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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

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Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie�� because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Whispered Praises and a Soft Touch

Stiles is super nervous about getting a tattoo and it doesn’t help that his tattoo artist is an incredibly gorgeous man called Derek.

12 Days of Kink-mas – Day 9 (20th December): Praise Kink

[insp]

Stiles walked up to the front door of the tattoo studio, looking at the sign that hung on the glass panel that read ‘OPEN’.

He drew in a deep breath, letting the rush of cool air fill his lungs smother out the burning embers of anxiety that had settled in his chest. He let the tension in his body subside, his shoulders dropping as he pushed open the studio door.

A small bell chimed and a man stepped around the corner. He stepped in, closing the door behind him.

The sound of footsteps filled the space as a man came down from upstairs.

He was handsome, with thick black hair and a short, neat beard that cast a soft shadow across his jaw. His eyes were pale aventurine, the colour of his irises shifting in the light; from hazel to jade green, to a shade of light blue. He was dressed in a grey Henley with long sleeves hat were bunched up around his elbows, leaving his firm forearms bared. There were tattoos across his skin; one arm had the silhouettes of trees on his forearm—pine trees, elm trees, and the silhouettes of spindly trees that had lost their leaves—the roots and the ground faded into dots around his wrist. His other forearm had two roses on the underside of his arm, the delicate petals tattooed in black and white. The fine cursive script of names peeked out from beneath the unbuttoned top of his shirt.

A kind smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he met Stiles’ gaze.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm Stiles, I have an appointment," Stiles managed to say around the lump in his throat.

The man nodded.

“I’m Derek. Come on through,” he said, nodding towards the small sectioned-off rooms of the studio.

Stiles followed him, taking in his surroundings. The shop was quite modern, the plastered walls painted a soothing grey with black framed photos of tattoo designs and portraits of past customers—most of them printed in black and white—showcasing the incredible details and fine line work of their tattoos. On the counters were little cacti potted in white or concrete pots.

Derek was quick to get everything ready; showing Stiles a printed copy of the design to check the font and the spelling before transferring it to a stencil.

“You wanted it on your ribs, right?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. He shifted slightly, feeling a little self-conscious.

“You don’t have to take your shirt completely off,” Derek assured him. “You can just pull it up enough that I work.”

Stiles nodded, pulling up the side of his shirt.

"How are you with needles?" Derek asked as he cleaned Stiles' side and positioned the stencil.

"Honestly? Terrible," Stiles admitted. "But this is something I want; something I need."

"I promise I'll be gentle with you," Derek said with a soft smile. He pressed the stencil to Stiles' skin and pulled it back, leaving the outline from which he was going to work. "How's that?"

Stiles looked up at the mirror on the wall. A small smile crept up the corners of his lips as he looked at it.

The design was somewhat simple, a few lines of script in a solid text with roman numerals at the bottom��a date—positioned on his left side over his ribs.

In one of the stars I shall be living.

In one of them I shall be laughing.

And so it will be as if all the stars

were laughing, when you look at the sky at night

And so you will love to watch all the stars…

You–only you–will have stars that can laugh.

I shall not leave you.

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect."

"Alright, let’s get started.”

Stiles nodded as he lay down on the bench.

There was something about this man—something about his glittering eyes and his sweet smile—that just made Stiles feel calm.

Derek started.

Stiles tensed for a moment, exhaling heavily and relaxing. He shut his eyes and felt something press against his skin, a small prick, and then nothing.

"How was that?" Derek asked.

"Was that it?" Stiles replied, stunned. "That didn't hurt at all."

Derek chuckled. "Good."

He set to work and Stiles relaxed, his eyes slowly drifting shut as he felt Derek's fingers brush across his skin.

Time passed quickly as Stiles drifted into a peaceful oblivion, still somehow remaining completely aware of Derek's tender touch, of the warmth of his hands and of his glittering eyes that were focused solely on his work.

“You still with me?” Derek asked, his quiet voice gently shaking Stiles from his wandering thoughts.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied.

“Haven’t passed out yet?” he teased.

“Not yet,” Stiles said with a slight chuckle.

Derek chuckled in return, the deep sound rolling through Stiles’ chest and igniting every nerve.

“I like the quote,” he said, reading the tattoo.

“It’s from The Little Prince,” Stiles explained. “My mum used to read it to me every night when I was younger.”

“And the date?” Derek asked.

Stiles’ voice went quiet. “That’s the day she died.”

Derek paused for a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said; he didn’t want to admit how much I hurt to say it.

Derek was quiet for a moment.

“2004,” he read. “I lost my family the same year.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles replied, wishing he had more to say.

“Thanks,” Derek said. “I hope this tattoo gives you some kind of closure.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly. “I hope so too.”

They settled back into a comfortable quiet, the only sound was the buzzing of the machine and the even rhythm of Stiles’ breaths.

The needle hit a sensitive spot, a jolt of pain shooting through his body and burning his veins.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, fighting the urge to flinch. He let out a measured breath, calming his heart and breathing through it as the pain subsided.

“That’s it. Good boy,” Derek whispered, gently brushing a finger over the sore spot before continuing.

Stiles blinked in shock as a wave of warmth crashed over him, stirring something inside of him. He tried his best to keep his breathing even as his mind began to wander; imagining what it would be like to have Derek whisper those words in his deep voice as he lay with his body pressed against Stiles’. He wandered what it would be like to look up into Derek’s aventurine eyes and hear him say those words as Stiles took his length in his mouth, or to hear him whisper it as he gently stroked Stiles cheek as they lay in the sheets together, breathless and ragged.

The thoughts and images swirled around in his head, making it harder and harder to sit still. But there was something about the firmness of Derek’s hand and his gentle touch that grounded Stiles.

“All done,” Derek said, shaking Stiles from his thoughts.

He gently wiped down Stiles’ side and cleaned up the tattoo, setting everything aside before pushing his stool back.

“Have a look in the mirror if you want.”

Stiles sat up and rose to his feet, stepping over to the mirror and turning slightly to look at the tattoo. The fine black lines stood boldly against his pale skin.

"It's perfect," Stiles said breathlessly. "Thank you."

Derek cleaned up the rest of the tattoo, spread gel over it and wrapped it up. He gave Stiles instructions on how to care for his tattoo.

“You didn’t pass out,” Derek congratulated.

Stiles chuckled, pulling down his shirt.

“Funnily enough, you’re actually one of the best customers that has ever sat for me,” Derek told him.

“You’re kidding,” Stiles scoffed.

“You were,” Derek said.

"I mean it, Derek," Stiles said. "Thank you. I don't know if I'd have ever been able to do this if I didn't have you as my artist.”

Derek smiled.

Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

“Look, this might seem out of line slightly, but I know how hard it is to deal with losing your family, and if you ever want to talk or just want someone to spend time with…” Derek wrote something down on a piece of paper before handing it to Stiles. “Just give me a call. Any time.”

"Thanks," Stiles said, returning Derek’s smile.

“Oh, and for the record, you have nothing to be shy about,” Derek said, eyeing Stiles up and down.

#sterek #long post #text post #sterek au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #sterek praise kink au #sterek tattoo au #tattooed stiles #tattooed!stiles #tattooed derek #tattooed!derek #tattoo artist derek #tattoo artist!derek #sterek tattoo artist au #12 days of kink-mas #12 days of kink-mas event

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lets-steal-an-archive · 6 years ago

Photo

[thread]

fuckin' this, folks. and I mean you KNOW I am here for fanfic, now and always, but that is NOT what this nomination is about! do you know how advanced an archival system ao3 is? the ways its indexing and DB structure improve discoverability for MILLIONS of readers?

I know librarians who'd kill for that kind of tech! and this is glued together from cloudsourced specs while training their OWN coders on the way. and - this is not wordpress, people, they OWN THE SERVERS. they fund and pay wages for sysadmining! there's rackspace!

no, okay, look, listen, look: this is my job. I do it for a living. it is the only way I could go to cons, could take time to write. I only, only, ONLY ever took a programming class because Ao3 existed and showed me it could be done.

think of it this way: if someone nominated twitter (...go with me) for an award, would you immediately conclude they meant the tweets? pff. no. that's content. that's the squishy stuff. tech is the skeleton it rests on. well, guess what: the Archive of Our Own is Real Tech too.

's better than Amazon is for providing new content to read. god, the filters. the freeform tagging (sure, yeah, it's not Machine Learning, it's manually wrangled - someone had to go tell the robots 'AU' == 'Alternate Universe'). sort by length!! fuckin' ratings!!!

and - those of you who haven't been to ao3, y'know, may I suggest if you're curious, go take ten minutes and look? I'll wait. A good place to start might be the fandoms front page. https://archiveofourown.org/media

Go tell me if you can figure out how that works. Heck, I almost wanna start a scavenger hunt. Find a fic over 100k. Change the font to large. Go print a fic to mobi, or epub, or pdf and load it onto your tablet or kindle. Find me some meta with more than 500 comments.

The UI design is IMPECCABLE. Search box in the top right. fonts all clean and clear. never, EVER see any javascript overlaps or partial loads or slow graphics - they know better than that. you can slap a custom skin on it. heck, there's a link to the source code in the footer!

How about a fic - here we go, Speranza's classic, Written by the Victors. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15 There's a bunch of UI you don't see if you aren't logged in - the heavensent 'Mark for Later' button, for example - but still. Everything you could click is easy to grok.

Want more like it? Super easy and intuitive to click a tag, or the fandom, or a pairing (or even just M/M if you want to load half the site) and see more fic in that category. Sort by comments or hits or kudos and you get a good idea which ones are worth opening.

These folks REALLY know their UI. But, okay, hang on, yes they do, and many are trained pros, but many also aren't! the people building this site just WORK HARD, they try things out, they listen to feedback and iterate - (how much Big Tech can say as much these days)

- but ALSO, and here's what's important to realise, this is a community project, a community space, and it was DESIGNED to TEACH. (Did you know when it was first proposed, they trialed Ruby and Python to see which was quicker for beginners? I know 'cause I voted Python 🐍🤷‍♀️😂)

Do you know how rare it is to find that in Open Source? Listen, okay, I'm a professional techie and I would NE-E-EVER venture into eg the Linux core with 'Jennifer' attached to my sig in any way whatsoever. Aside from that, much of OSS is, hmm, results-oriented.

They expect you to show up fully-functional on day one, w/ a pull request ready to patch. Remind me, what's the demographic balance in Ye Average compsci program? And of those, who's working nights / caring for relatives / otherwise unable to Do Their Time posturing on github?

But the Organization for Transformative Works isn't here for that. They know (we know) that Fan is a Tool-Using Animal. idlewords.com/talks/fan_is_a… And the Archive of Our Own is proof of that.

So maybe think on that a little, the next time Patreon has a ToS hiccup. The next time Jack removes like counts. Think of what Archive coders built, in the face of Livejournal's hypocrisy, in spite of everyone telling us it was Too Much, we'd bitten off more than we could chew.

That. That's what this nomination is about. And yeah, we built it so we could host the smutty Harry/Draco and the conspiracy theories about Sansa and alllll the Naruto time travel fixit fic you could POSSIBLY ever read. And that's pretty fuckin' great, in my book.

(...I do not have a SoundCloud, but I do have a hugo nominated podcast, @serpentcast , which is entirely made up of the three of us yelling about fanfic in the same breath as professional fiction & media. which is where it has always belonged.)

#ao3 #hugo awards #fan is a tool using animal #h/t #messier51 #long post #edited for clarification #they are a nominee

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bookshelfdreams · 3 years ago

Note

Ahhhh, your self bound books just look really beautiful? All the color choices and the layout just look soooo good together. And that's such a beautiful gift? I have not read primium non nocere, as I haven't watched Charité but if it is worthy of such a tribute I am definitely giving it a shot anyway. I'd also be really interested of your creative process and choices with the binding, if you're willing to talk about that

hi omg! thank you so much <3<3 Primum Non Nocere is a very good story, and I'd say even if you haven't seen the show, give it a shot anyway, if you're interested? I mean, by all means, try the show as well, season 2 is on Netflix w english subs afaik and it's also really, really good (not perfect, but leagues better than the stuff this country usually makes abt the nazi regime). It's a retelling of canon events from a character's perspective who isn't a focal character in the show - there's probably one or two points at which it skips canon events or may seem a little jumpy, but overall, it's more of a companion piece to canon than a classic fanfic. It's very well researched and detailed; it expands on canon in beautiful ways and honestly, fits with it seamlessly; it might as well be an official novelization (although its focuses are a little different than the og)

as for the bookbinding, I'm really flattered you're interested in my process! I'm still very much a beginner, but I'm slowly figuring out something that works for me.

