. Jack pulls away, "I think we did great!"

"Yeah! I hope we win!" Harley smiles.

They did win. They each received a trophy instead of sharing just one. Harley is really disappointed at his parents, but Mrs. Smith offers to buy the kids dinner at their favorite restaurant.

It's now 9:45pm and Harley just got home. He waves goodbye to his best friend and Mrs. Smith before ringing the doorbell. The door quickly opens only to reveal Y/N. Harley pushes past her and walks straight upstairs.

Y/N sighs, knowing that her eldest is very upset. She locks the front door and motions for Harrison to follow her to Harley's bedroom. They walk to his room and they knock.

"Go away!" Harley says through the door. He didn't have to open the door to see who it is. He just knows.

"Harley, we're so sorry we didn't go." Harrison sighs. "We knew how much it meant to you and-"

The door suddenly opens and Harley looks at them angrily, "No, you don't know how much it meant to me because if you did, you would've went. But you didn't!"

They enter his room and close the door. Harley sits on the edge of his bed, facing away from the two people who were once his greatest heroes.

"But you have to understand that we got so caught up with work and taking care of your siblings that we forgot." Y/N explains.

"Oh, here we go again with my siblings." Harley groans. "Would it hurt you to spare at least one second for me?! Or do you really not have any time for me at all?"

"Harley, don't be ridiculous. We always spend time with you!" Harrison rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Harley looks his father in the eye and asks, "Oh, yeah? When was the last time you took me out for ice cream?"

"Last we-"

"Just you and me, dad." Harley adds.

Harrison thinks for a moment and he couldn't remember. Harley was right after all. Harley scoffs, "I knew it. Sometimes I wish that uncle Tom is my dad. He gives me presents and he takes me to different places and he loves me."

Harrison's face drops and his heart sinks to his stomach as soon as Harley said those vile words, "What?"

"You heard me." Harley sasses.

"Harley James Osterfield, that is no way to talk to your father like that." Y/N says sternly. She knew that was Harrison's biggest insecurity. She just couldn't believe that their own son would say such things.

"Uncle Tom pays attention to me and he was always there for me when I needed someone." Harley tells them. "While you were busy with Harper and Harvey, uncle Tom was listening to my stories from school."

"But we're your parents." Harrison glares. "We'll always be your parents and there's nothing you could do about it. So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with us mister."

"I wish I wasn't!" Harley shouts.

"Keep your voice down! Your brother and sister are sleeping." Y/N hisses. Harley frustratedly shouts, "I hate you!!"

"That's it!" Harrison yells. "You're grounded!"

"Oooh, I'm scared!" Harley says sarcastically as Harrison shakes his head and walks out of his beloved son's room. Y/N sighs and leaves too and closes the door behind her.

"I'm sorry about Harley." Y/N sighs and pulls Harrison into a hug. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. We all say things we don't mean when we're angry."

"I think he meant it, Y/N." Harrison whispers. Y/N pulls away and they look at each other and sigh before going back to the living room to clean up.

Harley brushes his teeth and plops on his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas. He plays a game on his iPad and checks the time.

11:11 PM

Harley becomes conflicted. He heard from his female friends that people make wishes when the clock strikes 11:11. He sighs and gives it a shot.

"I don't know if this is true, but I wish mum and dad never met!" Harley says angrily. He yawns and goes to sleep after that.

Harley starts to feel uncomfortable and slightly cold. He could've sworn he had a blanket last night. He opens his eyes and looks around.

'Oh, I'm outside.' Harley thinks as he closes his eyes again. 'Oh my god, I'm outside.'

His eyes widen in realization and he quickly sits up and looks around in panic.

"Uh, hi?" a voice of a man says. Harley looks up and gasps, "Who-Who are you?? Where's my house?! Where are my parents? Where's Harper and Harvey?!"

Harley frantically asks the man in front of him. "Whoa, okay slow down. I don't know what happened and I don't know who those people are." the man says as extends a hand to help Harley up. The boy hesitantly takes his hand and the man helps him up, "I'm Amadis. I'm the angel of wishes."

Harley scrunches up his face in confusion, "Are you joking? There's no such thing as an angel of wishes!"

'This Amadis guy must be pulling my leg.' Harley thinks.

"Yes there is and it's me." Amadis argues with a smirk. "I'm here because someone wished for something messed up and I assume that you're the one who wished for something messed up. Now tell me what you wished for."

"I don't remem-" Harley's confused face turns into shock as the thing he wished for last night hits him, "Oh my god, I wished that my parents never met! I wished it last night!"

Harley squeezes his eyes shut. 'There's no way this 11:11 thing is true!' Harley thinks.

Amadis raises his eyebrows, "First of all, you broke commandment number three which is '𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐧'. And why on earth did you wish that?! That really is messed up."

'Because I was really mad at them.' Harley thinks to himself.

"What do I do?" Harley looks at Amadis with tears in his eyes. Amadis' expression softens, "Before I got here, Gabriel told me that I'm here for one week. I guess my task is to help you get your parents back together in one week."

"Okay but how?" Harley asks, wanting to get it over with. Amadis shrugs, "I don't know anything about your parents. You should at least know their love story."

'Love story?!' Harley thinks.

Harley doesn't know much about his parents' 'love story'. All he knows is that they met at a book shop and fell in love. His parents never said any detail.

"We'll tell you when you're older so you can understand." Harrison told his beloved son. Harley pouts, "Why not now?"

Harrison looked at him and sighed, "It's complicated."

"Oh, I know that!" Harley lies with a smile on his face. His stomach growls and he and Amadis make eye contact. Harley gives him a sheepish smile, "Oops. I'm hungry."

"Same here. I never got to eat before coming here." Amadis chuckles. "Gabriel told me that everything is ready for me at the angels' apartment building. I've been up in heaven for a long time now and I've been reading maps so, I know where that is."

Harley nods and they start to walk away from the empty lot where his house used to be. "I'm Harley, by the way." Harley realizes he never introduced himself and if his parents were here, they'd tell him off for being rude.

"I'm Amadis."

"You already said that." Harley rolls his eyes.

"I was just being polite."

* * * *

𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ???

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐱

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield blurbs #harrison osterfield one shots #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield #haz osterfield imagines #haz osterfield one shots #haz osterfield blurbs #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

25 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1012

survey by chasingghosts

If you have a job, who's your closest friend at work? I wanna say it was Justine at first, but it will probably shift to Angel in the near future because we were recently put in the same team. Our little intern family was adorable though and I hope we’ll all always stay friends.

Do you have any exercise equipment in your home? Yes, my mom has a rowing equipment thingy and a pair of dumbbells. I know she was also thinking of getting a bike, but that plan never panned out.

Were your parents born in the same country they now live in? Yes. We’ve always lived here and never migrated. Though I wish we did.

How did you celebrate New Year’s last year? Playing Mario Kart on the Switch with my cousins the entire evening and then going up on the rooftop at midnight to have a 360º view of the fireworks, which always makes me happy. And of course, deleted social media to avoid everyone’s wholesome family posts.

What would you do if you found a wallet containing $100 on the street? I think I’d be more concerned about whether there are IDs inside or not so that I could locate or contact the owner. I never really think of stealing.

Have you told anyone you love them today? Angela. I had also gone back on Facebook to share recent life updates and several relatives sent their congratulations. I replied today, thanking them but also telling each of them that I love them.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 4, I think. I fell asleep at 4 AM, woke up at around 7:45.

Are you in any physical or emotional pain right now? Ugh, both. Today I stubbed my toe so hard on the last stair going up and the nailbed ended up bleeding so much, so apart from it hurting like a bitch I also had to concentrate on not throwing up or fainting altogether because of the blood. And of course, emotional pain is always lurking around.

What's the time right now? 6:07 PM.

Is the sun still up, or is it dark? It’s completely dark. My only light source at the moment is my laptop screen and the backlight on the keyboard.

Have you seen all The Hunger Games films that have been released so far? I’ve only seen the first one because they aired it so many times on one of the local movie channels here at one point. But since I was never really a fan, I didn’t go out of my way to see the next two that came out.

Is there an automatic fog light in your yard? No. But we do have a motion sensor light.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? Around 45 minutes ago to get Band-Aids for my toe.

How many living grandparents do you still have? Three. I’m grateful that they are all still super healthy, but I also always miss my grandpa. The four of them were really close in-laws, and I miss seing them as a complete set.

Are you currently in a relationship? Not anymore.

Have you ever heard people having sex in the next room? No, actually. If anything, we’re probably the ones who were heard in the past.

What are your plans for the rest of the day? Have dinner with my family, eat and savor the rest of my Monte Cristo sandwich (I made my first one today!); maybe take a few more surveys because it’s my last weekend being unemployed and my plate will for sure get very busy in the next few days; and try to avoid the sads by watching Good Mythical Morning.

How many times have you been sick this year? Once, which is usually the case every year.

Is there a garage or carport attached to your house? We do have a carport, yes.

Were you born somewhere other than a hospital? Nope, you got it at hospital.

Do you fold or scrunch? Man I thought you were talking about poker until I Googled what the hell this was referring to. I use a bidet, man. Then I fold to dry the area off.

Have you ever been on a strict diet and exercise regime? No. I never really needed to, so I’ve never felt like getting on one.

Who did you text today, and what did you talk about? I messaged Andi because I saw a Facebook post that reminded me of them and our thesis. That’s pretty much it for today, at least so far.

What colour is your toothbrush? Maroon and white.

Do you have a favourite author? Not really.

Is Christmas a joyful time for you, or just plain stressful? Stressful because of the triggers, and I imagine it’d even be sadder this year since our extended family can’t be together. My mom already mentioned we'll most likely settle for a family reunion/party on Zoom, so we’re definitely not meeting up and relatives living in different countries won’t fly here. I will start earning my first salaries in time for Christmas though, so I can’t wait to get things for myself(!!!) and my family. I’m already thinking of getting Super Smash Bros. Ultimate for the Switch so I’m crazy excited to get my hands on that.

How long do you usually take in the shower? 3-7 minutes. I don’t like taking too long.

Have you ever worked in an office? I did during my first internship. But my second one was a WFH situation and my upcoming job will be the same. Impossible to tell when we can be able to report to the office.

Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Dad or mom, whoever’s free to do so.

How many times have you been out of state that you can remember? Yeah, definitely answered this before...thanks Bzoink for promoting the same few surveys every few months, lol. I kinda do it all the time, actually. I live right on the border of Metro Manila and my home region.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel without your parents or older relatives? Yes. But the one time I did had still been paid for by my parents.

Do you prefer margarine or butter, and why? Butter. We don’t buy margarine, so I simply don’t get to have it a lot.

What time do you plan to wake up tomorrow? Idk, depends on what time I’m going to fall asleep tonight.

What is your favourite way to eat rice? Anything but rice cakes. Rice is...life lol

Have you ever been in serious trouble at work or school? Nah. I hate the idea of getting in trouble in any situation or getting reprimanded or punished, so I’ve always followed rules.

Do you have any strange fears or phobias that you're embarrassed of? I’m not embarrassed by it, but I prefer not to watch TV advertisements at night lol. Some effects or jingles can be spookier at that time.

Can you smell anything right now? I can faintly smell my sandwich, but that’s it.

Would you be scared if you saw 5 missed calls from one of your parents? Only if it’s from my mom. I wouldn’t worry too much if it came from my dad.

Have you ever kissed anyone under the mistletoe? No.

Do you own a pair of gumboots or wellies? Nah.

When was the last time you watched a movie? Around two weeks ago, but I didn’t finish it because I started crying too much.

Do you know anyone who struggles with a mental disorder? Yeah, a number of people.

What's your go-to activity when you're bored? Surveys.

Have you ever been vegan or vegetarian? No, but I opt for vegan dishes whenever there’s an available option.