Also, I don't really know what information you're looking for, so I'm just gonna share some things that come to mind. This isn't really a step-by-step how-to but if you're interested in that, I can try to take some pictures next time I make a book and make a better reference post.

Typesetting

I typeset in OpenOffice because that's my office suite of choice & I'm old; I have never used google docs and I don't plan on starting. I download the fic in html, and then just copy/paste the text chapter by chapter; that's easiest for me. As for fonts, I wanted it to look vintage but I definitely didn't want it to have Nazi aesthetics. I went with Baskerville for the main text (which is such a beautiful font, it might become my go-to) (Garamond is what is most commonly used in books I think, but it almost looks too professional for me. I love that Baskerville has this very distinct, vintage feel to it.) and an Art Deco font for the title and chapter headings. Overall I think it looks more 1920's which, considering that the Nazis really hated the Weimar republic, seems fitting. I'm happy with how it turned out and I hope the author is, too :) As for the rest, it's set in 16pt, 120% line spacing and the margins could be a little larger, tbh, but it works and I'm a little stingy with the paper XD

OpenOffice also lets you draw simple graphics directly onto the document which is what I did for the title page and the little ornaments at the beginning of the chapters.

To make signatures, I use Quantum Elephant Bookbinder. It does what it's supposed to, the only thing that doesn't quite work is the flyleaf option, but I can just add that in the og pdf.

Book construction

I print on copying paper, 80gsqm. It's recycling, 55CIE which is really quite grey; I like it, because white is uncomfortable for me to look at. As for grain, I cut my sheets from A3. The grain is also wrong there, so I ended up wasting half the paper. Whatever; I think it's worth it. Having the grain in the right direction (parallel to the spine) makes it feel so much more like an actual book and not just a stack of copying paper stapled together. I honestly believe it's more important than having fancy paper.

After folding, I do not use a model and an ale for punching holes; instead I put all the signatures together in my makeshift press (2 old cutting boards and 2 bar clamps), I draw some guidelines and then I use a fine saw to cut them all at once.

I sew the signatures on tapes for stability; it makes keeping consistent tension easier. I use linen bookbinder's thread (worth it) and cotton tapes from the craft store (they do their job, and linen sewing tapes are hard to source & expensive). I do not have a sewing frame; but what I do is, I tape the tapes to the underside of my cutting mat, place the signature on top (fold aligned with the edge of the mat) and use a weight to keep it in place. It works okay.

After sewing, I round the spine with this method, which works surprisingly well. I do not trim the edges (I know myself well enough to know that it would not end well) & instead tap the short sides & spine to the table to align the signatures as perfectly as possible.

The rest is done as in pretty much any other tutorial. No backing, because I don't have equipment for that. I like to sand down the edges of the cover boards a little, so they're a bit rounded; I think it makes for nicer haptics.

Decorations

I like to make as much of the book myself as possible. There's several reasons for that; first of all, fancy handmarbled or printed paper, headbands, bookmarks etc are expensive. Second, I have a crafting addiction & what's the point of projects like this when you buy everything you could make yourself, right? But thirdly (most importantly) it's simply that my book blocks look pretty shitty (that's, untrimmed and uneven). But that's okay; you gotta embrace the "amateurishly handmade" look & just have to amateurishly handmake everything. Adding just one or two perfect, machine-produced details looks kinda jarring.

Paper decoration - mix water soluble paint and wallpaper paste and go wild (videos are in German, sorry, idk if this is a thing that's really done in the anglophone world? But I think they're pretty easy to follow even if you don't understand the instructions). I like to use this for covers, mainly, I'm also experimenting with decorating endpapers this way. The paste makes the paper really rough and horrible to the touch; as the very last step, I wax the cover (with a beeswax-based furniture polish. Floor wax works as well, it just doesn't smell very nice). Be careful not to get any on the bookcloth, it will cause stains & ruin everything at the last second.

Headbands - I found this tutorial very helpful.

Bookmarks - this gave me so much trouble. Most amateur bookbinders seem to use cotton, polyester or satin ribbons, which is fine, I guess. I don't particularly like either option. At first I thought I could weave my own; that didn't work out, because weaving tiny bands is harder than it looks (& also the resulting ribbon was much too stiff). But! Bookmarks in professionally made books aren't woven at all; they're braided. Seven-stranded braids work pretty well (tutorial is for 5 strands, but 7 strands work the same). As for the headbands, embroidery floss is best imho (silk would, of course, be traditional but come on). Mercerised cotton crochet thread works as well but isn't quite as nice.

this turned out way too long lol. Sorry. Hopefully the answer you were looking for is in there somewhere. Again, thank you and have a lovely evening!

#also feel free to ask if theres anything more youd like to know #<3 #hoard of fanfiction #anonymaus #message

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chisie12 · 5 years ago

Text

Gency Week Day 4: Morning Glory/Affection

A little late for Day 4 but I do hope you enjoy!

Just some notes: Meine Maus is German for 'My mouse', a small term of endearment. Jungspunde (if you've seen it in Dance of Silver) just means 'youngster' These might also be spelled wrong. My fav German is currently asleep. So mistakes are on me.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45535678

Day 4: Desire and Desiderium

The last week's event with the daffodils had been successful. The limited time food and drinks were quite a hit with the customers. Upon opening the cafe, she picked up the mail in the mailbox on the way, dropped them onto the counter and begun the early setup. She worked silently and efficiently, not a single word of complaint escaping. She was happy to be able to put her back into this, to the point she hummed a small tune. The melodious sound echoed in the empty cafe and unbeknownst to her, a shadow was watching her the whole time. But he never showed himself, at least not until a little later.

Dawn had just broken when she finished putting the chairs down and a cheerful voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Good morning, Angela!”

“A very good morning to you too, Mei,” the blonde grinned and they started cooperating on getting the cafe ready. Angela entered the kitchen, preparing the ingredients that needed to be used that day as Mei checked on the machines that they would use for the drinks.

“Last week was really fun!” Mei giggled, bending over the counter on the tip of her toes. With a flick of her finger, the switch to the coffee machine was turned on. “We should hold another event like that again!”

“I agree!” Angela’s laughter drifted out from the open kitchen door.

“Have you seen the posts online?”

“No?”

That’s when Angela suddenly found herself — after finding her phone and opening the social media applications — grinning at the comments she read online.

“Homemade Swiss chocolates. Definitely not for children unless you want to put them to sleep!” A user posted a picture of chocolate drops finely presented on a porcelain plate. Each chocolate was different, some were spherical, some dome-shaped and white one was heart-shaped. By its side, fresh, cut strawberries decorated them, a chocolate drizzle lightly covering the juicy redness.

A commenter responded below the picture: “Oh my God. Did she draw the angel around the chocolates?”

Because right on the other side of the fruits, an angel in dark chocolate was drawn embracing the alcoholic sweetness.

“Yes, she did!”

Users, especially young teenagers, who found out of the event the week after were feeling utter regret. How did they not find out about this café sooner? And those flowers around the cafe! Warm lighting! Perfect Instantgram photos!

Pride swelled up within the blonde café owner. Her hard work had paid off! Those angels were not easy to draw, especially when 60% of her customers requested it and only she knew how. She scrolled down further on the social media results of the café’s social media tag, upon which she spotted the handiwork of Mei herself.

“Mei! Come look at this!” She yelled out to Mei who was busy concocting another iced drink in the kitchen. The Chinese girl popped her head out as Angela brought the phone over to her.

“Oh, I haven’t seen this!” Mei exclaimed and she read out loud, "Mei's ice cream rolls! Made on the spot! Do you feel your mouth watering now?”

In the picture was the image of cookies and cream ice cream rolls placed in a glass sundae cup held up by beautifully manicured nails, with similar flavoured Pocky sticks further adorning the creamy sweetness.

"You were at Mercy's Apothecary?! Why didn't you bring me!” A user commented with a series of angry emojis.

The two of them giggled at some comments that followed after, feeling immensely proud after such a hectic week. They took a quick breather, simply reading post after post, comment after comment, until one caught their eyes.

“I heard that their menu was designed a little after some of the fallen Overwatch team members. Do you think that’s true?"

“I remember the names Hellfire Shots and Sleep Special in the night drinks menu. Are they some?”

“Their Rum Punch was named ‘It’s High Noon’, I believe.”

“I ate some sandwiches named Grillmaster 77. And I think the Lemon Syrup Tea was called Mountain D.Va? Isn’t D.Va the Korean eSports celebrity who was in the army before joining Overwatch?”

"Do you think she was part of them?”

"She does look a lot like the blonde doctor that used to be on the field!"

Angela’s face contorted into confusion. What were the users saying? She had come up with those names on the fly. Overwatch? She didn’t know anyone from that organisation. The closest person she knew to an agent was Jack, and Genji (Jesse and Lena too), but even he wasn’t from Overwatch. At least, she didn't think so. And she definitely wasn't.

“Angela?”

The blonde woman shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just speculations. I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Mei looked on worriedly. “Al…right. If you say so.” She turned back into the kitchen, but not without taking a second glance back. Angela’s eyebrows were furrowed into a deep confusion, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Her fingers clenched at the phone before she clicked it off.

Speculations? They're not speculations at all.

‘Why would Angela be confused? What was wrong with their comments?’ Mei sighed inwardly before grabbing the drink she just made and coming back out.

“Here.”

Angela looked up from her thoughts. “Thank you,” she said upon receiving the iced tea.

Mei took the other seat beside Angela behind the counter.

Angela then picked up the letters and looked through them. “There’s one addressed to you.”

“That’s weird? I didn’t set the cafe’s address for anything.” Mei took the letter with a frown as she sipped on her green tea frappuccino. She flipped the letter over. "There's no sender either."

Angela hummed as she opened each letter, the majority being bills that she had to pay. At one letter however, was an enveloped exactly identical to Mei's, down to the font used on the front. Mei originally brushed the letter away, her attention directed more at her phone, but when Angela looked over to compare their envelopes, even she couldn't help but be curious. Tacitly, they simultaneously tore their respective envelope open and picked out the paper folded within.

"Dear Angela, I am pleased to invite you and your Overwatch teammates to attend a specially organised masquerade dinner celebrating your good deeds. The event will take place on the 13th next Friday at Lumiere Hotel. We will also be graced with the appearance of a special guest joining us that evening," Angela muttered under her breath. Below the body were details of the event printed in elegant cursive text.

Feeling a presence peer at her letter, Angela looked up with a quirked eyebrow at Mei. "Oh, it is the same too!"

Huh? Same too? What did she mean by 'too'?

Seeing the inquisitive, baffled expression on Angela's face, Mei was beginning to be convinced that something was wrong with Angela, otherwise why else would she be rough with Genji?; wouldn't react upon seeing Junkrat or Roadhog except for confused silence; upon treating her like merely a colleague when they've shared late nights discussing the effects of climate and weather in relation to cybernetics; upon receiving the overly friendly smile you receive when you weren't good friends yet.

But they were. And have been for years — ever since she joined Overwatch after being thawed out.

"I received the same invitation," Mei waved her letter.

"Overwatch?" Angela tested the words on her tongue, so foreign yet why did it feel so familiar at the same time. She'd felt it before, just only a little over four months ago, when she saw his face wrapped around that scarf, the faint scars carved into his skin. It was… just like the time she did with Genji. Her face furrowed into confusion. Wait, if Mei received one too then wasn't she from Overwatch too?