Are you tired right now? A little bit, but I don’t want to sleep because it’s the weekenddddddddd. Might make myself a second cup of coffee to keep myself up.

#survey #surveys #ugh i took this already but was too far in before realizing #blah

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lilikags · 4 years ago

Text

Game Plan (Kenma Kozume)

Gamer soulmates do exist, huh.

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x female gamer reader Type: fluff, soulmate au Before read notes: The game referenced here is Epic Seven, sorry if you are confused but I think you get the idea... right?

You sighed. You didn't know what to do. It was gym class, the last class of the day. It was your least favorite class. They were doing volleyball, and you knew just about nothing about it, even though you had been forced to play it for years. You figured you'd forgotten how to play.

After changing into your gym uniform, you started to think about what you were going to do after school. It was a Friday, meaning that it was the weekend as soon as school ended. You were going to play games, since that's what you usually do. Roana's coming out today, huh. I guess I'm going to pull. She seems good. I have enough to pity in skystone, and I've got about 400 bookmarks. So, 80 summons without using skystones, and 3,800 skystones'll be used up if I do end up pitying. If I just do the daily missions, it'll take me around probably 80 days to get that back, not including the daily sign in prizes and the Re:Birth event, if I get stuff from that- (1)

"(y/n)! (y/n)! (y/n)!" you heard a voice call you. Looking up, probably after the third time you were called, you asked, "What's up?"

"Geez, your head's in the clouds! What'cha thinking about?" you best friend, (b/f/n),

"Hmm.... well, just what I was going to do later," you replied, knowing that (b/f/n) could see through you like just-polished (does that makes sense?) glass.

"What were you going-" (b/f/n) was interrupted by the teacher, who had started the class. She sorted the class into 4 groups, with 2 games going on at a time. You and (b/f/n) were separated, so you couldn't talk during class. You mostly just stood there and walked around, looking like you were trying. During your second game, your team and (b/f/n)'s teams played each other. (b/f/n) was really into it and made you participate for once.

When class was over, you went to the locker room to change, and as you were about to put your shirt on, (b/f/n) did a jump scare on you, which made you jump.

"What the heck, (b/f/n)?" You always hated jump scares, especially from (b/f/n), because her hands were always cold. Cold hands on bare skin (A/N: it sounds weird, but you're in the locker room. changing.) is always the worst.

"Heh! Got'cha again!" (b/f/n) laughed. You sighed. You finished changing and left the locker room. You started to think about your game plan for Epic Seven. (A/N: it's an amazing game, check it out!) You weren't too far into the game, and you'd just entered midgame by being able to auto Wyvern 11 and want to focus on building a golem team. You had already built and 6-starred Cermia, your nuker, and wanted to build Cecilia, your tank and defense breaker. (2) You were thinking about using either speed/hit sets or health/def/hit sets, when (b/f/n) scared you again.

"Can you just stop that already?" you asked (b/f/n), getting annoyed from her jump scares.

"Y'know, (y/n)..." (b/f/n) started.

"Yes?" you answered, curious to what she was going to say.

"Why don't we go to the mall later?" You were surprised that you didn't expect (b/f/n) to say that. It seemed very (b/f/n) though.

"Since when have I willingly gone to the mall?" you asked, not wanting to go.

"I heard there's a new anime store there~~" (b/f/n) tried to convince you. That was the reason you were going to go. You and (b/f/n) bonded over anime years ago, and you always watched every season's most popular anime. (3) So even though you spent more time playing games than watching anime, you were always on top of the trends and still loved it.

"Okay, I'll go," you answered, trying to hide the fact that you were actually excited.

Riiiiiing! Riiiiiing! The bell rang, meaning that the school day was over and you were finally free. You and (b/f/n) walked towards your lockers together, since they were right next to each other. You listened to her talk about fashion and other things like that. She'd gotten into that recently and was all over it.

Both of you finished gathering the stuff you needed over the weekend, and while at your lockers, you and (b/f/n) had decided to drop off your backpacks at (b/f/n)'s house, so that you could talk the whole day. You don't talk too much, but (b/f/n) does, and you don't mind her talking much.

(b/f/n) wanted to go to the clothing shops first. She had to go to some family reunion soon, so she had to buy something fancy. You accepted, knowing that (b/f/n) wouldn't forget about the anime store, because ever since she discovered Kimetsu no Yaiba: Demon Slayer, she's been all over it too, and you were 99% sure that new anime store would have Kimetsu no Yaiba merch.

You didn't know much about fashion, so (b/f/n) picked out the clothes for herself and asked you for a second opinion. While she was picking out clothes and trying them on, you had nothing to do, so you thought about the build you were going for. (A/N: for Cecilia, referenced earlier in the chapter) Your phone was almost dead, and you wanted to save the remaining battery in case your parents called or something. So, you borrowed (b/f/n)'s pen, which she carried everywhere for a reason you haven't been able to figure out for years, and started to write out your plan for building Cecilia.

"Hm?" Kenma noticed some pen marks on his skin all of a sudden. He and Kuroo were walking to practice when he noticed it.

"What? Did you notice something from your soulmate? ~~ Hmm~~~?" Kuroo teased him, knowing what was up.

"Mhm. She wrote something."

"Hmmm? Let me see," Kuroo leaned over to see what was being written.

Cecilia-

- Speed/hit set

- main stats: Effectiveness%, Def%, health%

- substats: effectiveness, def, health, eff. resist

"Hmmm... seems like game stats?" Kuroo figured. Kenma shook his head.

"Character build?" Kenma nodded, meaning that Kuroo's second guess was right.

"You know which game?"

"Epic Seven, I guess."

"Heh~~? So you do know. Maybe gamer soulmates do exist~~" Kenma didn't reply. The two walked into the court, and they began their daily volleyball training. Kenma noticed that there was something new written in few minute intervals. (A/n: does that make sense?) They had a common theme: Epic Seven builds. First was Cecilia, then Tamarinne, then Ravi, and so on.

"Woah! Your soulmate writes their skin?! Cool! Mine doesn't! I've tried lots of times, and they wouldn't respond!" Lev noticed what (y/n) was writing.

"I think they're for herself," Kenma muttered.

"Wait, (f/n)!" (b/f/n) called out. You turned around. "Hm?"

"You're walking too fast! I can't keep up!"

"You're just slow."

"Oh, come on!" (b/f/n) had to run to catch up with you. As you entered the store, one thing caught your eye. It was an Epic Seven Poster, which you went straight to.

(b/f/n) followed straight behind, and asked what this was about.

"It's an Epic Seven poster. I don't know who made it, but I'm buying it. It has Krau, Ludwig, Aither, Vildred, Destina, Yuna, Ras, Arky, Mercedes, Karin, Iseria, and best girl Angelica in it. It's totally worth." You explained, putting on a smirk and feeling like you're the smartest around.

"Oh, you really like this game," (b/f/n) said.

"Yeah, you didn't know? All this time?" you said back, trying to get at her for those jump scares.

"I just didn't know you liked it this much. Maybe I'll give it a try."

"Wait... really?!"

"Uh, yeah."

"We're going back to your house and getting you this game once I'm done here."

"Once WE'RE done here."

"Yes, once WE'RE done here. Yes, yes."

The two of you walked around, excitedly looking at the different merch they had there. You ended up buying lots of stuff, since you're a collector and love collecting things. Once the both of you got to (b/f/n)'s house, you took her phone out of her hands and downloaded Epic Seven. You charged yours while you were at it, and you gave it back to her once you got back and it loaded. Even with the tutorial, you explained everything in detail, and (b/f/n) knew she couldn't stop you, so she just listened and figured it would make understanding the game easier.

You had tons of notes on your hand at this point, so you figured you might as well write (b/f/n)'s username on there as well. You wrote it, along with her discord server, since (b/f/n) had gotten it recently and invited you to her server.

Kuroo was staying over at Kenma's for a sleepover, and they were playing Smash Ultimate. (A/n: if you don't know what this game is, you live under a rock.) Then, Kuroo noticed some more notes on Kenma's hands.

"There's more."

"Hm?"

"Your soulmate wrote more. Let me see~." Kenma lifted his hand from the controller for once, and Kuroo spotted a discord server and an Epic Seven username.

"Ooh, maybe they want you to join a server?"

"No way. It's probably for herself again. There wouldn't be any need to tell me."

"Let's join it! I want to see who's in it. Your soulmate'll be there!"

"I don't really care."

"I know you'll join it later 'cause you're curious."

"I don't really care."

"Well, I'm joining it."

"It's rude to just join other people's servers without their permission-"

"Whoever gets the link is welcome~~" Kenma sighed. He couldn't stop Kuroo at this point.

→ kuroo hopped into the server.

(b/f/n): Uh, how'd u get the server invite? idk who u r.

kuroo: I got it from my friend. His soulmate wrote it on her hand.

(b/f/n): Ah, I know who you're talking about. I think.

kuroo: Ooh, great! Let's introduce them!

(b/f/n): OMG YAAAS. I wanna see how their ship turns out~~

kuroo: Great minds think alike, let's take this to private chat

(b/f/n): 'kay- got it!

(y/n): You know I joined the server, right?

(b/f/n): ...

kuroo: ...

→ applepi joined the party.

applepi: Well, you can write your plans here. I don't mind.

(y/n): I don't mind either.

(y/n): Hey, applepi, if you're my soulmate, text me.

applepi: later

(y/n): now.

(b/f/n): wow, hasty now, eh?

(y/n): I just want to confirm.

(y/n): and when I read the word "hasty", i immediately thought of Haste. pretty high on the tier list imo.

kuroo: what?

(y/n):

(y/n): That's mah boi Haste. Ever since Melissa event. tho W. Schuri and A. Vil are higher on the list but they're ml so they're hard to get.

applepi: He's cool, but Roana's better.

(y/n): she ain't even out yet. tho best waifu now.

applepi: well, it's because she gives the revive buff... vampiric touch isn't that great compared to revive

kuroo: can you just take this to private

(y/n): thank you

Placeskip brought to you by Haiba Lev.

Soulmate: So, you're (y/n)?

(y/n): yeah. Wanna try going out? It seems pretty interesting how people instantly fall in love with their soulmates. I wanna test a theory.

Soulmate: ....

(y/n): I'm an expert on Epic Seven. I know "cheats". well not really, but farming gear gets better when you do it my way.

Soulmate: sure. ok.

(y/n): actually, I don't know your name yet. what is it?

Soulmate: Kozume Kenma. Just call me Kenma.

(y/n): vid call?