"Yeah, Overwatch," Mei parroted without missing a beat before Angela could question. She contemplated whether to continue or not, to inform Angela that they've gone out into the field together way back when Overwatch still stood tall and proud, but something tugged at her not to say and to not intrude into the matters of others, yet… "Angela, were —"

"G'day, snowflake!" Junkrat slammed the cafe doors open. The maniacal grin dancing on his lips stretched wider when his eyes found their target sitting together with Angela. "How ya doin'!" He bounded over to the women as Roadhog lowered his head to enter the just-tad-too-short doors.

Mei waved Angela to remain sitting while she stood up to attend to their new regular customers. "Good morning, Jamie. What's your order today?"

Junkrat chuckled under his breath and, for the first time Mei saw him, he straightened his spine and leaned back. His hips were pushed forward, thumbs hooked in his pockets and she found herself flicking her gaze onto his remaining fingers. "You."

"Alright! I'll get that — wait, what?" She had subconsciously jabbered on in routine when his order finally clicked in her mind. "M-Me?"

"Yes, 'flake. You." The slightly crazed man grinned while he watched her reaction, having caught her gaze. "What say you? You, me, on a date?"

Was it just her or was the cafe heating up? Junkrat watched, satisfied at the deep flush her fair cheeks were sporting. Her pink lips parted, only to have her teeth nibble at her bottom lip. The seconds felt like minutes and everything slowed down in that very moment; Angela watched with curiosity deeming proud for a feline, Junkrat puffing out his chest with the pride of a lion, and Mei, poor flabbergasted, confused Mei, simply pinched and played with her fingers. Was he playing a joke on her? If he was, it was such a sick joke! But as she lifted her eyes to glance at him, the shred of sincerity shining in his eyes caused her to flinch. Was it real? It really seemed so real. Should she accept?

‘I mean like, it wouldn’t hurt to right? Maybe? Argh! I don’t know!’ Mei felt as though animated tears streaming down her distraught face as she wished she was holed up in a corner to her thoughts.

This was just too sudden! This wasn’t the Jamie — Junkrat — that she knew! Where did that crazy, maniacal laughing, bubble tea loving pyromaniac go! She’d rather face his usual babble of explosions and threats of blowing this building, that building, or even the park if he could just because some dog peed on his leg (and no, clearly not on the fleshy leg).

As the time ticked by, Junkrat’s confident smile twitched at the corner. It shouldn’t be taking that long to decide would it? Or did she not find him attractive enough? That what? She preferred those stick thing, unreliable Asian men better (with of course, excluding that cyborg ninja Genji and archer Hanzo. Those two could give me one hell of a run if they tried, he scoffed)?

“Uh…”

His ears perked up at the soft voice, just like the little tweet of a nightingale and his eyes sparkled with anticipation. Really, just what could go wrong, right?

Everything, of course.

The door, for the second time that day, opened with the lightest of push, but it was that small creak that sounded especially deafening in the tense silence. In stepped a tall, muscular blond man whose blue eyes first beamed at spotting Angela behind the counter, before falling onto a nervous Mei and a threatening Junkrat.

“You — What are you doing to Mei?” Jack stepped towards Junkrat with a level glare. “You wouldn’t happen to be threatening a waitress, would you?”

“Fuck off, cunt. I was just asking her a question!” Junkrat returned the glare with one of his own. “Fucking ruined the moment!”

Jack ignored his cussing, turning to Mei instead. Gesturing at the angry pyromaniac with a flick of his chin, he asked, “Is that true?”

“U-Uh, yeah. He was,” Mei heaved a mental sigh of relief at seeing a familiar face walk through the door. Oh gosh, she couldn’t even begin imagining what she’d do if unacquainted customers came by!

Jack was about to continue questioning her when a gentle voice cut him off. “It’s alright, Jack. He really wasn’t threatening her.”

At Angela’s reassurance did the agent relax his guard and walk up to the second cashier, to which she stood up to man. He observed her grinning countenance, scanning for any abnormalities, but he found none. ‘So, the letter hasn’t arrived?’ His mind floated towards the ninja that appeared moments before he entered, frowning at the memory. 'Did she see him too?'

Angela paid no heed to his stare and continued gracing him with her smile. “Good morning. You’re not normally in this early, or this often.”

Concluding that it really hasn’t arrived and haven't seen the cyborg ninja, he returned her grin and shook his head. “I just miss you that’s all. I was wondering if you’re free later today after work as I got a day off.”

“Sure, I don’t have anything planned. What did you want to do?” she responded almost immediately.

“Just perhaps a walk in the park? Thought we could both do with a nice change in pace,” he suggested.

“Sounds good to me.”

Junkrat seethed at the side, scowling darkly at the scene and faced Mei again. She half feared that he was going to ask her out again and forced herself to keep smiling. If he asked, she’d reply! If not, then… well. She wasn’t sure?

“Just give me the breakfast set. Roadie will have the same but with more sausages.” Instead, he grumbled under his breath while glaring at the till.

Somehow, just somehow, Mei was disappointed. Was she only worth that much to him? Was it really a joke after all? She carefully took his payment and gave him his order number before quickly entering the kitchen to prepare the meal. Simple dishes like this, she could do, but anything that required more skills, they were normally sent to the kitchen staff on hand or Angela to complete. However just for this meal, just this one, even if she’d deny it in front of others, she wanted to at least make that crazy man his breakfast. Juicy, ripened tomatoes were sliced in half before being lightly seasoned with salt and pepper with a drizzle of olive oil before being baked in the oven. On the frying pan was a couple of thick striped bacon and sausages sizzling away that she flipped over before checking on the simmering pot of water. With a dash of vinegar, she then stirred to create a whirlpool before carefully cracking a fresh large egg into it. She watched in anticipation as the egg whites swirled and danced around the yolk, like a butterfly’s wings cocooning itself.

It didn’t take long to finish the meal. The tomatoes came out first and then poached eggs, and she neatly plated them on a warm porcelain plate. A garden salad was placed on the side with a lemon balsamic tang before the bacon and sausages was put on. She repeated the same on another plate but with added sausages. Once content with everything, she brought out the plates, one in each hand and sauntered towards the table. This time, confidence was oozing out of her every pore and it showed, as Junkrat’s attention was suddenly shifted towards her as he caught her from the corner of his eye. His eyes were locked onto the delicious upward tug of her lips before blinking at the glint in her eyes so bright behind the glasses. He visibly gulped the lump in his throat when he watched her curves dance towards him with mouth-watering meals in her possession.

“Here you go. A breakfast special made especially for you.” The plates lightly thudded on the wooden table and Junkrat was stunned at the smile that she gave him.

He gulped again, somehow noticing that the distance between them was rather short. He could feel the heat that radiated off her body and even when she pulled her hands back to her side, they were made deliberately slow and elegant as she turned to fully face him. “So,” she whispered breathily. Goosebumps tickled his skin when her cold fingertips graced his warm ones gripping the armrest. “Is the date still on?”

“W-Wha?” Incoherent words tumbled off his tongue. What was his Snowflake saying?

Mei grinned cheekily at his response and the confidence building within allowed her to lean forward just by a few inches, enough so that the words rolling off her lips would tickle his ear. “The date. The date you wanted to take me on. When will you take me out?”

The warm breath, so unlike her cold fingertips, caressed his ear and he shivered at the intensity of it all. The words repeated in his mind over and over again, before his mind finally processed it and he felt his lips tug at the corner. His shock vanished like a drop of water in the desert and he returned her gesture, sheer satisfaction blooming at the pinkness that slowly crept upon her cheeks. Leaning on his arm, he closed into her face, the smug smirk playing off his lips. “Oh, babe. We can have a date tonight if you want. Or even right here, right now.” Then, with his free hand, Junkrat lightly traced his thumb over her parted lips with a quick, fluid motion. “Of course, if you rather not, my flames are hot as fuck like the Australian sun and it’ll definitely keep you warm at night.

It was like the kettle going off when the last of his breathy words kissed her lips. Mei’s face flushed entirely red where it rivalled the juiciest ripened red apples, feeling extremely hot to the point she believed steam was about to rise. Just what, why, how, what?

With his smirk widening, Junkrat leaned back and winked. “I’ll see you tonight then, Snowflake.”

With a blink of her eyes, Mei managed to compose herself before smiling sweetly at him. “Okay!”

When Mei walked away, cheeks still a little red and a little flustered, but her steps had a bounce to them. Angela grinned upon seeing that and couldn’t help her eyes wandering over to Jack who was seated by the window, eating his sandwich and reading the news. She too, was pretty eager for tonight.

“Oh, good morning Ana!” Mei chirped when an elderly lady appeared by the door. Her skin was tanned and white hair braided neatly, but unlike normal women, one of her eyes were hidden behind an eyepatch.

“Good morning. I brought the new batch of flowers for this week,” Ana smiled as she held up the pots of morning glory. The royal purples were a beautiful contrast from their dark leaves and a fresh scent immediately wafted around the cafe. “I have the rest in my car.”

Angela beamed at the morning glory. They were absolutely beautiful! And they seemed to have just bloomed as well. Gratefully taking the heavy pot from Ana’s hands, she proceeded to set it down near the door, close enough to be by the entrance but not enough to get destroyed when the door opened (courtesy of a particular fellow).

While Ana turned around to get the other pots, a burly man standing at easily over 2 metres was blocking the doorway. In his thick arms were two large pots of morning glory, the trellises covered with buds in full bloom. “Ana, Meine Maus. You left your car door open.”

Ana grinned lopsidedly at the man. Steps filled with elegance and a deathly vibe, she walked up towards the man and lifted her hand to gently caress his cheek on her tiptoes. The short hairs of his beard tickled her calloused palm. “Why wouldn’t I, my love? I could easily spot you from a mile away.”

Reinhardt, the big old burly man chuckled lovingly at the smaller woman before him. Her head was lowered as she lifted her one eye to blink innocently up at him. “And besides, you wouldn’t let anyone steal a defenceless old woman’s car, would you?”

Her whisper was only audible for him to hear and he couldn’t help guffawing at the bashful, defenceless look she was putting on. Her? Defenceless? Hah! She could easily send someone to meet their father in Heaven if she wanted to!

“And besides, who would steal the car when someone like you was already stealing flower pots out of it?”

His laughter bellowed louder in the cafe. Nimbly, he pecked her on the forehead, the adoration so clear in his gaze. “Oh, Meine Maus. I’m just helping you carry these heavy things.” He knew full well that she could easily handle these pots herself too with all the years having been in the field with her sniper rifle, and gods, that gun was not light to begin with. “I even finished training the Jungspunde as fast as I could, just so I could see you.”

Ana smiled and stepped aside to allow Reinhardt entry, mouthing him a silent ‘thank you’ before turning to Angela. “Tell him where you’d like them.”

She warmed at the scene before her, feeling rather wistful from it all. When would she be able to experience something like that? A simple, comfortable relationship with nothing else that was more important. A sigh slipped from her lips before she stepped forward to instruct Reinhardt on the positioning of the plants. A few customers arrived when the cafe was being transformed into a mini garden once more whom Mei attended to as Angela handled the decorations. It was bittersweet, watching the old couple. Sweet, simple ministrations of small pecks, rubbing of her cheek on his bicep, and unburdened laughter that was so addictive that the others couldn’t help but join in too.

“Thank you.”

Ana and Reinhardt looked up from their seats to smile at Angela who brought a plate of food and a tray of refreshments. Setting the sandwiches down with the drinks, she thanked the couple once more.

“It’s our pleasure, Angie. You’re doing really well with the cafe.” Ana commented, her words tinged with pride.

“It’s a team effort,” Angela responded bashfully. And that was true. Without Jack’s assistance in forming the cafe, she would have then never built the cafe up to the standard that she wanted; He was the one who found Ana the florist, and not long after she posted job positions, Mei came (with a few other staff of course, but the Chinese woman was the most memorable one out of the lot) with her refreshing iced drinks. When she faced the couple again, there was something that nagged at her mind, itching at her to ask: “How do you make it work?” She knew Reinhardt was somewhere in the military; the guy had to be with that kind of body!