Kenma: .... not yet.

~~~END~~~ uwu

Extra! bc this is the 1st chappie! :)

"Hello?" Kuroo answered.

"Can you see us?" (b/f/n) asked.

"Yeah, can you see us?" Kuroo asked and answered. We both nodded.

"I think he's cute! If you don't hurry up, I'll take him~~" (b/f/n), the scare and provocation master told you.

"He's mine already... baka," you muttered. Kenma heard it, and both of you blushed.

Hello, it's Lili! I hope you liked my terrible first fic!

Some notes:

- (1) This whole time, I was talking about Epic Seven. It's a great game.

- (2) Def break/decrease defense- debuff that decreases the opponent's defense by 70%

-I'm not an expert at E7, I've only been playing since the SSB (Seaside Bellona) banner (July 2019) so I'm not that great. And it was the first gatcha game I really ever played besides Food Fantasy and Love Nikki, but those don't really count.

- 2174 words

- Suggestions/comments/constructive criticism/grammar suggestions all appreciated!

Edited 5/10/20. Posted on tumblr: 7/4/20 Edited on tumblr: 10/12/20 Note: There are pics on the Wattpad chapter, but I couldn’t put them here (I lost them when I changed computers :/). Check it out there if you’d like to see the pics! Credits: Original header image is from Igor Karimov on Unsplash.

#lili kags #kenma x reader #kenma x you #oneshot #haikyuu

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talix18 · 5 years ago

Text

November 21

Yesterday Katelyn called to see if I wanted to hang out. Katelyn is the almost 22-year-old who I call my adopted niece but she’s something more than that. I lived with K and her mom from the time K was 18 months old until she was four-and-a-half so I was her de facto other mom. I know it’s just the slightest approximation of what parenting must feel like but I treasure the memory of her being satisfied with coming to me if Mom wasn’t available. Three-year-old K running towards me when I showed up to pick her up from daycare. The memory of the Christmas when all K wanted from Santa was to see her father and her mother and I couldn’t make that happen – talk about powerlessness. Watching her sing at her high school variety show remembering how I’d been too terrified to sing in front of people…

She inherited some things from me – her opinions and eagerness to share them is probably the big one, but she also, somehow, has come to love Def Leppard (I suspect that’s her boyfriend’s influence). You already know how Def Leppard introduced me to my first boyfriend. I can tell you exactly where I was and who I was with when I heard about the car accident that ultimately took Rick Allen’s arm. I remember that someone who worked at a music store called me to tell me Steve Clarke had died. Def Leppard was my third concert (1st: Asia; 2nd: Stray Cats) – I still can’t believe Mom let me go with Allen and some of his friends at 15. Some people have made-up imaginary friends – mine were real people.

I went up to see K at her mom’s place after work (Kate’s mom and her husband of a year and a week are still on their delayed honeymoon in Tennessee) and we talked about all kinds of things. She said something about Def Leppard touring with Motley Crue, which led me to the Crue documentary I just watched on Netflix over the weekend. I was a fan – saw them open for Ozzy once; had a poster on my ceiling for a while – but the milestones in their lives were vague memories. Of course Tommy was married to Heather Locklear and Vince committed vehicular manslaughter, but that was most of what I knew.

The documentary is an unflinching portrait of the toll drugs took on the band – specifically Nikki Sixx – but that’s not the part that really got to me. I know how addiction works. I had to stop the movie to Google what happened to Vince Neil’s daughter after her cancer diagnosis, which paid off as the next scene opened on her dead four-year-old body laying in the hospital bed. So now I’m having feelings about poor Vince losing his daughter after killing his friend how many years after the fact?

On the way home, after playing a Def Leppard song, the DJ mentioned the tour with Crue and I had to call Katelyn. We are definitely going, I assured her, now that I have even more emotions tied up with these people. I am definitely not thinking about the fact that “Crue called their friends in Def Leppard” to arrange the tour because I assume that means the Leps were also hard partiers and I’d rather not consider all the sordid debauchery that follows along. (Poison is also on the bill, and we’re all down with Bret since Rock of Love. Don’t threaten me with a good time!)

K and I also watched Mean Girls, which I had never seen, and I’m always happy to patch up a hole in my cultural reference knowledge. “Her hair is so big because it’s full of secrets” is everything. Feel free to welcome me to fifteen years ago.

I have to believe the increased meds dosage is making a difference. Tuesday alone I scheduled a doctor’s appointment (colorectal), an ultrasound (thyroid), a dinner/movie date with a friend, a massage, an eye exam, and a dentist’s appointment AND I enrolled for supplemental vision insurance. It seems like a reasonable amount to accomplish in one day, but I’d been putting off some of these appointments for months. Why is it so hard to pick up the phone and call someone? I will never be able to explain it. Trust me – I wish I could help people understand! The best I can do is recognize that I’m functioning more effectively and keep track of what I’m doing that’s different.

Yesterday I committed to flying to Boston to see a friend get married on New Year’s Eve. “Black tie optional”? Hell yeah I want to go hang out in that hotel and see that venue that my amazing friend and her intended are having a black-tie optional shin-dig in! I can’t imagine my lifestyle ever affording me such luxurious splurges on the regular so I need to take advantage of the opportunities when they manifest. Besides, I already have a dress that I got for a black-tie New Year’s Even anniversary party a few years ago; wearing it a second time makes it an even better value! (We don’t discuss how much money I ultimately spend on a wrap and statement earrings.) (Ack! I need to make an appointment with Katelyn for my hair!)

I haven’t seen Karen (the friend getting married) in FIVE years, which seems impossible, but there it is. Karen is one of my original gang of Webpeeps – Webpepes 1.0! Most of us met on a news aggregate website, got to know each other in the forum (4um elites represent), and created a new bulletin board to hang out in. At our peak we had about 150 members but the core group was about 40, and I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at least 30 of us in meatspace.

The first time I met Karen (GreenBeans/GB) was at her then husband’s 30TH (?) birthday party. Rider (PsiDefect), Tim (GasMasher), and I drove my car up to Boston from Philly (Tim and I drove up from MD) to surprise this dude we’d never met, and that cemented my friendship with both Karen and Ted (Law). Their marriage broke up some time ago, which I learned the weekend she and I got together in Orlando with Catrina (CatWritr) and CJ (Hajen). Which was somehow five full years ago.

The first time I met ANY of these nerds was…I don’t even know how long ago at the original Farkoasterfest. I lived with Katelyn and Vanessa at the time and V straight up took pictures of Rider and his license plate when he pulled up to scoop me and head out to Sandusky, OH. I do know I was working at SSA and it was relatively early in my tenure, so early-2000s? It was also probably the first time I spent an entire weekend with people not in recovery since I’d gotten clean. Several hundred miles away with nearly perfect strangers – who thought that was a good idea?

It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Some of the people I met that weekend and after are straight up some of my closest friends. It was my first experience making friends as an adult, which is startlingly difficult to do. My first group of friends that didn’t start in our hometown or on campus or in recovery – people I connected with in a realm where all we had was the words on the screen and our wit.

Places I’ve since hung out with these people include Seattle twice, Cedar Point one or two more times, Northern VA, DC, PA, and Toledo. I’ve seen at least three couples wed and have almost ten kids between them. I dated the guy in Toledo for a few years. I flew out to Seattle for Andrea (BigOrangeCat/TheOtherAndrea)’s 40th birthday party and to visit her in the hospital before she died. We helped Amy (Hisey) mourn the loss of her nearly full-term daughter. We helped Joe (ThedNeedles) deal with his ex keeping his son away from him – some of his helped him with legal aid. We watched each other’s kids grow up and have kids of their own. Norm (Zorgon) just emailed to let me know he was in town (-ish –northern DC suburb) and wanted to connect but was laden with germs – we get together for a meal very few years when work brings him this way. Never let anyone tell you your online friends don’t count.

(Logging back in to the old bulletin board to count heads gifted me with a video of Mike (BitZero) (father of FarKoasterFest) smashing up some obsolete Fark hardware. Good times!)

I reached out to CJ and Cat to see if either one was planning on coming to the wedding to offer the other side of the king-sized bed I’ll be sleeping in in Boston and I’m glad I did. CJ’s got a handful of kids so money is always a concern and I’m paying for the room whether I’m alone or with someone else. We’ll be FaceTiming Cat at midnight and maybe during the ceremony too.

In fact, I’ve been suspiciously functional this week. Monday was meh, but since then I’ve had three good, productive days in a row. I have no specific plans tonight so I could go to a meeting, or I could go home and see if any of this momentum can be channeled into house projects. Coming up with a fictional framing device has given me the opportunity to figuratively walk myself through the necessary steps to get started. So whatever comes of this writing exercise, it’s been worth doing.

#nanowrimo #f**k fifty

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thehyperkraken · 6 years ago

Text

The Suffering of John Marston, 13

A/N: just a cute lil slice o life fic about modern husbands dutch & hosea and their 2 dumb sons and all their sons’ dumb friends :^) warnings include MILD DESCRIPTIONS OF KISSING and ME MERCILESSLY EMBARRASSING JOHN MARSTON and WALKING IN ON YOUR PARENTS MAKING OUT WHEN YOU’RE THIRTEEN and KIDS GIVING OVERSIMPLIFIED EXPLANATIONS OF BEING TRANS

-x-

Arthur and his older, cooler friends preferred to sit beside the pool and gossip instead of ever actually getting in the water. That suited John fine, since he had absolutely no interest in giving Arthur yet another opportunity to try to drown him, but he didn’t understand why they couldn’t all just go inside and play video games or watch a movie or something instead.

There was nothing more boring than listening to his brother’s high school drama. John didn’t give a shit about what boys Arthur and his friends liked, or what Micah said about who at lunch, or the latest episode of that TV show everyone was watching, or whatever else older kids talked about. John wanted to talk about Super Smash Bros. More specifically, he wanted to talk about Super Smash Bros while playing Super Smash Bros. Most specifically, he wanted to talk to Abigail Roberts about Super Smash Bros while playing Super Smash Bros with her, so maybe she would teach him some moves and he could finally stop losing at Super Smash Bros.

But Abigail wanted to hang out by the pool with everyone else. If she were having as miserable of a time as John was, he would have suggested they desert the “party” to play video games an hour ago. But Abigail got along with Sadie and Charles just fine. She even seemed to like Arthur, which was the ultimate betrayal in John’s eyes. So John kept his mouth shut for once and sat on the edge of the group, hugging his knees and sulking, because he didn’t want to be the one to pull Abigail away while she was having fun.

John met Abigail in his special needs class. She had dyslexia, he had attention deficient something something disease or whatever. John had invited Abigail to the party because he thought she was funny, and smart, and pretty, and he really, really liked her, and Arthur was bringing friends over, so John wanted to bring friends over too, but he didn’t really have any other friends.

Well, except Javier, of course. But Javier was Arthur’s friend first, and Arthur had already invited him, but Javier couldn’t come because he was out of town over the weekend for his abuela’s birthday. And anyway, John had been hoping Abigail would be equally as bored by the older kids as John was, and they could spend some time alone together.

But no. Abigail was happily talking to Sadie about a band they both liked. John tried very hard not to begrudge her and instead pay attention to her interests but oh my god he was so bored.

It was a lovely afternoon, at least. Warm enough to make the idea of swimming seem almost appealing, but not hot enough to make it a necessity for being outside. Charles had rolled up his pant legs to dip just his feet in the water. Arthur had even deigned to remove his cool coat he never left home without. Their dads, Dutch and Hosea, were both celebrating the arrival of spring by wearing cargo shorts, and in Dutch’s case, an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt.

Dutch had grilled hotdogs and hamburgers for everyone, while Hosea set out chips and drinks and condiments and paper plates on the patio table. After everyone was finished eating, Hosea settled into one of the patio chairs with a book. Meanwhile Dutch cleaned up the grill and put the leftover food away.

When he was done, Dutch stood in front of the sliding doors to the house with his hands on his hips and loudly announced, “Well, I think I’m gonna head on in now. Lots of work to catch up on.”

He was looking at Hosea, so none of the kids responded. Hosea hummed neutrally without taking his eyes off his book.

Dutch cleared his throat and tried again. “Yep, gettin’ too hot out for me. Think I’ll go in and have a sit-down.”

Hosea turned the page.

Dutch kicked the leg of the patio table, rattling it and making Hosea jump. He finally looked up from his book, and Dutch caught his eye.

“Huh?”

Grinning, Dutch murmured, “I said, it’s gettin’ kinda hot out, ain’t it? I’m thinkin’ about goin’ inside and coolin’ off. Gettin’ some emails sent.”

Hosea carefully closed his book and laid it flat on the table. “Yes. Now that you mention it, it is becoming a tad warm.”