“You mean relationships?” Ana asked back and she nodded. When the old woman turned to look at Reinhardt, she caught his silent, endearing gaze as he nibbled on his sandwich and her lungs burst out into giggles. “They’re work, Angie. Definitely not 50/50. Some days when I get up, I feel like only giving 10% of my effort and my love here will have to step up to give 90% that day.”

“But there’s 100% love,” Reinhardt finished for her as he handed her the cup to drink. “It’s really hard to put it into words because it can’t really be measured. Sometimes you just gotta feel for it.”

“But how would you know who?”

“Someone who feels like home,” Ana grinned, taking Reinhardt’s hand into hers. “It’s not about the excitement or the things you share in common. Sometimes, it’s really just someone that makes you feel comfortable, someone that you can go home to and relax without a worry.”

“Without a worry, huh…”

“How come, Angie? Is there someone on your mind?” Ana questioned, leaning back as she daintily picked up her cup and sipped her tea. She truly did wonder, just who might have Angela ended up with? She watched the pondering woman closely, feeling slightly odd at the sight. The blonde cafe owner before her was nothing like the doctor she knew back in Overwatch, like something… had changed. It wasn’t such a major, drastic change no. Just something subtle, something you wouldn’t have been able to grasp if you weren’t attentive enough.

Angela hummed as she hugged the tray closer to her chest. At first, her eyes darted towards Jack, her questioning gaze staring at his back. Would he be the one? Sure, they’ve shared laughter and smiles before, but that’s all there was. It was like there was never a rainy day between them and honestly, that was nice. She felt happy with him and rather free, yet simultaneously, there were times where she had to constantly put that smile on — even if she didn’t want to. Putting away her fatigue, her stress for the day, just so she could smile for him… was that really what she wanted? Yes, she was smiling. Yes, they laughed together. And he'd helped her with a new beginning. But it was just so tiring…

Ana caught onto the direction of her gaze, and so did Reinhardt. They both shared a glance, untold conversations silently weaving through the air.

"I haven't seen Genji in awhile. How is he doing?"

Angela was snapped out of her reverie at the man's question. Genji… huh. "I haven't seen him in awhile. I guess he must be busy."

Reinhardt let out a sound of acknowledgment. "I suppose he is. But shouldn't you check up on him? To make sure he's working fine?"

She was startled. "Huh? What do you mean?"

This time it was Reinhardt who was surprised. "Am I wrong? Don't you regularly perform checks on him? To make sure the cybernetic parts of his body are operating at optimum levels, or something?" He paused, holding her gaze with his quirked eyebrow. "Am… I not right? These things are just too confusing!"

"I - I…"

At a loss for words, the cafe owner flinched back a small step. Everything in her was a mess lately. She hadn't believed Genji the first time he told her she was a doctor, that she was in Overwatch, but then the letter came. Inviting her. And then, now this.

Was this why they all gave her weird expressions when they first met? When Mei came for an interview and she appeared all cheerful, only to be shocked and confused, before the same smile was brought back, although albeit forced. Angela honestly always thought that the icy woman was just someone who wore her heart on her sleeve while still being capable of maintaining a professional attitude; the ability to create the iced drinks were just icing on the cake. And when Angela first met Ana, the older woman had instantly treated her with warmth, giving off the vibe of a loving grandmother who desperately wanted to give hugs and cookies. Yet, when Angela kept that professional distance and introduced herself, Ana, similarly like Mei, had given her an expression full of confusion.

As though they were supposed to adjust be acquainted.

But she… couldn't remember.

Remember.

It's always her memory. Something was definitely missing. Something related to Overwatch. Something she should have known but couldn't. Something… argh! What was it? If only she could —

The door to the cafe opened and the first wave of breakfast customers came rushing in to get their daily coffee and food. Dropping the topic right there, Angela quickly returned to her position with an apology and helped Mei attend to the customers.

"Something's not right… with Angie."

"I agree, Meine Maus. It's like she can't remember us."

"But it's only been a little under five years since the disbandment of Overwatch."

The couple had only gotten in touch with Angela from time to time before she opened the cafe. That was simply life. You'd get busy and things start to pile up. You'd focus on one task before moving onto the next, or even, you'd just sit and laze there, waiting for the time to pass for the exact reason that things were starting to pile up, like pile up.

"I don't know, my love. It's not as simple as that…" And pursed her lips while her motherly sixth sense was tingling. Something. Was terribly wrong.

Angela busied herself with the customers, plastering on the usual smile as the wave kept coming for breakfast or early lunches. She'd pass Jack occasionally with a plate of food or with a tray of drinks, and though she wished she could forget about what the old couple has mentioned, her mind constantly strayed away. Would he be the one? Was he the one I feel like home? She glanced at Jack as she walked towards the table behind him before quickly lowering her lashes. The image of his smiling side profile flitted into her mind, chin in palm and a warm mug in the other. He watched the people by the sidewalk pass by the cafe while the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. A lovely day indeed.

After serving the drinks, she too, looked out the window. 'It's been sunny for awhile,' she noted mentally. 'I wonder when will it rain?'

Her footsteps immediately paused and her nose wrinkled.

If every day was a sunny day, who would not wish for rain?

His words, crisp and clear, rang in her mind. It was already muddled with thoughts, a total mess of a mindscape like messy clothes strewn carelessly around the room, but his words remained bolded and strong. Her lips subconsciously twitched upward.

True. We all need a rainy day once in awhile.

And when the day had come and gone, the sun finishing its cycle to allow space the moon to bask in its glory, Angela stood outside her cafe with her face towards the fiery sky. Hues of orange and yellow painted the clouds a passionate colour, with a visible of violet and pink. She released a deep sigh, letting it all out and the gentle breeze blew, caressing her cheek and danced with her hair. It's been 17 weeks since she opened the cafe, 17 weeks since her new beginning, and two weeks since she saw him. Was he doing well? Was he eating well? Did those scars hurt?

"Have fun!" Mei called out from inside the cafe. Junkrat was waiting on her inside, fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest as he balanced the car on its two back legs.

"Thanks for closing up!" Angela smiled. There was still 30 minutes to closing, but Mei had offered to close up, giving the owner the short break from the Monday Mayhem. They hadn't expected it to be so busy, but after the first wave came, they never stopped.

Jack waved bye to Mei after a warning glance at Junkrat to come stand beside Angela. "You cold?" He asked when he saw her crossed arms.

Smiling sweetly, she shook her head. "Not really. I'm fine."

Although he acknowledged her words, he still removed his coat and gingerly wrapped it around her shoulders. An indescribable feeling washed over her, the emotions bubbling up to her throat. He was sweet, such a gentleman, and he was strong and loyal. But why did she feel like there was something that she could never cross? Something held her back, an invisible threshold her heart refused to jump across.

"Come, let's go to the park nearby."

However, just as he uttered those words, the darkening sky lost its passionate hue as dark clouds immediately converged above the city. Lightning flashed before their eyes as the winds picked up speed, with barely three seconds later as the thunder clapped, the sound rumbling and shocking her nerves.

Instantly, like a tear in the sky, it started pouring. Angela stood beneath the eaves of her cafe, watching the grey faded curtain of the rain fall before her. The chill pervaded her senses, yet the feeling was refreshing, a nice calm in the chaos of her heart.

"Shit. I'll go borrow an umbrella." Jack turned back into the cafe.

Angela hummed nonchalantly, her attention still on the pitter-pattering of rain. Her fingers, still on her cross arms, twitched, as though something was missing — something that had normally done before. A sad smile flitted onto her lips the more she thought about it. The empty slate of memories that she had of year before her awakening in the hospital, that wide gap, was beginning to get on her nerves. The doctors said that with time, her memories should resurface. Nothing was wrong with her that was extremely detrimental, everything was functioning alright. At least, that's what the doctors said.

Were they right?

She began to seethe at the doubt that arose. What was the truth? What was the lie?

"Ahh, there aren't any umbrellas in the cafe," Jack groaned as he returned to her side. "Why isn't there one? Sigh… what would you like to do?" He felt dejected at the weather, inwardly cursing the bad timing to have it rain. After so long of finally getting a day off just to spend it with her, it rained. It. Just. Had. To. Rain. Fuck.

Angela didn't even spare him a glance, too lost in her thoughts when she suddenly cried out in pain at the sharp stab to her brain. It pulsed and burned, like a knife was carving in her skull. A faint, blurry memory was resurfacing, the scene dark, but she felt a sense of comfort. A phantom warmth crept on her cheek, like a gentle caress of the wind, but the calloused touch brought shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and relished in the memory, as blurry as it may be.

Murmured whispers began to echo.

“Oh, it’s raining.”

“Mmm, it would seem like it is.”

“If I recall, it was raining when I found you too.”

“Yeah, it was raining just like this at that time.”

“I’m glad that I did though.”

“Huh?”

“It allowed me to meet you.”

The close intimacy of those words brought upon a wave of desire and anguish in her heart. The man’s voice was familiar, too familiar in fact and the same instinctual feeling she felt weeks ago — buried long ago — resurfaced.

She tried to calm her breathing, the pain now throbbing a dull ache. By her side, Jack was worried and anxious, but his words fell on deaf ears. She couldn’t hear a word he uttered, nor could she hear Mei’s.

“Then I propose we have a date in the rain.”

“In the rain? Then I’ll just have to bring an umbrella.” The her in the memories giggled, giggled, at the prospect of walking in the rain.

There came the phantom caress once again, causing her heart to burn with renewed fervor.

“Two lovers in the rain have no need for an umbrella.”

His name, barely audible in the rain, was murmured under her breath, a soft kiss of desiderium that warmed and at the same time, anguished her within.

The large hands that held onto her arm and patted her back brought her out of her senses, and cruelly back to reality. She snapped her head towards a worried Jack and she stared into his eyes so blue that mirrored her countenance. Did he know?

'Did Jack know anything of me in Overwatch?' She thought. 'If he did, why wouldn't he tell me?'

An uneasy feeling rose up his throat at the blank, level stare that she gave him. Did she recover her memories?

The doctors said that with time, her memories should resurface, but it was Jack that told her, "It's alright if you don't remember. Each day is a new beginning."

What were his intentions then? She believed him like a baby depended on its mother when it first opened its eyes. He was there by her bed when she woke up, there when she felt lost at everything, there when every new thing popped up. But now —

Just how much shit could she have avoided if she knew his intentions from the start?

"Angie…?" He tested the waters warily, a sense of danger sparking off in his mind. An angry woman was after all, more dangerous than any sniper bullet.

The unreadable expression on her beautiful countenance disappeared with the blink of an eye as the same smile he was used to appeared. "Oh, I'm sorry. I blanked out."

He heaved a mental sigh of relief. Outwardly, he returned her smile. "You were in pain just now. Did your head hurt?"

"Yeah, but it's fine now."

And now, for the actual worry. "Did you recover your memories?"

Angela closed her eyes as she shook her head, using that moment of darkness to hide the sharp glint in her gaze. Memories? Yeah, she recovered just the slightest bit of them, but it doesn't look like he wanted her to. However, she easily lied through her smile, "No. I didn't. I think I'm just cold. I want to go home. Sorry about this."

Jack patted her head and she forcefully repressed the urge to flinch. "You don't have to apologise." I do. "I'll send you home."

She wanted to refuse him, to go alone and sit with her thoughts, but seeing the eagerness in his eyes made it sizzle away. "Sure."

And as they ran across the streets, jacket or hands covering their heads, a lone shadow appeared by the cafe door. In his hand was a brown paper bag. For the first time in two weeks, he wasn't in his cyborg suit. He didn't shiver at the cold, feeling a hollow space in his heart. For two weeks, he held back in seeing her. For two weeks, he worked hard to finish the thing in the bag. For two weeks… he tried to swim against the raging waves of his mind, that she didn't intentionally forget who he was, that she didn't intend to leave him, to hurt him like this.

Yet, when I tumbled and turned in my thoughts, I always came to the same conclusion: It's sad when the person that gave me the best memories, becomes a memory.

"Genji! You're here." Mei greeted me despite Junkrat's scowls and grumbles. "Do you want something to drink?"