“Bet that’s playin’ hell on your joints, huh, old man?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Well! Maybe you should get yourself inside, then.” Dutch clapped his hands, rubbed them together, and started walking backwards into the house. “You kids have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Hosea stood up and said, “Y’know, I think I am gonna head in as well.” He followed Dutch, the book tucked under his arm like a football. In the doorway, he paused and called out to the teens, “Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen. Arthur, you’re Lifeguard On Duty, so don’t let anybody drown, alright?”

Arthur nodded and waved his hand dismissively. No one else was paying attention to what the adults were doing.

Charles brought out a pack of cards and asked if anybody knew Old Maid. John said no. Everybody else said yes. Charles patiently tried to teach him the basics, but John didn’t understand it, so he said he hadn’t wanted to play anyway, embarrassed.

About fifteen minutes after their dads left, Arthur said with a sly smile, “Hey John, why don’t you go in and check on pops?”

John looked up, having zoned out thinking about video games again. “What?”

“Hosea said his joints were acting up. Why don’t you go in and check on him, see if he needs help with anything.”

“Why don’t you do it,” John said petulantly.

Arthur gestured to his cards. “I’m busy.”

“That’s—“

“Besides,” Arthur interrupted, and grinned at Abigail. “I bet Miss Abigail would like another coke, right?”

“Oh.” Abigail glanced at her coke can and shook it. It sloshed emptily. “Yeah, I guess so. If it’s not a bother.”

John was already on his feet. “No, it’s no bother! I’ll be right back!”

He restrained himself from flat-out running into the house. John looked for Hosea first, since he was worried he’d forget, and Abigail probably wouldn’t appreciate him letting her drink get warm while he carried it around.

Hosea wasn’t anywhere on the ground level. Figuring he was probably in his and Dutch’s bedroom resting, John went upstairs, once again moving as fast as possible without it being considered “running in the house.” He made a beeline for the closed door at the end of the hall and swung it open without knocking.

There, John found Hosea. And, unfortunately, Dutch.

They were on the bed. Hosea was lying on his back, with Dutch on top of him, his legs wrapped around Dutch’s waist. John couldn’t see much more than the back of Dutch’s head, but he could hear soft kissing noises coming from that direction. They were thankfully both still fully clothed, though one of Dutch’s hands was on Hosea’s thigh and rapidly disappearing up the leg of Hosea’s shorts. And there was absolutely no mistaking the slow, steady rocking motion of their hips.

John barely managed to stop himself from screaming in horror. He silently jumped back out of the room, and then not-so-silently slammed the door so hard that the resulting bang echoed throughout the house.

Ha stared at the door stupidly, frozen in shock. John’s heart was pounding and his face was so red he felt like he could scramble an egg on his forehead.

There was some shuffling from inside the bedroom, and quiet voices. John heard Hosea say “no, you,” and then a couple seconds later, Dutch opened the door. He was rumpled, his hair falling out of place, the top few of his shirt buttons were undone, and that was definitely a bruise on his shoulder. He only opened the door wide enough to lean his torso outside.

Dutch spotted John and blinked at him in surprise. “John?”

John avoided looking at him as if he was completely nude. “Uh, hi,” he said weakly to the ceiling.

Dutch sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Did you... need something...? Or...?”

“N-No. No, I just,” John gulped, “was comin’ to check on papa is all.”

Hosea called from inside the bedroom, “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you to knock?”

Dutch turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you to lock the damn door?”

“I was a little preoccupied at the time, dear.”

Even though it was almost always in good fun, hearing his parents yell at each other still set John’s nerves on edge.

“S-Sorry, I’ll just, um. Arthur told me to see if y’all needed help with anything, and, obviously not, so, I’ll just go then—“

Dutch narrowed his eyes and said, “Arthur.”

John gulped. “Um, anyway. I’m gonna... go. Uh.” He started walking away backwards. “Bye. Uh. Sorry. Bye.”

John turned and sprinted down the stairs, slapping his hand to his forehead. He was so distressed that he completely forgot about Abigail’s drink in his desperation to get away.

John walked back out into the yard and stopped in front of the sliding doors. Arthur glanced over, and as soon as he saw the slope of John’s shoulders, he jumped up and started running. John ran after him, screaming threats and obscenities.

“You son of a bitch! I’m gonna kill you! Get back here you big fucker piece of shit!!!”

Arthur didn’t actually have to run so much as jog, because his legs were much longer and stronger than John’s thanks to his most recent growth spurt. He jogged several laps around the pool, laughing, before he let John catch him. John jumped up, grabbed him by the collar, and screamed in his face. John was so angry and embarrassed that he wasn’t sure anymore if he was saying words or just making noise.

Arthur easily pried John’s hands off of him and chuckled, “Calm down, kid.”

“Calm down?! Calm down?! You set me up for the worst experience of my whole damn life, you asshole!”

“But did you die, though,” Arthur said.

“IN EVERY WAY BUT PHYSICALLY, YEAH!”

“Sorry... What happened?” Charles said.

John turned on him and yelled, “I saw dad and papa makin’ out and it was awful and it was all stupid Arthur’s fault!”

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re old enough now that it’s time you started learnin’ ‘bout the birds and the bees. So you’re welcome, really.”

John scowled and shrugged the hand off. “I learned too damn much already from you bringin’ over that Albert guy.”

Charles started “oooh”-ing. Sadie put her fist under her chin and said, “Albert, huh?” Abigail was glancing between them and Arthur with wide eyes.

Arthur’s smile fell and his face went stony. “Albert is my friend,” he said to John, voice dangerously sharp.

“Awful strange sort of friends who put their hands up each other’s shirts,” John said before he could stop himself.

Arthur shot him a look, and John started running, yelling his head off the whole way. Sadie and Charles were also yelling, rooting for John. But unlike before, when he moved at a leisurely jog, this time Arthur broke into a dead sprint and caught up with John almost immediately. He grabbed John around the waist, picked him up, and tossed him, kicking and screaming, into the pool.

It was only the shallow end, but still. John could have died.

Or at least, that’s what he told Charles and Sadie over and over again as they fished him out. He told Abigail, too, but she just replied, “Stop whining, you’re fine.” She wrapped one of their unused beach towels around him from behind and held him in a brief hug. John thought maybe that was worth risking his life for, so he shut up about it.

Shortly after that, Abigail had to leave because she had promised her parents she’d be home before dark. Sadie offered to drive her home, and Charles was also depending on Sadie for a ride, so that was the party over, then.

Within twenty minutes, John was curled up on their couch watching a movie with Arthur, and he’d almost completely forgotten about his previous embarrassment. He was still damp and wrapped in the beach towel, only because he was too lazy to change clothes and not because it smelled a little like Abigail.

“Your man-tea you drink is givin’ you an unfair height advantage, otherwise I could totally take you,” John said through a mouthful of popcorn. Arthur had made some for himself and set the bowl between them on the couch. Arthur ate pieces one at a time, whereas John ate as much as he could physically fit in his fist.

“My man what,” Arthur said.

“Your tea medicine stuff you take that’s gonna make you a man.”

“Oh.” Arthur hesitated. “You mean ‘T,’ as in the letter T. It’s short for testosterone, and it ain’t gonna ‘make’ me a man. It’s just a hormone that makes you grow a beard and stuff.”

“Oh. D’you drink it?”

“Nah. It’s a shot.” Arthur stuck out his finger and pantomimed giving John a shot in the leg with it. John, who was maybe a little (rightly!) nervous about needles but definitely not afraid of them, squirmed away.

“Don’t that hurt?”

“A little. Y’get used to it.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, watching the movie. It was some horror movie Arthur had mentioned wanting to see once. They were only a few minutes in and John hated it because like three people had died already. The movie had been his own choice, wanting to prove that he could watch grown-up movies with Arthur and not get scared, but now his confidence in his own willpower was waning more and more with every gruesome blood splash he saw.

“The T ain’t what’s makin’ me taller than you, though,” Arthur said. “You’re just short ‘cause you’re still a kid.”

“You’re a kid, too,” John snapped, highly offended. “A really big and boring kid, but still.”

Arthur grinned and shook his head. “I mean, you ain’t done growin’ yet. You’ll get big and boring too one day, I promise. It just takes time.”

John didn’t answer, crunching his popcorn loudly to pretend like he didn’t hear Arthur.

“Who knows?” Arthur continued. “Maybe you’ll grow up to be even taller than me, eventually.”

John perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah, maybe. Or maybe even taller than Dutch.”

John always thought it was really weird when Arthur called their dads by their first names. He knew that they had gotten Arthur when he was older than John was when they had adopted him. He figured maybe Arthur had more solid memories of his birth parents than John did, and having three dads in his head was too confusing. Maybe that was why it took Arthur almost a full year to call either of them dad instead of Mr. Matthews or Mr. Van der Linde. Maybe that was why he still slipped up sometimes, even now. But John thought it rude to point it out, so he didn’t bring it up.

“Dad’s really tall,” John said, doubtfully.

“Yeah. But pa said so was Mr. Marston. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

John didn’t respond. He silently appreciated Arthur’s refusal to use any fatherly words to describe the man he shared DNA with.

“Then again, I don’t think height is your problem, either,” Arthur said. “You’d just keep stretchin’ out like a stringbean. I’d still be able to toss you around.”

“Nuh-uh...”

“You gotta get some fat and muscle on them bones.” Arthur pinched gently at John’s skinny bicep. “You eatin’ the lunches pa packs for you, boy?”

John shoved Arthur’s hands away, and they had a slap fight for a bit before they lapsed back into silence. John didn’t want to think about the movie he was seeing, so he thought about Abigail instead.

At some point, Dutch and Hosea came downstairs, and John only noticed when Dutch leaned on his elbows against the back of the couch. He could hear Hosea cleaning up in the kitchen.

“Hello, Arthur,” Dutch said, eyebrow raised. “Have a good laugh earlier?”

Arthur’s face remained blank, and he didn’t look away from the TV. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mhm. Well maybe I’ll start checkin’ up on ya when you and that Mason boy disappear into your room to ‘listen to music.’”

Arthur, to his credit, kept his poker face. “Fine. Absolutely fine.”

Dutch snorted and moved away into the kitchen to help Hosea. “I for one can’t wait until spring break is over and you heathens gotta go back to school.”

-x-

The next day, Hosea cornered Arthur in the living room after breakfast and handed him a couple bills and said, “You’ll be taking John to the movies.”

Arthur looked at the money, startled, and protested, “But Charles and I were gonna get Sadie and—”

“I didn’t ask,” Hosea said, impatiently. “Take them too, if ya want. Or go to the mall or the arcade, or go ridin’ around causin’ trouble, hell, do some graffiti, whatever it is kids do these days, I don’t care. Just don’t come back until lunch time, for the love of god.”

Arthur glanced back into the kitchen, where Dutch was scrubbing a plate with unusual grumpiness. In fact, everything he’d done that morning had been with an irritable energy about him.

“Yeah, alright,” Arthur muttered, and took the money. He figured he owed them one.

John was more than happy to go to the movies, especially when Arthur told him it was his choice. He picked a funny animated adventure movie about cowboys sailing to a tropical island.

Afterwards, they walked around the mall with Sadie, Charles, and Charles’s little half-brother Lenny. Lenny was even younger than John but seemed to be way smarter, somehow. Lenny was kind of shy, but he was also nice and funny and played video games, so John liked him well enough.

They all went to the food court and ate greasy pizza, and Arthur video-called Javier on his phone. Arthur said it was so Javier could see how much fun everyone was having without him, but Charles said it was because they missed him.

When it was John’s turn to say hi to Javier, he snatched Arthur’s phone and ran with it, excitedly telling Javier about how Abigail hugged him, and how she texted Sadie to ask Arthur to tell John that she wouldn’t mind hanging out with him again, and wasn’t that cool? Javier laughed and agreed that it was very cool, but then Arthur wrestled his phone back and called John a shithead, so John stole Arthur’s last pizza slice in retaliation.

-x-

Arthur made sure that they didn’t get back home until it was well after lunch. And if he noticed that their dads had hair still damp from a shower, or that Dutch had a certain spring in his step and wouldn’t stop whistling, or that Hosea kept bumping Dutch with his shoulder every time they passed each other, then Arthur had the good sense not to mention it.

#rdr2 modern au #vandermatthews #trans arthur morgan #this was originally a lil exercise for how i imagined teen bros arthur n john would interact and then it grew legs and ran away #now i have incredibly in depth thoughts about every goddamn character so ugh expect a follow up ideas dump post. it'll be tagged #the suffering of john marston. 13 #im....not gonna tag everyone thats too much work #do albert and arthur have a ship name yet tho #morgason #good enough #its ugly but its mine #rdr2 #had to repost this bc of weird formatting issues thanks tumblr