I shook my head, looking around the cafe for any signs of Angela. Water dripped from my hair, wet clothes clinging to my body and the scent of morning glory entered my senses. Affection, I vaguely remembered its meaning. Mei caught onto my gaze and asked, "Are you looking for Angela? She just left with Jack before you arrived."

I gave her a bitter smile. Jack. Jack Morrison again. He stopped me from entering this morning when I gathered enough courage to see her as the cafe opened, and when I heard his words, I swallowed the acid in my throat and resolutely walked away. The dragon in my blood stirred, the unaccepting fury bubbling.

"What are you doing here, Genji?"

"Commander," I had curtly replied with the same brown bag in hand. Tugging my scarf higher, I continued. "I'm here to see Angela."

Jack shook his head, arms crossed on his chest as he leaned his weight on a foot. "You're just going to hurt her when she sees you."

"Why?" I narrowed my eyes, the dark irises flashing a dangerous red and Jack tensed his muscles in retaliation.

Instead of replying, Jack shook his head and shifted the topic. "You know. It was amazing how you two have been friends for so long. She talked about you all the time."

My ears perked up. "She did?"

"Yeah, I have to say, I have no idea how you didn't fall in love with her yet." My heart ached at the bitter memory of months ago. "Lucky for me though."

And I swore, I was about to pummel him for the smug grin he graced me with. Had he thought I hadn't felt that? That they were together? That I had missed out on my only chance just because of a damn mission?

"Did you have to fucking tell me that?" I growled at him. "Then go, go to her."

And I had then turned around, my back to the cafe, to her, and walked away, and it was with that, that I missed Jack's agonised expression, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

"I wish I could. She hasn't even agreed to date me."

Turning my attention back to Mei, I ignored Junkrat by the side and handed her the bag. "Could I leave this bag here with you?"

"What's in it?"

My face twitched into a smile. "Nothing much."

Mei narrowed her eyes in jest. "Really? It's not something I need to be afraid of, right?"

I shook my head but Junkrat had been faster, grabbing the paper bag from my grip before she could lay a finger on it. "No! If it's fucking dangerous, cunt. You're not leaving it here with her."

I rolled my eyes at the pyromaniac. "It's a lot less dangerous than you."

"Damn right it should be!" He proudly exclaimed.

Mei laughed at his antics, taking the bag away from him. "I'll keep this safe. How have you been?"

I could sense the hidden worry in her tone and I chuckled sadly. "As good as I can be. Jesse and Lena are helping me through this ordeal."

Mei hummed in agreement. "That's good. Angela is a little different though."

I scoffed lightly. "Of course. She's lost her memories. Doesn't remember a single thing."

Mei gasped. "Seriously? Aiya, no wonder she found it weird when she got the letter. Did you get it too?"

I raised an eyebrow. "That dinner invitation?" At her nod, I replied, "Yeah. I did."

"Hey, hey. What letter! Why am I not invited to something Snowflake is invited to?" Junkrat grumbled with a scowl.

Mei rolled her eyes. "Cause you're not part of Overwatch."

Junkrat narrowed his eyes at her. "You aren't anymore too!"

I turned my head away from their public display of affection and bid them farewell. Stepping outside the cafe, I watched the heavy rain fall from the clouds. It was raining just like that night many years ago, and just like that one memory I've shared with her.

If I could, I'd take her out on a date on the rain. Her hand in mine as we walk amidst the rainy curtains. Grace her with a rose and surprise her with a box of Swiss chocolates. She'd hum a tune, that's for sure, and we'd dance to it. Freely, like birds uncaged. Not a care in the world as it's just us. Just us two, living in the rain.

Closing my eyes, I allowed the rain to fall on my face in the night. No, no tears in the rain. A cleansing of my broken heart. To allow the pain to slowly wash away with the rain, leaving me nothing but an empty hollowness in my chest. It hurt. Hurt too much.

Yet, I also knew, knew that the pain will never really go away. No one would really ever forget the pain of losing someone once loved. I'd pretend to move on and act like it didn't happen before everyone else, just because it's what to be expected.

Rubbing at my cheeks, I gulped the heavy lump lodged in my throat and fought the burning sensations in my eyes.

'If I did anything right in my life, it was when I gave my heart to you.'

#gencyweek #gency week #gw5 day 4 #gency fic #gency au #hurt #some fluff #confident Mei best Mei

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thearkhound · 6 years ago

Text

Letters to the MSX

Letters to the MSX (MSXにお��る手紙/MSX ni okuru tegami) is an article that was published in the final issue of MSX-FAN magazine (dated August 1995), in which the publication sent out a questionnaire to various people within the video game, computing and consumer electronics industries (from companies such as Micro Cabin, Compile, Game Arts, Sony and Matsushita), asking them about their involvement with the MSX and their thoughts about the platform, which was being discontinued from the market after 12 years in the market.

Originally I only intended to translate Hideo Kojima’s answers to the questionnaire, but then I decided to do the whole article because not only does it bring a lot of insight to the MSX culture in Japan, but it also provides a picture of how the computer industry was back in the mid-90′s and where it was heading. This is why it took me a while to publish this translation (and why I have been inactive on Twitter for almost a month now), since it was not only quite a long article, but there’s also quite a bit of technical jargon and idioms that I wanted to make sure I would get right.

Anyway, I hope that you will enjoy it.

Introduction

We sent out this questionnaire to as many companies as possible who were involved with the MSX via fax or PC. We wanted to publish the thoughts of the people who were involved during that period. We do believe this will lead to our next step.

The contents of the questionnaires are as follows. Please read them fully and compare them.

The text has been printed the way it was sent to us, but editor’s notes have also been in parts that we believe might be too difficult for some readers to comprehend. The text after the red circle is written by the editorial department to introduce the developer who answered the questionnaire, followed by their answers to each question. If the answers to question 1 and 4 given by the person in the previous section, then “same as above” will written in its place.

MSX-FAN Final Questionnaire

Company’s name

Name and current department

Job(s) during the MSX era

Most notable MSX products by the company

Your most nostalgic MSX moment and why

Words you wish to impart to MSX-FAN readers

Bonus/ Secrets, inside stories or such you wish to share

Tokihiro Naito

We can’t help but feel from reading Mr. Naito’s comment that the MSX was a machine that everyone made good use of. With such powerful talents, his games have served as an inspiration to numerous players. Before long, people learn about the enjoyment of creating games just like Mr. Naito... We feel it’s quite a wonderful chain.

T&E Soft

Tokihiro Naito, Development Division

DD Club/Pattern Editor Programming and Manual Manuscript Creation, Undead Line/Game Design. Hydlide/Game Design and Direction, Hydlide 3/Main Programming, Rune Worth/Game and Direction. I feel there were more projects (I’ve worked on), but I don’t remember any of them.

3D Golf Simulation, Hydlide series, Laydock series, Daiva, Psy-O-Blade, Rune Worth, DD Club, T&E Disk Magazine, and more

Laydock/ The truth is that I want to talk about everything I’ve worked on, but this particular title left the most lasting impression. This had an unexpectedly short development time, meaning that it was released even before the new MSX hardware. However, the developing target was pretty unstable, and with the hardware and BIOS specifications changing everyday, it led to a difficult development period. The person in charge was all (^ ^;

The MSX was a very interesting job for me. The MSX was probably the first time I was introduced to the concept of a VDP at such an early stage. Since the MSX was also the first machine I’ve ever experienced the use of sprites with, it was personally very fun. Even though MSX-FAN might be gone now, I hope many people will still use the MSX as a starting machine for programming or for making CGI.

DD Club contained a tool called SPEN, which was not a product by the company. It was actually a hobby program I designed in my home for over two years. At any rate, the name stood for Special Pattern Editor for Naito. This program was given free of charge to T&E Soft as my dedication to them./During the development of Laydock, I received a new BIOS-ROM from ASCII almost everyday, but every time the BIOS was changed it would cause the game to stop running, and we had to cool out the prototype MSX2 computer with a paper fan while programming as soon as it was overheating./ The 800 kanji fonts for the MSX1 version of Hydlide III that were on a 7x8 pixel format were in fact created by me. Were they hard to read? I’m sorry if that was the case./ There are many more unrevealed inside stories, but... (Editor’s Note 1: We this much content, we can’t publish this letter without cutting off some parts. Hmm...) (Editor’s Note 2: Hmm, I wonder if the other editor has seen that one last sentence.) (^ ^;

Akira Misoda

In the MSX world there is Micro Cabin. Nothing else needs to be said. We are grateful to them for many things. We thank them for porting Princess Maker to the MSX. And in addition to providing software for our supplemental disks, we learned many things from Mr. Nakano as the lecturer for our Picture Story & Movie Classroom articles. Producer Misoda has made an effort to backup all the above. I don’t think the Princess Maker port would’ve happened without his influence.

Micro Cabin

Akira Misoda, 1st R&D Department

Producer & Programmer of Campaign Daisenryaku. Programmer of The Tower of Cabin. Producer of Princess Maker.

Fray, Xak, Xak II, Maison Ikkoku, Urusei Yatsura, Daisenryaku, Super Daisenryaku, Princess Maker, Illusion City, The Tower of Gazzel.

This doesn’t have anything to do with the MSX version specifically, but Xak was the first game I programmed desperately after I’ve joined the company. I gave the rough source code to Mr. Nakatsu when he joined the company to produce the MSX version, but I’m still impressed that such a difficult code to understand could be ported so well.

The MSX is a hardware that has raised many people. There are quite a few people at Micro Cabin who used to be MSX users before joining the company. With the proper knowhow, you could make games on the MSX without having to purchase any expensive add-on (compared to other platforms). In that sense, it’s such a great loss that another platform that has produced game-making geniuses (!?) is disappearing from the industry. I might be exaggerating a bit, but... I really feel that way.

I’ve worked on the MSX prior to joining Micro Cabin. I did around four outsourced jobs from three different companies, and two of them were for Micro Cabin.

Yasuhiko Nakatsu

Programmers are said to stay up all night, tend to run away and are all unusual men, but there is no one who makes good products that keeps his deadlines, sleeps on time, and provides gentle guidance to everyone. We at the editorial department asked for such a person to serve as our lecturer for our picture story show articles. We are grateful to Mr. Nakatsu for everything he did to us and we apologize for asking too much of him. We are truly sorry for that.

Same as above

Yasuhiko Nakatsu, 1st R&D Department

Planning, programming, writing

Same as above.

I have many fond memories of software that came out on the MSX. Among there was this software called Su**s Gri... Oops! I’ve almost mentioned something I shouldn’t. My bad. My bad. Personally, Illusion City was my most memorable game when it comes to the most hardships I have to endure.

Thank you for publishing my articles after such a long period. For those who are not good at programming at BASIC, please look up any back issues and try your best at creating a picture story. The MSX was a machine with many ways to enjoy oneself. I look forward to future activities with the platform.

I was the one responsible for raising the memory of the A1-GT to 512Kb. Thanks to that, the machine was able to play MIDI without the burden of access time. I’m truly grateful at everyone in Matsushita.

Hitoshi Suenaga

Rather than introduce the person, I thought it would be more fitting to introduce his projects. He’s a talented genius responsible for the character designs in Micro Cabin.

Same as above

Hitoshi Suenaga, 2nd R&D Department

Xak 1, Fray, Daisenryaku, Illusion City

Same as above

Xak 1, since it was the first MSX project I ever worked on after joining the company.

I am grateful to everyone who supported our work, as well as everyone answered the questionnaire. While it’s sad that the world will go on without the MSX, I will still use it for my hobbies and personal work. In fact the character units in the 3DO version of Konpeki no Kantai were drawn on my MSX computer and then converted to the console.

If you want to be honest, if ASCII had asked for my input, I would’ve balanced out the hardware specifications of the MSX turbo R a bit more and I think the platform would’ve been around a bit longer. When I learned about the MSX turbo R’s hardware specifications after unveiling conference, I began crying on my bed... I’m serious! The MSX2 was a serviceable upgrade from the MSX1, but after that...

Katsuya Nagai

Mr. Nagai made one MSX software after the other while in Micro Cabin thanks to his love for the MSX and the effort he made to program every day and night.

Same as above.