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quitblow5-blog · 5 years ago

Text

‘For artists, work ethic and intelligence are just as important as talent.’

Scroll through the blue-ticked Instagram accounts of most major-league US music executives, and you’ll tend to find the same old schtick: images of their artists playing career-boosting stages; flattering snaps of their newly decked-out office; a smattering of vacation/weekend shots accidentally-on-purpose showcasing that sleek second home in the Hills.

Mike Caren’s Insta feed, however, offers a little something more – a little something indicative of the inquisitive mind of the man himself. A swift perusal of Caren’s page throws up graphs, charts and textual provocations covering themes like ‘10 trends that will reshape the music industry’, how fast TV watching is declining amongst Millennials, the average ages of social media use in 2019, and the ‘share of ear’ that radio claims amongst US consumers over 13.

This all fits because Caren, as well as being obsessive about the A&R process, is also obsessive about media trends, and how consumption of everything from HBO to Fortnite and Instagram are munching into the daily music habits of today’s teenagers.

Such compulsive attention to detail is serving Caren’s businesses well. The Beverly Hills-raised exec founded Artist Publishing Group back in 2006, followed by the launch of Artist Partner Group in 2013. Warner Music Group and Atlantic Records, with whom Caren has worked for more than 20 years, injected a multi- million dollar investment into APG three years ago.

Since then, APG, which now employs more than 40 staff, has developed and broken stars including Bazzi, Charlie Puth, Kehlani, Kevin Gates and NBA Youngboy, as well as an electric array of songwriters such as Hitmaka, Yung Berg, Amy Allen and Madison Love.

Most recently, Los Angeles-based APG unleashed Ava Max, who hit No.1 in many territories this year including the UK, Sweden, and Germany with international smash “Sweet But Psycho”.

Caren began his career aged 17 with Atlantic Records, and later served as Co-President – alongside John Janick – of the relaunched Elektra Records (Bruno Mars, Ed Sheeran, Cee Lo Green) between 2009 and 2012.

MBUSA recently sat down with Caren within APG’s Fairfax studio complex to ask him all about his A&R philosophy, and where he sees the future of multimedia going in the next few years…

Tell us a truism about the music industry.

So much of what moves the needle in this business is just about listening – really listening. When a label or publishing exec has a 60 minute meeting with a producer or songwriter, once you’ve caught up with each other, you’re already 30 minutes into it, and only then do you start listening to music.

That leaves you 25 minutes to listen, and consider eight to 10 ideas. Then the meeting is over – and you haven’t even cracked the surface. If you’d allowed for 90 minutes of music, you would probably have found something really special.

So for that last 20 minutes, I might ask you to [hand over] everything you haven’t played me – whether you think I might or might not like it. Then I’m actually going to listen to it all and hear the stuff that other people don’t get to.

You employ more than 40 people at APG, and you’re expanding. Can you actively keep the roster here capped at certain size?

Yes. We started in the publishing world, where I felt that one A&R executive couldn’t really have a high impact on every one of their writers unless they were limited to approximately 10 writers.

I noticed that at most of the major publishing companies, when I talked to executives, their personal roster would be over 50 writers. I found it hard to believe that they would be able to deliver something significant for every writer with that roster size. Records is about a smaller amount of artists, but it’s also about building teams.

People with different perspectives, different skill sets all working together, learning from each other and bringing different things to the table. I work with people that have so much passion and intelligence and determination. This company is a sum of those parts. There’s 40 people here that have the impact of 150.

What would you say is the defining A&R philosophy of APG?

We believe that work ethic and intelligence are just as important as talent. A smart and hardworking creative will keep improving whereas someone without that work ethic or vision might creatively just tread water, or even decline in their quality.

“We work with [talent] for days, weeks or even months before we sign a deal.”

The biggest thing is getting to know writers and artists personally. We work with them for days, weeks or even months before we sign a deal. We will often lose a deal because somebody – after working with APG – is rushed elsewhere in the industry by a bidding war or whatever. And if that happens, it’s okay. It wasn’t meant to be.

Why is getting to know artists properly so important to you?

Ideally, you want to enter a relationship that’s a decade or decades- long. You can marry the first person you kiss, but I think it’s better to go on more dates and ask a lot of questions to see if your vision of the future is aligned. When you have tough conversations upfront, it leads to better conversations for years to come.

Give us an example of a tough conversation with an artist.

Those conversations revolve around expectations, timeline, patience, vision. I love artists that have huge goals and who know several moves they want to make to get there – who aren’t expecting to make it all in one single play. I love songwriters turning into artists too, because they’ve had this passenger seat in other artists’ careers to which they’ve contributed. The writer-turned-artist has seen other artists making tough decisions, and what the results were, which helps them avoid their own mistakes and pitfalls.

“If you just try to protect artists from making those mistakes, it doesn’t help, because when they become very successful, they will ultimately take all the big decisions; your job is to prepare them to make great ones.”

APG is the best at amplifying, investing in and turbo-charging artists who have a lot of ideas. And the best ideas always come from artists. It’s always better to let an artist make a mistake, because when a smart artist makes a mistake, they learn from it. If you just try to protect artists from making those mistakes, it doesn’t help, because when they become very successful, they will ultimately take all the big decisions; your job is to prepare them to make great ones. You can’t shelter talent early on, then expect people to act like an experienced artists when they’re successful.

How do you feel about the number of songwriters behind the majority of hits today?

The other day somebody sent me a video with Bob Marley, One Love and said, ‘What an incredible song and songwriter.’ I said, ‘Yeah, Curtis Mayfield was a fricking genius.’ They said, ‘Are you kidding? That song was written by Bob Marley!’ It’s a co-write. Curtis Mayfield and Bob Marley. And if Bob Marley can co-write, anyone can co-write.

One defining modern A&R trend is that of collaboration. Two people from largely different genres cross-pollinating fan bases. What do you make of that trend, and does it ever concern you?

I saw an exhibit of Picasso and Matisse years ago. They were friends and they did interpretive pieces of each other’s work. Their artistry was so clear when they did so. Anything that allows someone to demonstrate creativity and originality is an amazing vehicle – but the song [has to be] organic and creative.

Why did you started APG in the first place?

First, I had been working as an A&R person at Atlantic for 10 years. Having been in one company for so long, I wanted a different experience and I wanted an entrepreneurial experience.

I built a lot of trust at Atlantic, so they allowed me to create a partnership venture with them. But I operated it independently, and I love to experiment. Every session is an experiment; every marketing idea is an experiment; every day here is about experimentation.

“I had this philosophy, this is 15 years ago, that songwriters and producers are artists in their own right.”

And second, I had this philosophy, this is 15 years ago, that songwriters and producers are artists in their own right – and that a publisher could publish their songs and get them paid, but could also treat them as an artist and A&R them in that way, providing the introductions, the insights, and the resources that labels provide to artists.

It was a learning process because I didn’t know about publishing, and I didn’t have the budget to chase hits, so we had to be bold.

Why is so much A&R focused entirely on the new – the thrill of ‘breaking’ something?

Out of anything in this business, I get the most satisfaction from seeing other people with their first big successes: their first hit song; their first platinum record; their first sold out tour; their first song on the radio.

Every time a new artist, a new writer has an experience like that, it’s contagious. To me, that’s more powerful than congratulating someone on their fifth of sixth platinum album. It’s an honor to make music – it’s exciting and it’s an adventure.

I’m really proud of the artists and writers that have been successful, but I’m just as proud of the executives. That goes for the team here, but also people that have previously worked or interned here and moved on. I root for their success.

“Every time a new artist, a new writer has an experience like that, it’s contagious.”

Right now, I’m in awe of A&R moves from Miles Beard (pictured), Jeff Vaughn, Tizita Makuria, Eli Picarretta, Edgar Machuca, Matt MacFarlane, Lisa Mottahedeh, David Phung, and Dan Snyder, all of whom landed their first A&R roles here – several starting as interns or assistants – and all of whom have signed Gold or Platinum artists or writers, or had hits this year.

But I’m also thrilled to see fast career growth and broadening responsibility from vets that joined us such as Elyse Rogers, Angie Pagano, Mike Mathewson, Olly Sheppard, Jessica Kelm, and the list can go on. Fifteen years in, I look around and see our team members thriving, and people who’ve cut their teeth with us at pretty much every label, from A&R Executive to Chairman.

APG takes a white label approach with its artists – your brand is kept on the sidelines. Why?

We’re too broad to create a single, forward-facing brand. The great labels that I love had, and continue to have today, sonic consistency. They had a cultural voice and a specific niche, with a sound or a through line.

I lean in to creative people; we’re not going to not sign an artist just because they don’t fit in with other artists on our roster, or not work with an executive because they’re a certain type. There are no rules and no limitations to who APG works with. We just want to work with people for whom we can deliver more than anyone else out there.

Also, I love our entrepreneurial artists and I don’t want to take away from their opportunity to build their brand – both their artist brand and their company brand. I love it when an artist’s dreams include everything from festivals to clothing to charitable organizations. If I can help build an artist’s brand, it’s one more resource that we’re providing that I don’t think many others offer.

What makes a good artist manager?

One, they have to have enough experience to know that everything changes every year. Two, they have to listen to their artist but also speak the truth to them. And, of course, work ethic and intelligence are so important – especially the work ethic, because managers have to provide an example for their artist. Great managers are also great communicators; people who bring people together.

“there’s this ‘Napster Gap’, as I call it, 2002 to 2014, where only a few people invested into the business, and only a few people got hired – so there was not as much opportunity for mentorship for a lot of people versus what had come before.”

It’s a weird time for the music business because there’s so much opportunity now. But there’s also this ‘Napster Gap’, as I call it, 2002 to 2014, where only a few people invested into the business, and only a few people got hired – so there was not as much opportunity for mentorship for a lot of people versus what had come before. There are some incredible managers out there who are just so smart, and had to learn the game on their own.

The head of Netflix, Reed Hastings, said earlier this year that Fortnite was a bigger competitor to his company than traditional rivals like HBO. What do you make of the idea that other media is stealing attention from artists and music?

It’s something I think about a lot. I heard about something recently that said that Americans have over 11 hours a day of media consumption because of how much multitasking they do – like how they will play video games while listening to music. Their consumption is literally doubling.

I see incredible opportunity there, because if you work in the music business and you’ve never played Fortnite, you’re going to fall a few steps behind.

“If you work in the music business and you’ve never played Fortnite, you’re going to fall a few steps behind.”

How Fortnite makes its money is worth thinking about: the short windows of items being for sale; the opening for other platforms [as the game can be played across different devices]; the live events; how [Epic Games] updates and changes the game’s dynamic to keep things so exciting. There are so many amazing things to learn from it.

As far as competing in media, there’s going to be huge L.A. production competition. You have Netflix, Apple, Amazon, Hulu, Spotify and a bunch of other companies with endless amounts of money going to go into content production. It’s going to mean a whole new competition for creative talent, and it will be interesting. It could be incredible for talent – and it will definitely fortify L.A. as the creative capital of the world.

How do you counter that with the value of labels?

There’s no one-size-fits-all, right? Some people love business. Some people love managing people and administration. Some people love to be creative. Some people can do all of those things together. And there are some people who are just true artists who want to color outside the lines and break rules. They don’t want any of the administrative burden. They don’t want to reconcile tours, or deal with Social Security or 401ks, you know?

Some of that’s to do with different points in your life. You may be young; you may want to have fun and be creative and break the rules and not deal with turnover and all of these things. And later in your life, you may want to be more stationary and operate a company and a business. People just need to know what things entail.

“Staying independent is probably the right thing for a lot of artists and it’s probably the wrong thing for a lot of artists.”

There are an increasing number of artist managers who now say that running an independent operation for an artist isn’t ‘management’ – it’s a business partnership, so it shouldn’t be 15 or 20% commission, it should be 50% across everything, including touring. And that all depends on how much of an artist’s business is just music – whether they need a manager who’s just doing music, or managing several businesses.

Staying independent is probably the right thing for a lot of artists and it’s probably the wrong thing for a lot of artists. It all has to do with individual ambition, and how you actually want your 16 to 20 waking hours to be spent.

In an age awash with A&R data, how do you feel about the reduction in signings based purely on based on gut instinct?

I love data… partly because so much of the major label business is focused on it, which leaves all this open territory for us. But, also, I will say data can definitely show more than just momentum, it can reveal a pool of artists who didn’t wait for anyone to move their career forward, who got out of bed every day and worked hard to move the needle.

Somebody can tell me they’re going to work hard all day long, but an artist that had no resources that went out and built some fans? That’s someone you know wants it. I’ll never discount that, as work ethic is so essential.

Where do you get your work ethic from?

My mom’s creative. My dad’s organized. I love this job – this isn’t work, look how soft my hands are! The worst part of my job is sitting waiting for someone to show up who’s late. That’s it! And nowadays, I can always fill those hours by listening to music anyway.

I’m very sure you could have capably run an established major label group. Contemporaries like John Janick are doing it…

He’s awesome.

Why did you choose to build something from scratch, rather than run a big frontline label during this period of your career?

I don’t think anyone ever offered me a job that had the freedom that I now enjoy as an entrepreneur. As an industry, we need to empower people and trust them. There’s always a lot of oversight and structure in majors – and it’s probably needed. But now, we’re facing an ever-evolving future, we have to experiment and to do R&D.

“Change is inevitable. Change is good. But you have to try things in order to figure out what works with change.”

Change is inevitable. Change is good. But you have to try things in order to figure out what works with change. It’s inevitable that artists are going to change the way they make music and market music – and anyone who clings on to the past will get left behind. I love nostalgia like anyone else; we can still tell great stories of the good old days, but we have to be open to try new things all the time.

Let’s talk about the future, then. What are you excited about?

We are a very de-centralized company; I’m trying my absolute best to build the most entrepreneurial organization possible. I want everyone here to think like entrepreneurs, and to make decisions. I choose to run this company differently from, say, the way the legendary Clive Davis ran Arista. He’s incredible, but I hear he personally approved every piece of art and every mix.

Again, just like the artists here, everyone should be making decisions, seeing the results and learning from them. I want every executive I work with to feel that their career grew twice as fast in this organization than it did anywhere else.

What’s going to change at APG over the next five years?

We’re trying to reorganize the entire approach to being a global company. Many major labels don’t seem like singular global companies; they’re a bunch of companies, around the world, that license to each other. Spotify is a global company; they have editors in different offices, but they are a global company.

That’s something we’re a couple of steps ahead on and I don’t think it will take five years. I think it will happen way before then.

The above interview originally appeared in Music Business USA – MBW’s new annual magazine featuring some of the smartest people, with the best stories, in the Stateside music industry.

Subscribe to MBW’s premium bundle to ensure you never miss one our physical magazines in future. Click through here to find out how.Music Business Worldwide

Source: https://www.musicbusinessworldwide.com/for-artists-work-ethic-and-intelligence-are-just-as-important-as-talent/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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official-alan-dabiri · 6 years ago

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Official-Alan-Dabiri and the 5 Stages of Grief

Okay, I’ve been doing some grieving for the esports side of Heroes of the Storm, and I’d like to kind of put my thoughts out here for my three human and three-hundred pornbot followers. I’m just going to step outside of what has been mockingly referred to as my “blizzard fursuit” and be real for a minute here. Hi, I’m Rob. I am a Heroes of the Storm player since alpha, and a Heroes of the Storm esports fan since before the custom game mode had been added, when maps were random and they had to be cast afterwards off of replays. The recent announcement of the cancellation of HGC and Heroes of the Dorm hit me - and the rest of the community - very hard. So I’m just going to touch on the stages of grief as they pertain to this event, and my feelings on the whole matter.

For those of you here for silly patch note commentary, fanart, and moba memes, I’ll put this behind a read more out of respect for your dashes.

Denial

I think Denial is the shortest stage we’re facing here. Denial came when there was no announcement of 2019 HGC for two months, and some of us shrugged it off. At Blizzcon, outward-facing Blizzard employees assured the fans, the casters, the players, and other esports-attached people that HGC would be back in 2019, and be as big or bigger. I’m not going to say that they lied, but their statements fed into the idea that this would be fine, and some people latched onto that in the wake of the expanding silence before it was finally broken.

To be in denial is a defense mechanism. It is denying that this is happening in order to numb our emotions and make it through the first wave of pain. Here, denial is the shortest stage because this is so believable. In the wake of so many questionable moves Activision-Blizzard has made lately, the severity and suddenness is a shock, not the event itself. This is really happening. Professional-level Heroes of the Storm is dead. And of course it is. After all, these are the numbskulls who made a mobile game the centerpiece of Blizzcon 2018, right?

Anger

I just want to preface this by noting that I, personally, never move past anger. I may struggle through it, but that anger never goes away. After the loss of my maternal grandfather to COPD over twenty years ago, the smell of cigarettes still enrages me. So please understand that when I say that I will never forgive Blizzard for this, I am not being melodramatic. I will be angry about this for a very long time.

Anger, however, needs to be appropriately directed and channeled. I’m upset at losing my weekend HGC fix. I’m upset that my amateur team no longer has a pro scene to watch together and work to emulate. And I’m very upset that Heroes of the Dorm is gone, since it was the catalyst that drew many of my friends into the game in the first place. This loss is the end of an era of entertainment. But that’s not the real crime here.

Hundreds of people - some of whom I admire and idolize - across the world are now unemployed. Very abruptly. Right before Christmas. Forty players, per region, are now out in the cold, along with any coaches and managers the team might employ. Add to that the casters, production staff, and analysts? Those people just got hosed. Some of those players dropped out of college to be here. Some of those players dropped out of college literally this fall in preparation for the 2019 season, after being picked up after the region’s playoffs, or fighting their way up in the Open Division and through the Crucible. There are people who have leases they’ve signed based on income that just got ripped away from them. Blizzard just brutally smacked down every one of them, tore away their jobs, and smashed their dreams.

And they did it in a blog post. That was how most of the players and casters learned about this. This wasn’t an event that was common knowledge, and the announcement just broke the NDA for them all. They have been living their lives up until literally the blog post, making plans dependent on HGC 2019. They found out they got fired by reading the news. And Blizzard selfishly kept this under their hats for this long to make sure that no players, sponsors, or other organizations got spooked before they were already locked in to Blizzard’s other esports. This was the worst way to do it. It’s unforgivable.

Bargaining

The bargaining stage is about seeking control over a terrible situation. It’s looking for how things should be when how they are is unacceptable. And for this announcement, there are a thousand different ways that would be preferable to this.

For one thing, I would love if this just weren’t happening. If only the HGC were just on a limited budget. If only the HGC was following a different, cheaper format. If only either HGC or Heroes of the Dorm were gone, and not both. For another, I would love if the call had been made six months ago. Cancel the crucible, make sure everyone has months of notice before the doors close to seek other work, or go back to school, or whatever. Literally any notice whatsoever would be preferable to this. Even if it’s just all in NDAs and the public doesn’t know, half of my anger is mitigated just because I know those folks aren’t entirely hosed.

Of course, the greatest bargain at all is to go all the way back. What if they’d designed the HGC better? The HGC was set up to ensure its own demise. The pros being paid salaries by Blizzard was great for their financial security, but those salaries elevated them above everyone else. The rest of the scene withered. Was Tempo Storm ever going to play against an open division team? No. Never. Maybe a scrim if they had connections, but nothing serious. In the days before HGC, those players had a really high chance of getting matched into the best pro team in round 1 just because of the seeding. Amateur tournaments are few and far between right now, and most of them go without casters, or have inexperienced casters who don’t have the platform to bring these games to a sizable audience. The part of the scene that still exists is now tiny to the point of invisibility. If HGC had been designed on a points system like it was for the first blizzcon, though? Those structures would still exist, instead of having been steamrolled over to build the now-derelict HGC parking lot. Scaling back Blizzard’s involvement with that system would have been a minimal change.

Depression

A lot of the community seems to be in this stage. A lot of people think this was a deathblow to the game itself, and, to be honest, it might be. The announcement was accompanied by the news that the development team is shrinking, and that content will be coming out slower, but with no indication of how slow. There is no shortage of doom and gloom, with people predicting no new hero for months - or even years - and balance patches being made by devs with no resources to test or monitor the results.

Ultimately, this is a downer. I’m not going to tell you it’s not bad. The lack of a pro scene to aspire to immediately kills the interest of a nontrivial number of players, who thought they could one day break into that world, whether as a player or as a caster. And the lack of those players kills the motivation of content creators, who are making build guides, tier lists, and learning-related content for those players. Make no mistake, this scene will shrink because of this. Your favorite pro players, streamers, youtubers, and other content creators might just move on, looking for other games to excel in, and take some amount of their audience with them.

Even if you weren’t part of this community, (why are you reading this, then?) Heroes of the Storm ranked 12th on the most influential esports of 2018. The loss of this is going to spook literally every sponsor across all esports, planting the seed of doubt that this is a worthwhile use of funds when it could all vanish overnight at the whim of the game’s publisher.

And even if you don’t care about esports, the professional level of the game had an effect that rippled down through all levels of play. Do you remember suddenly seeing Xul in your games a whole lot earlier this year? Do you remember Alarak suddenly being a contested pick in the last two months? Surely you noticed that the “solo lane” role suddenly became a thing last year when Blaze and Yrel were added, couldn’t main tank, but still had high win rates. All of that was the pro scene trickling down.

What happens now? What’s going to take the place of that influence? I don’t know. All I know is that when the playerbase looks up to see the highest level of play now, there’s just a void where HGC was.

Acceptance

Regardless of your feelings on the matter, though, Heroes of the Storm existed before HGC, and will continue to exist afterwards. It might end up being a much sparser community, with the pros moving on and the content creators in exodus, but we’ll still be here. I mean, I will, at least. They aren’t pulling the plug on the game, no matter what some angry nerd says about false hope. We’ve got years of gameplay and years of snarky patch notes ahead of us. Not to mention that all Blizzard content is HotS content. I’ve got Overwatch heroes to steal from Jeff, and Starcraft units to turn into poc, and lore-defying skins to slap on everyone in between. Heroes of the Storm is here to stay, and anyone who says otherwise is planning for a future calamity that’s still decades away.