Katsuya Nagai, 1st R&D Department

Programmed the opening and ending of Xak I. Also made the fighting minigame in The Tower of Cabin.

Same as above.

I was involved with Xak I as soon as I’ve joined the company.

Even though we are no longer making MSX games, we hope you’ll still support Micro Cabin in the future.

The Fray vs. Pixie minigame from The Tower of Cabin was ported from the PC-9801 version and I got to draw the animation patterns of a special move that was planned for the game. However, not all the animation frames could fit into the game’s memory, so I ended up using the regular patterns instead.

Naoko Arakawa

When talking about the TAKERU software vending machines, there is Ms. Arakawa. She was always full of energy when we met her during events. She even worked together with our editorial staff on the Sorcerian port, which is a project that brings us deep memories. She also worked on Sorcerian Relay, which is included in this final issue. Since it’s just a relay race game featuring characters from Sorcerian created by the editorial staff, it might not be anything special, but... We would be grateful is she re-releases more classic MSX software via TAKERU.

Xing

Naoko Arakawa, TAKERU Executive Office (sales division G)

Sales promotion of MSX software for TAKERU

Sorcerian, BURAI Vol. 2, ect.

Thanks to the news announcement from MSX-FAN, our game reprinting project attracted attention from many users, which evolved into the TAKERU Meisaku Bunko (Masterpiece Library) series. We;re now re-releasing PC-9801 and X68000 games on TAKERU as well, becoming an important pillar of our service more than ever. I think it was all thanks to the planning of MSX-FAN and our MSX users.

I truly salute MSX users for their passion, enthusiasm and creative urge. While we gathered many games for our reprint series, there were still quite a few things that left a bit to be desired (like why we didn’t include games from a certain company or why we didn’t include a particular title). There were many games that did not come out on TAKERU due to various circumstances, so we apologize for that. From now on we’ll do our best to have software reach MSX users via TAKERU, even if it’s just a few game. Please support us.

I have strong memories of sneaking out to see the A-Bomb Dome while I was en route to the MSX Festival in Hiroshima. On another occasion, I was photographed by a professional for the first time when I was interviewed by Mr. Tokita and Mr. Sasaya. The photo looked like a portrait than any normal photo. It’s one of my most treasured possessions.

Akkii

Falcon is a company that undertook a substantial role in the porting of Sorcerian that MSX-FAN and TAKERU (Brother) helped produce. Their president, Ms. Midori Ito, while working for Yamaha to promote the MSX, unexpectedly ended up becoming a programmer herself and before long she ended up marrying Mr. Kazuhiko Ito, who was employed at Micro Cabin at the time. The two ended up forming their own software development company. Answering in this section is Mr. Moribe, who was the lead graphic designer.

Tierheit (aka Falcon)

Akkii, Planning & Development Department - Development Section 2

Pixel art, debugging, intermediary with TAKERU’s executive officer, and many other jobs

Sorcerian, Sengoku Sorcerian, Pyramid Sorcerian

All of it, of course. It was the first company I’ve joined and the first job I was employed at.

The ending of Sorcerian was very anti-climatic. I’m sorry about that. Of course, the MSX is a hardware that exists because of its users. Even if this magazine will no longer be in print, the MSX scene will remain active as long as there are users, especially when it comes graphic designing (personally). Good luck!

Well there’s something I want to say, but... Oh no!

Yoshihide

I often used to go to the MSX Fair. I used to work at Osaka, bu moved back to Tokyo along with my wife last year. I want to know if the secret title was Dragon Spirit or Valkyrie.

Namco

Yoshihide, Consumer Sales Department - Promotion Division

MSX software sales and PR activities (including planning). Since there weren’t that many people, I did a bit of everything.

Return of Ishtar, Xevious: Farland Saga, Pac-Mania, ect. We also did the Disk NG series too.

For Xevious, I remember doing a bit of everything ranging from joining in the planning, production, advertising, distribution, sales and public relations.

I wish good luck to everyone involved with the MSX at Namco (including our users).

There were many games that we announced, but didn’t get released. On one hand I think it’s regrettable, but on the other hand it’s a bit horrifying.

Masamitsu Niitani

It’s because of Disk Station magazine that the MSX became an interesting world. It’s because of them that we had the Puyo Puyo series and Carbunkle. With its low-price, the fun-packed Disk Station was a brilliant plan that managed to rejuvenate an industry that has hit a rut. It was always a pleasure to deal with President Niitani himself when calling the company, even if it was the middle of the night.

Compile

Masamitsu Niitani, President

Planner, Producer, Graphic Designer, Programmer

Guardic, Madō Monogatari, Nyanpi, Golvellius, Rune Master, Adventure of Randar, Disk Station

Disk Station

Let’s walk with the times

I want to talk to Mr. Nishii of ASCII about his thoughts on the MSX.

Yoichi Miyaji

The founders of Game Arts got their start as part-timers at ASCII back in the old days. Because of their talent, they quickly formed their own company, where they gave birth to Thexder. At any rate, we had a chance to seriously think about developing for the MSX with Mr. Miyaji.

Game Arts

Yoichi Miyaji, President

Producer

Thexder, Fire Hawk, the Gyuwamburaa Jikō Chūshinha series, the Sum series

The debugging of the MSX-BASIC rom was carried out back when the founders of Game Arts were employed at ASCII. I think the BASIC was made extremely well.

I treasured the MSX like it was my own child. I did my best with the belief that the MSX was a better hardware than the Famicom (NES). It’s been more than 10 years (ed’s note: 12 years precisely), the age of the Famicom is over now and it’s time to let the MSX go too. It’s truly been a long time.

Satoshi Uesaka

Mr. Uesaka was the one who originally created the card concentration game called Card Desu as soon as MSX-FAN started including supplemental disks on each issue. It had an edit function in hopes that it would lead to a series of edited works, but not many edited versions were made and the whole thing amounted to nothing.

Same as above.

Satoshi Uesaka, Section Chief of Development

Producer, Director, Programmer, Pixel Artist, Scripter... I did many things.

Same as above.

The Sum series ended with 14 games that were released in a span of a single year.

Never forget your dreams, even when they end. (plagiarized)

Kamiji

BIT2′s president Mr. Kuribayashi was observing various creative tools for the PC-9801 one day when said that he would make his own versions to surpass them on the MSX. So he ended up making the CGI tool Graphsaurus, the FM music tool Synthesaurus and the MIDI tool Midisaurus. Without these tools there would’ve been no CGI contest on MSX-FAN and no MIDI Sandogaza column. In Mr. Kuribayashi’s place, this questionnaire was answered by saleswoman Ms. Kamiji.

BIT²

Kamiji, Sales

Accounting

Graphsaurus, Synthesaurus, Famicle Parodic

When they started putting all their efforts into the Turbo R and GT was when the MSX started sinking.

We still wanted to make MSX software, but since not many people were buying them anymore, we had to discontinue them.

Toshikazu Awano

While persistently providing software for the MSX, he also provided his invaluable insights on the MSX during the MSX Symposium (see our June 1991 issue). It seems he got into this world from the records industry, but has since be transferred into KOEI’s U.S. subsidiary and is now busy selling English versions of the Nobugana’s Ambition series for consoles.

Koei

Toshikazu Awano, Koei Corporation (of America)

Head of Sales

Nobunaga’s Ambition, Romance of the Three Kingdoms

Nobunaga’s Ambition II came out when I’ve joined the company and since it sold pretty well, it left me with a strong impression.

Our company used to sell MSX soft until very late, but when we discontinued them, we suddenly receiving porting requests from MSX users. Many of them were specifically middle and high schoolers with a strong sense of appreciation.

Tatsuo Matsuda

As someone who greatly loves the MSX beyond all else, he aspired to turn it into a machine that gives everyone the opportunity to bloom their talents. That is, even if you’re not rich or you live in a rural area, you should be able to use the MSX to awaken your hidden talent by creating CGI and music or get the opportunity to express yourself.

ASCII

Tatsuo Matsuda, Multimedia Department Promotion Manager

Promotion for MSX Sales

MSX

We have shipped over 4 million home computers to young people around the world, including Japan.

I want you to become smart Japanese people with unique personalities who could work around the world.

There are still many people using the MSX around the world. The MSX should be classified as a computer, not a game console. I’m very pleased that many people have learned about computers from this platform and have found employment through it.

Hitoshi Suzuki

Everyone who was involved with MSX has called him a genius. Without his genius, perhaps MSX wouldn’t had gotten such a good BASIC program. Nevertheless, he’s a truly wonderful person with a sense of humor who made Basic-kun as a side-project

Same as above.

Hitoshi Suzuki, Director of Digital System Division and Silicon Software Development

Listener to Mr. Matsuda’s complaints and causing uproars at parties.

I haven’t really done that much (Ed’s Note: He did a lot. Many of the programming for tools and systems used by the MSX were done by him.)

Yukiko Okada’s suicide haunted me. (Ed’s Note: At the time of her death, she was appearing in the advertising of a certain company.)

Our youth is a brief moment that only shines once. The memories that have gone through all of us at a rapid-pace will shine within me forever. And on my deathbed, I will utter “Em...Ess...Ex” as my last words.

There’s a huge mouse in Osaka. (Ed’s Note:It seems that the three main proponents of the MSX platform (Mr. Yamashita, Mr. Matsuda, Mr. Suzuki) once went to a business trip in Osaka. Nobody truly knows what happened there, but it seems that Mr. Matsuda was nicknamed Mr. Mouse after a certain incident. Don’t tell anyone, you meanie!)

Shingo Tamura

Mr. Tamura joined Sony at the midst of the audioboom. He was responsible for the famed live recording machine Densuke. Afterward, he became involved with the MSX and was in charge of the PalmTop. Even though Mr. Tamura is the section chief with a scary reputation, he’s actually a romantic who likes the stars, nature and soba noodles. We thought about what Sony means as a company with stuff such as sending mail through the internet in this day. Is it linked to their merchandising? We also wanted to emphasize the MSX’s side as a cool PC.

Sony

Shingo Murata, Planning and Development of Merchandising

Sales Chief of Planning and Development of Hardware, Software and Peripherals

The HB-55 was the first HiTBiT promoted by Saeko Matsuda. The HB-F1 was a budget-priced MSX2 computer that retailed at 32,800 yen. The HB-F1XD is an MSX2 with a floppy disk drive that retailed at 54,800 yen. In terms of games, there was The Wiz, which was perhaps a famed Sony original.

There was a software called Igo Club that was an online go game, and a Kanji Video Titler. There was also a BASIC-learning kit aimed at an industrial-level (after applying for the correspondence education, you would be sent an MSX with a handbook).

Every middle schooler who got their start on the MSX dreamed differently from Famicom owners. They could learn how to program or how to make a software run to their own accord. They continued in their creative endeavors now, even now as adults. If they can have home terminals like that in the 21st century, I think we can once again stir up some creativity. As long as people have dreams, we’ll embark on new challenges.

We tried to make and sell all kinds of products. The hardware is a business that really ought to make use of the software. With that in mind, we couldn’t make the DC machine (Ed’s note:a portable device) because the resolution was a bit overly optimistic and there were too many constraints. I would like to thank my subordinates, editor-in-chief Ms. Kitane and her staff, and my good friends at Sakurakai (Ed’s note: a liaison between multiple MSX hardware manufacturers that gathered once in every month, where they would improve on the good points, reflect on the bad ones and collaborate with each other. It was last held in May ‘95), even if they would normally be suspected of bid-rigging. And of course, everyone at ASCII. It was thanks to the MSX that I had a bond we all of the above people. And what would become of Mr. Kurami, our MSX historian at Sony who served as our walking encyclopedia? Thanks!

Naoya Kurami

Mr. Kurami is a delicate perfect fit for Sony’s corporate image. Everytime he received a call from our editorial department, he always winced momentarily whenever it was some kind of difficult call... Despite that, he seems to have what appears to be a poster of Saeko-chan...

Same as above.