That said, there are still high-level Heroes of the Storm tournaments happening. As I believe I mentioned previously, I have a team in Heroes Lounge, and that league has confirmed that they’re not stopping anytime soon. Similarly, the Nexus Gaming Series is gearing up, with sign-ups in January. In fact, there’s a number of options for community tournaments, both to participate in and to watch, with more undoubtedly coming, once the pros and casters finish their grieving and come together, looking to make it clear that they care about the game more than Blizzard does, and they’re willing to show it.

We all care more than blizzard does, or we wouldn’t be this upset. So let’s keep our eyes to the skies and give our support to whatever comes out of this. Because if the death of the pro scene would kill this game, it’s up to us to support a semi-pro scene ourselves to keep HotS alive.

#Heroes of the Storm #HGC #Esports #Heroes of the Dorm

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stereksecretsanta · 6 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @simplyn2deep!

Happy holidays to simplyn2deep! I tried to write something that hopefully checks your boxes - fluffy kidfic human AU incoming - and I really hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks for reading!

Read on AO3

*****

Curly Fries & Solo Cups

There was a time in Derek Hale's life where he didn't have any friends.

He had Laura, who gave up her afternoons to run with him in the woods behind their house, climbing big trees together and tripping over cool and soon-to-be collected sticks. He had Cora, who was still too young to go to school and was always excited when his day was done, eager to smash toys and throw rocks at wasps nests with her brother. He had Talia, because he still wasn't too old to be too cool to hang with his mom, and he had his cousins, his aunts, his uncles.

But he didn't have any friends. His family was big and sprawling and he loved them, but it sucked, being the only kid in first grade who had to spend recess alone. It was his own fault, to some degree; he read ahead of his grade and didn't like lacrosse, so while all the other kids ran around with sticks and nets and screamed really loud on the field, Derek would read books that nobody could relate to and played basketball against himself in the gym. Talia would always tell him to take the first step. To introduce himself, to show an interest. To do more than just hide away and cast fleeting glances at Scott and Paige and Jackson and the rest, wishing he was a part of what they had.

But he never did.

Second grade passed, then third, and Derek started to sneak food into the library so he wouldn't have to find a table in the cafeteria. There was a new kid this year, Stiles, who was gangly and loud and annoyed the shit out of him - a word he was told by his mom not to use when he stated this fact over dinner, but was encouraged even harder to keep saying it by Peter - and Derek immediately took to being jealous of him. The new kid slipped into Scott's social circle like he'd been there all along. Sometimes, Derek would watch the two of them screw around during class, feeling his stomach tighten as they laughed and never listened and got yelled at by their teacher.

He liked him. Derek had gotten used to not having any friends, over these past couple of years. He'd been fine with it. That feeling changed, suddenly.

Fourth grade came, and with it, Derek grew a little more distant from his family. Cora had started growing into herself, and it turns out that she's a bit of a handful, which is great, because she takes after their mom, but horrible, because she's going through a phase where she likes to bite. Laura had started dating, which was frankly disgusting, and the less he heard about that, the better - and Peter, who he'd started spending most of his afternoons with, had begun to side with Talia on this whole not being a nerdy, terrible loner anymore thing that she's constantly on his case about. Always telling him to make friends his own age. Always being annoying about it. God.

Stiles kept being funny. Stiles kept making friends. More and more of them. Derek wanted to be his friend, too.

Weeks of deliberation passed, but eventually, Derek watched Stiles try to laugh until milk came out of his nose to see if it worked in real life the way it did in cartoons, and after he nearly choked to death and Scott cried from how hard he was laughing, Derek felt a sweeping sense of courage in his stomach. It was time to do something about all of this.

He asked Coach if they could maybe set up a basketball team for the students his age - just something small, just for people who were interested in playing together, they didn't have to compete with any other schools or anything, don't worry - and, despite the unwieldy and unnecessary insult directed at Greenberg that seemed to come out of nowhere, Coach agreed. More than that, Coach made him captain.

It was less of a real team and more just something to do after school on days when the lacrosse field was being used by the older kids, but that was enough. Those few nights Derek spent waiting for Coach to announce sign ups to his class felt like hell. He was missing out on sleep, too busy staring at the ceiling above his bed until the early hours of the morning, worrying about everything and putting too much stock into this. He'd have imaginary conversations with himself. He would talk to Scott and Stiles and Kira about how to play ball, bragging about the dope shots he never really took. He'd act cocky and kind of obnoxious, but in his head, that was charming. He'd use basketball as a crutch to finally be looked at as more than just that quiet, unfriendly kid who barely spoke two words to people. He'd make friends.

And he did. But not with Scott, and not with Stiles.

Fourth grade passed, and then fifth, and then sixth. Junior high turned out to be pretty great for Derek, who made friends with his teammates and grew into his own. Basketball turned out to be so well received that it became a bit of a rival to the lacrosse team, snowballing into something real with actual games and actual competition. The kids who liked sport in Beacon Hills were becoming actual athletes, who took their sport of choice seriously and built their fledgling identities around it.

Scott and Stiles didn't sign up, but Derek still made friends with the kids who did. That should have been enough. It wasn't, but it should have been.

By seventh grade, Derek's made a name for himself. He's smart and he's funny and he's sociable, and even though he still never really talks to people he doesn't know, he's been to birthday parties and he's actually flirted with a couple of girls, which was exhilarating, if scary. He's happy. Took a while, but he's happy. He eats in the cafeteria, these days. He's starting to think that he's kind of weird for doing it, but he still just - likes watching Stiles, and Stiles is always at his best in the cafeteria.

On Friday, Scott and Stiles are racing to see who can eat the most curly fries the fastest. They're in their lacrosse uniforms even though it's starting to rain, and they'll probably be forced to share the gym with the basketball team if they want to get any practice in this afternoon. Scott's an idiot who filled up on pizza before he challenged Stiles to the race, but that just makes him all the more determined to win. Derek watches the race, still as hooked on the way Stiles laughs now as he was when he was little. Back when he was just shy and lonely and wanted a friend, instead of - whatever this is, now that he's older. Now that he shouldn't feel jealous anymore, seeing as he has a life of his own.

The race is neck and neck, but ultimately, Stiles wins. He crams his face full of deep fried garbage and chokes it all down with the propensity of a starving pelican. Scott contests the win, arguing that he ate more, but Derek knows that's a lie. His feet start moving before he can stop them.

"Stiles won."

Scott and Stiles look up, alarmed, a fry slipping from Stiles' still open mouth and onto his unreasonably messy tray. They both look at him like they know full well who he is - the quiet guy, the basketball guy - and they cast quick glances at each other, communicating silently the way best friends do.

Derek feels heat prickle his skin, but he doesn't blush. He doesn't think he does, at least. He just stares at the two of them until they look at him again, jaw set and teeth rigid. He must look angry, or something, because Stiles' eyes keep drifting back to Scott like he's in trouble, or something, and Scott looks seconds away from having an asthma attack. Shit.

"Stiles won," Derek repeats with determination, as if aggressively siding with the kid he's been staring at in silence for half a decade without so much as saying hi to him is a normal thing to do. If he was trying to kickstart the conversation, it doesn't work. Other tables are talking and going about their day and nobody's noticed what's going on, but the cafeteria feels awfully quiet, suddenly.

Stiles looks at Derek. Derek looks at Stiles. They haven't ever made eye contact, before. Derek feels his lungs go tight, so he looks back to Scott.

"Uh, thanks, dude," Scott offers to the silence. Stiles cracks a grin, watery and awkward. Derek keeps staring until he feels like he's a brick wall stopping the two of them from having fun with their... fries, and he ultimately nods, turning on his heel and bailing.

He doesn't talk to Stiles for the rest of the year.

Eighth grade is when things start getting messy. Jackson and Lydia start dating and they both want everybody to know about it. Lydia's parties are killer, but Derek never goes to them, which pisses her off a little, because he's turning into the kind of athlete that everybody thinks is gonna get a scholarship, make state and earn millions. Scott and Stiles never go, either. Derek only knows that by chance, having given up on staring at the two of them from across the room all the time. Stiles started staring back, after all. It's hard not to be embarrassed, once you've been caught.

Derek's in the equipment closet, putting everything away after gym class, when he hears Stiles and Scott through the door.

"Dude, why don't you just ask him?"

That's Scott. Derek holds his breath, his grip tightening on the dodgeball in his hands. He'd accidentally hit Scott pretty hard with this, about twenty minutes ago. He still feels guilty. Coach had laughed pretty hard, at least.

"Oh, yeah. Wow. Genius plan." That's Stiles. Derek's stomach does a flip like he's driving down a steep road. "Hey, big arms. Remember me? I know we've never really talked, except for that one time where I was desperately cramming curly fries down my throat like I was the squirrel from Ice Age and it was the only way to keep them safe for the winter, but. Just curious - are you going to Lydia's party this weekend?"

There are footsteps, and Derek panics, looking at the door and waiting for it to open. It doesn't; there's just a soft, gentle thud as Stiles leans his back against it, sighing under his breath.

"Well... maybe don't start with that, but." There's another small thud when Scott rests against the door, too, right next to Stiles. Derek can see their shadows under the door. "I mean, if that's how you wanna go about this, he lives right by the woods? He probably likes squirrels."

"Super helpful."

Scott laughs, but it's not malicious. It's soft and endeared. Derek can't see it, but Scott nudges Stiles' shoulder with his own, rattling the door a little.

"C'mon, man," Scott says. "Just ask him if he wants to go with you."

Stiles makes a noise that's entirely non-verbal, just this long, frustrated grunt. He's about to say something else when Finstock tells them to stop lazing around and they push themselves off the closet door, heading out. Derek stands still, gripping the dodgeball as tight as he can, waiting until the squeak of their sneakers over wood go quiet before he moves again.

His heart is beating so hard he's surprised they couldn't hear it.

By Friday, Stiles and Scott haven't had any more conversations about Derek within his earshot, but Derek's started watching the two of them again. From the way he falls asleep at his desk with his head hidden behind his history book, Stiles doesn't look like he's too worried about anything, which is kind of annoying to Derek, who has spent the entire week stressing the hell out about why Stiles wants to invite him to Lydia's party. Assuming he's "big arms", that is. There's every possibility that Stiles has made an embarrassment of himself eating horrible, greasy food in front of more than one person he never really talks to. Derek would not be surprised.

But he thinks it's a safe bet to assume that Stiles wants to go to the party with him. Or - wants him to be at the party, in any case. So why hasn't he just... asked?

Stiles gets yelled at in history class and wakes up with a sheet of paper stuck to his face. Math goes horribly, with Derek breaking the lead in his mechanical pencil over and over again from pressing it too hard against his notebook. Stiles sleeps in art class, again. Gym rolls around and Derek camps out by the equipment shed, but Scott and Stiles just go straight to their lockers.

Derek's in a bad mood when he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for the bus. Lydia catches him in the hall at the last second.

"Derek Hale," she starts, thoughtful and singsong. She's standing in front of him so she can't leave, Jackson's arm slung around her shoulders like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Jackson's turned into a bit of a jerk this year, but Derek doesn't care enough about him to be offended.

She tells him he simply has to come to her party this weekend, saying something about how being shy and mysterious worked for him when they were younger, but they're seconds away from entering highschool, so it's time to start taking the bull by the horns and getting out there. She asks him if he needs her to set him up with one of her friends, and the sharp furrow of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes is enough for her to take that as a no, and she tells him that all of his friends will be there.

He takes this to mean the basketball team and shrugs, pushing past her and Jackson to head out, until she adds, lilting and happy -

"Stiles and Scott were hoping to see you there."

- and he decides that a party might not be so bad.

Laura helps him pick out his clothes. He didn't want to ask her, at first, but he panicked, and she could tell, and even though he's sick of hearing about the guy she's dating, he still relies on her more than anyone. Peter helps, too, once Derek's dressed. He makes Derek take off the tie and leave the jacket at home, because he says it's a party for children, not a business luncheon between CEOs. Derek's about to say something, but then Peter roughs his hand through Derek's hair to give it some life, and Derek's slapping him away and heading out the door.