Naoya Kurami, Vice Director of Planning and Development of Merchandising

Planning and Promotion of hardware, software and peripherals

Same as above

I don’t know if it can be said that its directly MSX-related, but do you know the stock-trading computer HB-T600 or the online go software Igo Club? Either way, studying stocks and studying go was a painful experience. And considering all that, the results were not quite good.

Well, for better or worse I spent the last ten years of my life working on the MSX. With this information now out on an MSX-related magazine, I feel a bit embarrassed. By the way, I own a train poster of Ms. Seiko Matsuda (advertising for our HiTBiT computers) as a souvenir from the past. I thought about selling it for a high price... I would like to thank all of editors at MSX-FAN and all of its readers. It’s been such a long time.

Hideaki Yagami

We, at the editorial staff, get the impression that the people at Matsushita are very serious and diligent. Both, their hardware and software are designed with the need to bring enjoyment to their users without betraying their expectations. Only Matsushita machines are strong against instantaneous blackouts and their PACs (Pana Amusement Cartridges) might had been a manifestation of that mentality. Under such circumstances, Mr. Yagami (who is also skilled at skiing) was pretty good at gaining the trust of the software house (not just for the debugging meetings) and still is to this day.

Matsushita

Hideaki Yagami, Software Development Department of the Interactive Media Division

Development & Planning of Software at the Pana Amusement Production

The FS-5500F2 is famous for being the first MSX computer with 2 disk drives. The FS-A1 was a budget-pridced MSX2 that retailed 29,800 yen. The PACs were MSX cartridges containing S-RAM backup. Other products include the CF-XXX series, the FM-PAC, a Bowling System and an educational system aimed for Russia (that’s a secret)

The AshGuine series were a series of games starring the first character made by our company. We made the games all-night at the development site with the developers from the various companies involved to decide on the content of each game, their packaging and the posters.

When the MSX was brought to this world, a personal computer meant for the users something that could run the program they made, not just the packaged software they bought from a store. In today’s world, computers take many shape in order to support the needs of the world, but in spite of that it’s no longer easy to program by yourself, even if you own a PC. Even though PCs are becoming much closer to humans now, I can’t helped but feel a sense of nostalgia when the distance between them was more primitive, that is to say when a PC was just a programming tool. Back then the PC was the embodiment of a user’s dreams full of possibilities. It could be said that people who lived through the era when PCs were born are living witnesses of a valuable era that brought fruit to a trend of rapid creation and evolution. Keep those memories of freshness in mind and continue dreaming, seeking the possibilities of new challenges.

I wonder if there was any other unified effort between multiple home electronics manufacturers to promote a unified standard (MSX). MSX-FAN may have ended with this issue, but for the hardware manufacturers I think it was an era of everyone pursuing the dream of a single unified standard of PC. To all the companies that provided software, I’m truly grateful. I’m also grateful to Ms. Kitane and the rest of the editors of Tokuma for being there until the end. And finally, I would like to thank of all the MSX users who supported the platform.

Kazuaki Hiraga

Mr. Hiraga was suddenly put in charge of the MSX in a matter of months and became a familiar figure in ten years, leaving quite an impression. He has the personality you would expect. He plays Gekitotsu Pennant Race pretty well too. He also planned to lend out MSX computers to a culture festival. Thanks to that, he experienced a “ghost incident” in the Kanazawa Inn. At any rate, he held a mini-4WD competition to bring excitement to the event and played games with other users. In a sense, he was a familiar and energetic face to the MSX.

Same as above.

Kazuaki Hiraga, Software Development Department of the Interactive Media Division

As a member of the PAP, I’ve worked as a contact for various software providers and at the same time I was involved in the development of original software and peripherals (such as the PACs). I also planned and managed nationwide events. I was Pana Amusement Club member no. 0001! By the way, the Amusement Club began business around the time Vampire Killer came out

Same as above.

At the beginning many hardware manufacturers created MSX machines, but in the end it became a fateful confrontation between Matsushita and Sony. Right now our Panasonic-branded products are selling quite well, especially our TVs and videos, but our no. 1 product in Japan is the “A1″. This symbolizes the magnitude of expectations that Matsushita applies to its products.

Looking at the current software industry, there are quite a few people who joined the industry from the MSX, so I feel it’s a big deal. in that sense, I appreciate all those people who are still passionate about the MSX and I’m eagerly awaiting even more people to become experts in the field of software development.

Thanks to the MSX, I have a nice family (ed’s note: Mr. Hiraga met his wife when she was the host of an MSX event. They now have a child together). It was also fun to go through various events nationwide and talk to representatives of software houses and magazines. Everyone gave it their best during the 4WD races in particular. (ed’s note:Mr. Naito of T&E Soft is known for using a turbo mode technique that connected batteries in a serial format.) One of the packaging illustrators for the AshGuine series was the now-famous Teppei Sasakura (who at the time was an unknown). Looking at the prices of Mr. Sasakura’s works recently, I tried to look for the original painting, but it’s nowhere to be found. Ah!

Masao Ito

Mr. Ito is an obliging person who planned out products he thought of while working on Matsushita’s hardware designs. If things are any indication, we believe he made the FM-PAC by embracing a headfirst approach. Within the people at Matsushita who supported the MSX until the end, Mr. Ito has been patiently answering various questions from our editorial staff up until this final issue.

Same as above.

Masao Ito, Planning and Selling of Foreign Software for the Interactive Media Division (I’m making 3DO stuff now).

First I worked on hardware designs. But then I acted as a jack-of-all-trades, examining the MSX standards at the same time. At the the end, I was responsible for product planning, as well as in charge of designing domestic and overseas systems.

Same as above

In Russia, I almost got arrested by the Moscow police one time after spending several consecutive nights bowling there.

The MSX was a cost-effective platform. It was useful in various ways if you knew how to use it well. While the MSX’s days are numbered, its ideal still remains true. The concept will surely be revived in the future (don’t hesitate to ask in which form).

I did quite a lot of things, but for some reason I am still an unknown in this industry. The PAC and FM-PAC cartridges were possible thanks to me! By the way, I’m still waiting to receive my own PAC and FM-PAC from the company.

Yuya Iwakiri

Mr. Iwakiri is a gentleman who organized many MSX events that gave us the chance to gather everyone. He supported up us until the end.

Same as above.

Yuya Iwakiri, Public Relations Department Editorial Department

As a professional, I’m a latecomer to the MSX when I was employed in 1989. In my private life, the first MSX computer I touched was a so-called King Kong word processor, which was a unique experience. Because I came from an advertising background, I focused on the planning and organizing of MSX fairs, where I involved in the creations of catalogs and advertisement (thinking about it though, the job was rather lonely since MSX-FAN was practically the only MSX-focused media remaining by that point), as well as the promotion and advertising of word processors (such as the UI series and the SLALA model).

Same as above.

For me, it’s perhaps the FS-A1GT, which ended up becoming the last MSX machine ever produced. The slight hopes of everyone who had an affection for the MSX, such as Ms. Kitagane, whom I have a strong rapport with, and the various celebrities (in every sense of the word) from all sorts of software house starting with Mr. Tanaka (director general of Micro Cabin), were gathered thanks at the nationwide fairs thanks to this machine. Until the bitter end, there was hope for another model, hope for the uncertain future of the MSX... Even though I knew how it was going to end, I still couldn’t help but feel a sense of bitterness when it was over. It was like falling in love with someone you were forbidden to, like a feudal lord and a peasant or Romeo & Juliet...I thought about why I was given a job during such a moment.

There’s always one way or another to do things because of the mischief of the age. I don’t want to ponder any “what ifs”, “perhaps” and “if only”, but just like life, I still wonder if the MSX could ever return to the starting line... I’m sure everyone involved with the MSX is thinking this as well. In this age in which Microsoft is now threatening IBM’s grasp of the PC market, it would wonderful to imagine the MSX engine from Japan taking over the world.

My kids (ages 6 and 4) play all sorts of gaming platforms. The Game Boy, the Super Famicom and the 3DO. But they really like MSX games over everything else. Perhaps they inherited my preference and nostalgia for MSX games... DNA is quite a scary thing. Anyway, I’m truly grateful to all the MSX fans around the world! Until we’ll meet again.

Masayuki Takeuchi

“Study hard and play hard” is a saying that suits this person. That’s because studying and playing are truly above-average.

Same as above.

Masayuki Takeuchi, Interactive Media Division Software Development Department Promotion and Planning Section

Planning for advertising and sales promotion.

Same as above

Before PCs became widespread, we put out the first MSX word processor with a built-in printer, which was a pretty successful product. Another product we put out was the A1, a budget-priced MSX2 computer sold at 29,800 yen. In order to promote the A1 at the time, we did several publicity campaigns such as a truck that traveled all over the country and the advertising character AshGuine. They were pretty memorable ad campaigns.

I'm sorry that it’s over. However, I’m truly grateful that people still appreciate the MSX to this day.

There was a golf game from Hudson that was pretty popular where you could switch between a professional and amateur mode. There was also a shooting game called Zanac, in which I made a bet with another employee named S-kun, who offered me a yen for each point I made. He owes me 2.4 million.

Taro Sugimoto

Even though Panasonic has officially ceased advertising their MSX computers in our magazine, they continue to publish advertisement for their U1 word processors. Perhaps they did out of obligation, but I feel they cherish their users more than that. Some members of their MSX development team has since moved on to the 3DO, but they still demonstrate their power even in their word processors. Because my nickname among my seniors was also “Taro”, I would often ignore people calling me out during MSX events if they didn’t attach my surname.

Same as above.

Taro Sugimoto, I.T. Division Commercial Affairs

I was doing promotion and advertisement under Takeuchi, Iwakiri and Hiraga, all whom I’ve received regards individually. In particular I was in charge of the MSX game events that were held once in every season. Since I was employed by the sales and promotion department, I never got around to making my own product, but I did write a utility book for an A1 peripheral. As a freshman employee at the time, it was my first experience with a PC, so it was extremely memorable.

Same as above.

The above-mentioned event. While I still organize events nowadays, the MSX Festival was the basis for everything. I used to travel all around the country, ate various delicacies and became acquainted with various representatives of software publishers, including Ms. Kitane, all whom have become valuable assets to me. I still treasured the t-shirt and sweatshirt that were produced for those events.

I’m currently in charge of advertising and managing promotion for our word processors and MSX-FAN could help us out by published our ads in each issue... I think. I’m sorry.

While organizing an event in Osaka, there was lack of manpower, so I helped out while wearing a sweatshirt. I was already in my second year within the company and I ran into a college acquaintance at the venue and he asked me “you’re still working as a part-timer.” Anyway, please support our word processors.

Hideo Kojima

When one hears the name Konami, a mountain of memories pop up. Konami has been releasing software vigorously since the beginning of the MSX’s lifespan and they always had an amazing quality to them. We have wonderful memories of games such as the fun Antarctic Adventure and Space Manbow, which turned out to be a good game despite constant delays thanks to the commitment of the developers. It seems that Konami carries the philosophy during development that one has to observe games that are hits or duds, and understand why they sell or not. As a result, Konami has created the most splendid games in the world. In such circumstances, Mr. Kojima created a new kind of game with a scenario for the PC market that wouldn’t had been possible in an arcade environment.

Konami

Hideo Kojima, Development Section 5

Planning, writing, direction, and a few character designs

For Kojima: Metal Gear, Snatcher, Solid Snake. For Konami in general: the Nemesis series, the Knightmare trilogy, Yie-Ar Kung-Fu, Space Manbow, Penguin Adventure, The Goonies, and many more.

My most memorable project was the original Metal Gear. Back then I was a rookie who didn’t know to distinguish between his right and his left, so I didn’t know how to make a game at the time. I didn’t even know how to get assistance from people. I had no credibility as a planner (since my previous game proposal got rejected). I think it was pretty reckless of me to create a new type of game. I had nothing but enthusiasm to drive me.

With the MSX, there was a sense of “learning together” and “living together.” In particular, I was full of feelings that I shared with players during my youth. My game development career was never in the limelight, so I don’t know how much the sincere opinions of all my players have encouraged and supported me. Even now I’m still encouraged by the correspondences of players from those days. I think there’s some sort of coexistence that goes beyond the framework between a receiver and a sender.