The party is... a party. Derek's been to a few, but again, never any like Lydia's. For a team filled with guys that actually have a shot at making it if they keep training their skills into adulthood, the basketball team is still kind of nerdy. Most birthdays go by with a gaggle of thirteen and fourteen year old boys playing lasertag while wishing they were old enough to be playing paintball.

Lydia's party is about as sophisticated as a middle schooler's party can be. There's soda served in red solo cups, there's giggles and whispers about games like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven that everyone's too weirded out by to actually play, and when Lydia's mom tells them she'll be in the guest house if they need her instead of hovering around and offering people snacks, it feels like they're being given their first real taste of freedom. Life is good for the eighth graders at Beacon Hills.

Derek's nervously rubbing his biceps when he heads inside, looking for someone he knows. He finds Lydia, whose squeal of joy hurts his ears the second it pierces them. She hugs him and starts talking way too fast about way too much, and when she offers him a tour of her house, dragging a sympathetic Allison along with them, he feels like he's being paraded around like some weird guest of honor.

He's shown the garden, the kitchen and the living room before Allison mercifully distracts Lydia by complimenting her dress, and as Allison winks at him and smiles, Derek silently gestures his thanks to her and slips away. He heads out to the pool, already in need of fresh air, and he finds Scott and Stiles sitting on the edge of it, dangling their feet in the water.

Scott sees Derek first and perks up like a puppy, slapping Stiles's arm and telling him to look, pointing at Derek in that way where he either doesn't realize he's being obvious or is too excited to care that he is. Derek feels butterflies in his stomach and immediately heads inside, walking back into the kitchen with his head down and shoulderchecking Greenberg as he goes.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Derek has always been drawn to Stiles. He's funny, he's smart. Everybody loves him. For all the progress Derek has made since he was a little kid, he's still shy and awkward, deep down. Basketball is great, his friends are great, even the suffocating and unnecessary attention he's getting at this stupid party is great, but his formative years were still spent hiding out in the library because he was too afraid of just going up to somebody and saying hello. Without all the bells and whistles, that's all he is. A loner. A loner who has to try really hard not to be one. Abnormal, maybe.

Looking at Stiles makes Derek feel like a little kid again. Like he's afraid of saying hello. That stupid, pointless, small little moment in the cafeteria last year - that inconsequential, irrelevant moment based on Stiles' powerful curly fries-eating skills not getting the recognition it deserved - that moment where they actually, for the first time, talked? It came from nowhere, and it filled him with adrenaline, and he's thought back to it again and again and again every time he's toyed with the idea of just going up to Stiles and saying hello. The excitement he felt, from having Stiles look at him. The eye contact they made. It felt better than anything. He wants that again.

He just wants Stiles to be his friend.

So he takes a breath. He thinks of the work he's put into being sociable, being strong, and he looks back to the pool, and he starts to walk. He swerves away from the door leading outside at the last second, deciding he needs a drink to get through this, and that even though soda isn't booze, it's the closest he's gonna get until he's older and it'll do in a freaking pinch. He throws back a full cup of coke and pours a second, then gets back on track, mouth already dry as he steps outside onto the wet ground.

Beside the pool, Stiles is talking to Greenberg.

Derek watches the two of them for a second, faltering, feeling the wind leave his sails now that his big moment has been interrupted by that dick. Derek suddenly understands Coach's resentment for Greenberg. He bites the inside of his cheek, patiently waiting for them to be done so he can talk to Stiles, really talk to him, like he's been wanting to for years. It's then a thought strikes him - what if Greenberg is big arms? As far as he knows, this is Greenberg's first Lydia Martin party, too, and he's on the lacrosse team with Stiles; if anyone had the opportunity to see Stiles do something stupid and embarrassing, it'd be someone like him.

Derek feels his stomach drop. He stares at Stiles, and Stiles catches his eye, and Derek suddenly feels like coming here was a mistake. He turns around, he walks through the house, and he leaves.

Lydia's voice catches him as he heads out the front door, an inquisitive "Derek?" followed up by an "oh my god, can you stop" from Jackson. Derek ignores them both, walking fast with his drink in his hand, something which ruins the otherwise dramatic atmosphere that typically pairs so well with a guy bailing from a party due to a cliched romantic misunderstanding. He walks, and he walks, and he realizes he's going to have to go back inside and ask Lydia's mom to call Laura for him seeing as he doesn't own his own phone, and that's when Stiles catches up to him.

Derek turns, and Stiles is right behind him, panting hard with his hands on his knees. Way too hard, given how short that run was. He's making these horrible noises with his throat, like his chest has collapsed in on itself and he's having trouble breathing, or something, but when Derek looks at him with concern, Stiles just holds up his hand and tells him to wait.

Taking a sip from his drink, Derek waits. Stiles keeps panting. Derek offers him his drink. Stiles shakes his head, bent over with his hands on his knees. Derek keeps waiting.

"Where are you going?" Stiles finally asks, each word punctuated with a hard wheeze.

"Uh."

Stiles says oh my god, bending even further down, his fingers gripping his jeans as tight as they can. Derek takes another sip of his drink.

"How are you this out of breath? I literally just walked to the end of her driveway."

"Shut up," Stiles wheezes.

"You're on the lacrosse team," Derek says, actually laughing. "How are you this out of shape?"

"Oh my god," Stiles says again.

"It's like you've never used your legs before."

"Can you-- shut up?" Stiles says, pounding his fist against his knee as if it'll make him catch his breath faster. Derek takes another drink and waits.

It takes a bit of time for Stiles to stand up straight, but he does, soon enough, and Derek doesn't say anything. He just arches his eyebrows and presses his lips together like he's trying not to smile, which makes Stiles sarcastically pull a face, almost annoyed. Derek smiles a little wider at that.

"Hey," Derek says, clutching his solo cup close to his chest. He's still not good at forcing himself to smile when he doesn't want to, so he's relieved one is coming to him genuinely.

"Yoooooooo," Stiles says, with the look of horror that could only belong to a boy who has never said yo in his life and doesn't know why he's starting now.

"Ran pretty fast there," Derek says.

"Yyyyeaaaahhhhh."

Derek takes another sip of his drink, but there's none left in his cup. He doesn't want to look like an idiot who takes a sip from an empty cup, though, so he pretends that there's still some soda left, holding the cup up to his lips until a sufficient amount of time has passed. Stiles saw that the cup was empty before he did this, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks again.

"I was just, uh." Derek drops his arms to his sides, then feels like he's not doing enough with his hands, so he crosses his arms over his chest, instead. It's hard to do while he's holding the solo cup, so there's a bit of a shuffle that looks about as awkward as it feels.

"I was just gonna go home," Derek says, lamely.

"Why?" Stiles asks, a little red.

"I... just... was. Why do you want to know?"

"I don't? I mean." Stiles pales, now, awfully quickly. "Everyone wants to know. Everybody. Scott. Lydia. Not Jackson. Jackson's kind of a dick. Boyd wanted to know, though. Isaac, too. You're friends with them, right?"

"Right," Derek says, staring.

"Right," Stiles says, staring back. The conversation ends.

Stiles dusts his hands off on his shirt, his palms sweaty and his face evening out to its normal pasty complexion. Derek nods like he's listening to a relative spout political diatribes he doesn't agree with, but is too polite to say so. They look at each other until the silence feels like an enemy, and they both need to do something to kill it.

"Do you want to -"

"How long have you -"

"Oh, sorry."

"It's - no, it's..."

This isn't really how Derek thought their first real conversation would go. He throws his head back, looking up at the sky, the moon glowing overhead. He watches the clouds listlessly drift on whatever current is taking control of them, and again, he feels a vice in his stomach and a fear he wants to conquer. Swallowing, Derek looks back at Stiles, who is staring at him with a softness in his eyes, like he was captivated by the way Derek looked in the moonlight. Derek's too amped up to say what he wants to say to notice.

"Look," Derek says, pulling himself together. "Listen," he says, immediately losing his nerve.

Stiles waits. This annoys Derek, who both wants to speak his mind and desperately wants the earth to swallow him whole. He takes a breath.

"I really like you," Derek says, finally, running his fingers through his hair. "I've liked you since - well, not since I first saw you, because I felt like you were stealing my friends. Which is insane, because Scott wasn't ever actually my friend, because we never even talked, but. But I've liked you since... okay, actually, I don't even know if I like you? I just watch you a lot. Which - I know that that sounds sinister, but it's not, not really. I just think about you, and I look at you, and I used to get jealous and annoyed with how easygoing and friendly you are, but now I... okay, I still get jealous and annoyed, but it's..."

Wow, Derek did not prepare for this at all. He opens and closes his mouth, staring at Stiles, and if he were a better man, he'd be able to recover from this and say something charming. Instead, he just stares, and Stiles stares back, and it feels like all they ever do is stare at each other. Derek regrets this. Derek hates this.

"Like..."

Stiles said that. Derek thinks he did, at least. Derek's not really sure what's happening right now.

"Like - like like me? Or..."

Derek keeps staring, and then he realizes what Stiles just asked, and he holds his hands up in horrified surrender.

"What."

"What?"

"What."

"Don't what me," Stiles says, combative. "You're going full romcom on me. This is, like, Notting Hill if everybody in Notting Hill had each suffered from some pretty major headwounds. Multiple major headwounds. Successively."

"What--"

"I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her, said Anna, like a stupid idiot with no friends."

"Excuse me?" Derek stands a little taller, and Stiles waves his hand through the air like he's annoyed with Derek for getting defensive.

"I'm just saying," Stiles rushes, tripping over himself. "I don't know what I'm just saying. But - I - okay."

He drops back down, hands on his knees, taking another few breaths. Derek's starting to get annoyed again. He's not even sure why he's still here, honestly.

"I like you too," Stiles says, standing up straight and trying to put some real punch into the words. "I like like you."

Derek stares. Stiles stares back! Derek's sick of Stiles staring at him like that! His heart's in his throat and his stomach is twisting over itself and he feels like he might pass out, and no matter how many times he opens and closes his mouth, he can't seem to make the right words. Part of him wants to push Stiles in the mud, and he thinks that's because he like likes him, but he can't really make heads or tails of this to know what he's thinking.

He's happy. He's just terrified, and awkward, and Stiles has never even spoken to him before. Well - except for that one time.

"Wait," Derek says. "Wait. We've only spoken once, and it was when I told Scott that you--"

"When you defended my honor, yeah. Curly fries. Very valiant." Stiles takes Derek's cup like he needs a drink, then remembers that it's empty, and he looks at Derek in such a way that Derek realizes Stiles absolutely knew the cup was empty when he pretended to drink from it.

"But that just started it," Stiles says, a little shy. "You were this weird, big, strong dude who just came out of nowhere and knew my name. You were funny and weird and awkward and I started noticing you. The way you play basketball, the way your eyebrows pinch when you read. It's... I don't know."

Stiles shrugs his shoulder, looking for the right word.

"C... ute?"

This time, when Derek feels heat prickle his face, he knows he's blushing. Noticeably, for that matter. He scratches his cheek, red and speechless, and he doesn't really know where to go from here. This hyperactive, insane little asshole likes him, and Derek thinks he likes him back. It's - a lot.

It's a lot.

"Do you want to..." Derek falters. "We don't-- we don't have to. But do you want to go back to the party? With me, I mean.".

Stiles laughs, visibly relieved. He has the air of someone who's been watching someone else, waiting for a chance to speak to them, hoping to connect with them, hoping for something, and getting far more than he ever thought he would get. Derek knows that feeling, because he's got it, too.

"Okay."

He smiles, shy, and he laughs, dragging the heel of his shoe in the ground. They're young, and they're clumsy, and it's too early for this to be anything more than just... something, but it's exciting, and it's thrilling, and Derek feels like it could really be something good. Stiles keeps looking at him like he wants to make a joke, or like he wants to be funny, and Derek keeps trying to pull himself together so he can look cool and collected and mature, but.

They're both just happy. They're happy, and they have somewhere to be. Together.

"Okay," Stiles repeats. "Wait, one thing."

Derek looks up, eyebrows together.

"Can we get you a refill? I'm dying here."

#simplyn2deep #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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