Each year new talent enter the game industry. Among them are many people that choose this path by being inspired by the MSX. At the very the least they inherited a burning passion for the MSX. The users (receivers) and developers (senders) will always remember the “sensation” of that time. If they have “pride”, then I��m sure the game industry will move towards a good direction.

#MSX-FAN #Hideo_Kojima #Konami #MSX #Micro_Cabin #Game_Arts #T&E_Soft #Namco

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parsleybabe · 6 years ago

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Home Made Simple S01E03 - Chicken Party

We’re starting off with the exact same team as on episode 2: Host Lady, Chef Guy, Deco Guy and Wood guy. The episode centers around Caprisha, who just bought a house and is turning forty and wants to invite her friends to the party at her new place. Her bff is also there to help. Basically, they’re going to focus on the woman’s garden and turn it into a party location. I’m really bad with names, but I’ll keep referring to Caprisha by her name, because they say that name soooooo often in this episode and make songs and puns about it that I actually managed to remember.

My personal highlights:

We’re starting out with Deco Guy introducing a yellow color theme and Chef Guy deciding to make the party lemon themed, as there is a lemon tree in the backyard. I’m genuinely worried that Host Lady is going to lose her shit over the yellowness again, based on what we’ve seen from her previously, but she remains surprisingly calm.

Wood Guy suggests they could build a pergola and explains to the audience what that is with pictures and descriptions. I don’t know, maybe they just aren’t as common in the US? But for a brief moment I’m worried they might start explaining other basic building structures like garages or front doors or whatnot as well. Fortunately they don’t. But they do explain the pergola twice in the episode, because Caprisha and her bff also don’t know what it is, and the renovators have to fill them in as well. Anyway. Everybody is totally into the idea of building such a thing, except for Host Lady. Because, “A pergola is an enormous project.” No, no no no. No! “That’s too much!” So they say they’re scratching the idea, although it looks super fake.

I don’t really get what the big deal is, in the first place, because pergolas are very easy to build and it won’t take up a lot of time either, you just need to screw some wood pieces together and anchor them in the ground, for example by using iron bars. Definitely not more of a hassle than the storage benches from episode 2, but what do I know?

Chef Guy is extraordinarily camp in this episode, which, don’t get me wrong, is totally fine. It just takes me by surprise because I had to actually check if he’s the same Chef Guy as in the previous episodes, that’s how differently his personality comes across. Maybe it’s just the girl party theme of the episode that he’s feeling, though.

Anyway, they’re emptying lemons to use them as party food containers for granita later. Ooooh, I spot a Dawn Power Clean cameo while Caprisha is rinsing out the lemons. It’s like spotting the Stan Lee of home renovation. It’s a bit funny tbh, because Caprisha’s at the sink but her hands and the lemons are out of frame, instead you get the soap dead center and placed strategically right under her arm, so you can read the brand name without obstructions. I don’t even care anymore, I’m just glad they didn’t use the soap to rinse out the lemons.

Next, they’re standing in the dog run of Caprisha’s garden and it’s surrounded by high, smooth grey walls with barbwire on top. To be honest, it looks like a mix of a prison and a chicken coop. If I were doing anything to that backyard, I’d take the barbed wire down and paint the walls a different color. Instead, they’re talking about building a lounge inside it. Alright, you could do that too, I guess.

Deco Guy and the bff are now working on party invitations. The plan is to put the invitation inside a music CD, then put that in a fancy orange gift box, wrap it as a present and hand it out as an invitation. It’s actually a neat little gimmick, but quite expensive and time consuming just for an invitation, if you ask me, depending on how many friends you have. You could say, it’d be easier to build a pergola, but maybe that’s just me.

So, Deco Guy shows a simple invitation that he printed out from the show’s homepage, and… yeah, simple indeed. It’s literally a square with the most basic party info written inside. Like, in the most basic font, Arial or something, just black print on yellow paper. You could type that up in word quicker than searching for it on their website, but okay… Then he shows her how to cut out the paper, how to put it into the CD case and that into the box and how to wrap a ribbon around the box and make “a nice little bow”. All very important steps that you don’t wanna miss, or you’re not gonna be able to do this on your own. Hmm, he states that the invitation costs “literally pennies” and I am left to wonder how they managed to get the ten to twenty gift boxes and CDs for free.

Okay, now Wood Guy and the bff stand inside the “prison” part of the garden and are gonna build the lounge seating area. Cool, cool, cool. They got a lot of same sized wooden bars and are screwing them together to form squares. They stand the squares up and place them side by side in a row to later put a large sheet of wood on top to form a bench. Easy, simple concept. I actually do like it, but I can already tell that that base is going to be too high to sit on the lounge comfortably. Your feet won’t be able to reach the floor. Should have made rectangles to keep the benches lower, but maybe that was too complicated? They’re using an electric screw driver to put in the screws and you can totally see the wood break all the way through to the end of the bar, both when the bff and Wood Guy are doing it. It’s neither addressed nor fixed though. I guess the whole thing isn’t meant to last anyway, because they also don’t put any varnish on the construction, even though it’s meant for outside, so.

Meanwhile, Chef Guy shows Caprisha how to make some mousse for the party, and it’s an alright recipe too. It just cracks me up a little how Caprisha tries some and expresses, “It’s nice and light!” And Chef Guy totally jumps on the “light” aspect, even though the mousse is made of basically sugar, cornstarch and whipped cream.

We’re back in the garden and the benches are coming together. The seats are now at the hight of Wood Guy’s upper thigh without any cushions or padding yet. But I assume you could work around that. As I mentioned, it looks like a chicken scoop, so why not add some chicken ladders going up to the roost, right? They briefly show that they’re going to use more wood to make a backrest at an angle, and then we see the finished result, but we don’t get to see how they work around sharp edges or cracks. They also don’t mention that you should probably sand the wood so you won’t get any splinters. But I’m not an expert, so don’t listen to my layman’s opinion.

As a filling for the empty lemon cups, Chef Guy and Caprisha are preparing some the granita, which is basically frozen lemonade with sugar. I’m sensing a theme and it’s not the lemons. I wonder if there’s gonna be any non-sweet food at the party at all. Doesn’t look like it though. But it doesn’t matter, Chef Guy and Caprishado a little sexy victory dance in the kitchen, because freezing lemonade is hard and they deserve that. And then he gives her “the gift of cleaning”, which translates to filling up the dishwasher in front of a smartly placed bag of Cascade dishwater tabs, then gently taking a tab out and placing it into the slot before turning the machine on. Cameo #2. The gift that keeps on giving.

Back in the garden, Wood Guy and Deco guy are having a talk while sitting on the half-finished lounge and letting their feet dangle. I don’t wanna say that they look small on the too high bench, let’s say… youthful. But the truth is, they’re having a really deep conversation and heart to heart, because Wood Guy opens up about his love for pergolas and confesses that he can’t let go of the idea. Deco Guy is super supportive and they decide to tackle the obstacles. Have some respect for these men, for real though. Wood Guy admits, “I’ve never seen it done before.” And Deco Guy understands the pressure, “We’re going where no man has ever gone before.” And then they talk briefly about having to draw up the steps to build it because “it’s really simple.”

Now they gotta convince Host Lady. Instead of anchoring the wooden build in the ground they want to use deck pair footing inside plastic flower pots as floor weights. My idea would have been simpler, safer, cheaper and longer lasting, but I guess you could do that too. I still don’t know why they need the flower pots at all, but, on the plus side, Wood Guy drew little stick figures on his sketches so that Host Lady can understand what he’s talking about, and who cares about the flower pots anyway. She has to let them do it now, right? She does and Wood Guy gets “a gold star today.”

He actually deserves one, btw, because – for the first time ever on this show – we do actually see footage of him and the girls building the whole thing including all the steps he talked about before.

We’re back with Deco Guy, Caprisha and her bff inside the house. He’s teaching them how to sew straight lines to make a pillow. And that’s as complicated as it gets. He also shows them how to fix the fabric with pins and does it wrong (puts them in line with the sewing direction, which will get them stuck in either the sewing machine or your fingers, instead of pinning them sideways to the direction, so you can easily pull them out as you’re sewing). Fortunately, the two ladies don’t know how to sew and won’t even notice. And since they’re now “master sewers”, they get to sew a whole bunch of pillow cases overnight. Right before the party. Because why would the birthday girl need any sleep, am I right?

So, it’s the next day, and the pillows are done. Deco Guy is excited but criticizes the “fresh, out-of-the-fabric-store smell.“ Now, I don’t know where he bought the fabric, but all the fabric stores that I’ve ever been to smelled lovely. And new fabric usually doesn’t have any smell at all. Maybe that’s different where they are though, I assume. But, fear not, Deco Guy is a true hero because he brought some Febreze Fabric Refresher which will both freshen up the pillows and add to the ever growing family of product placements on this show. And, man, does it smell good. They all agree on that and we’re getting lots of footage of them spraying the pillows very elegantly with their new super weapon.

We’re now back in the kitchen with Chef Guy and Caprisha and he’s gonna show her how to make whipped cream out of cream and syrup, because clearly the other food they got doesn’t have enough sugar. They put it onto the previously made mousse and it looks like… chicken poop. Which started out as a joke on my end, but genuinely must be the unspoken theme of their party. I didn’t even plan this when I began writing this review. I genuinely edited the title just now.

Back out in the yard, Host Lady and Wood Guy are talking about building a fire pit in the center, and that sounds like a really cool idea, I have to admit. This is something that’s gonna last and will come in handy later whenever you wanna have a garden party. It’s great. However, instead of building a fire pit, they just drop sand and big pieces of gravel onto the floor and put an empty grill bowl on it, like a random makeshift beach bonfire. This is the most disappointed I have been so far on this show.

Host Lady then steps inside and suggests that she and Caprisha will decorate the inside of the house with lemons in case any guests come in and need to use the bathroom. The instructions are, “Make sure to have enough toilet paper, light some candles and hang out fresh hand towels.” I have no idea where the lemons actually come into play and they don’t show it either, we just see them step into another room and that’s it.

The final results of the “renovation” are now prepared and shown. Suddenly there are several big pink, yellow and orange tables and étageres standing around which serve as displays for the food. They are the biggest eye catcher in the whole garden. But all we got to see about how those came into play was in a brief overall work process montage (where amongst many other things Deco Guy was shown for about half a second, painting them). No idea if they built them themselves or bought them. It’s never addressed and they’re just there.

Host Lady goes to get the girls and loses her shit “bright yellow” style when she sees them. The pitch of her voice is higher than ever and she throws her hands up and screams, “You look gooooood , guuuurrrrlll!!!” and then puts her hands to her hips and screeches, “Woooooooooooooow!!!” , except it sounds more like a police siren. I mean, it’s a nice compliment. A bit super over the top and super loud, but… nice, I guess. Maybe they couldn’t take the barbed wire down because it belongs to the neighbors who put it up in fear of the weird Host Lady.

Anyway, back to the final look of the garden. The lounge benches are now painted, no idea when that happened, and they now have padding and cushions and pillows and are even higher than before. Sadly, no chicken ladders though. But Caprisha and her bff won’t have to use the bench anyway, because they get a couple of swinging chairs as a gift for under the pergola (which they need to remove for the party, but can keep afterwards). Yaaaaay!

#home made simple #no gender bias worth mentioning in this episode #wow

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heatpressmachineguide1 · 6 years ago

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Custom T-Shirts – Plan And Design Your Own!

Even though t shirts are easy to find, and you can get many existing designs, there’s something incredibly appealing about getting your own shirt made. You can get these made in a physical store or purchase them online.

Quick Navigation

Planning a Custom T Shirt Design

Choosing a Color Scheme

Finalizing the Design

Creating a Digital Image

How to Transfer Your Design

Using a Screen Printer

Using a Stencil

Finding Custom T Shirts Without Really Trying

Enjoying Your New Custom T Shirts

Of course, you could go the full customization route and design your own custom t shirt from the ground up. Whether you want to do this as a hobby or plan to turn it into a small business, you should know how to design t shirts. It won’t take long to become an expert.

Planning a Custom T Shirt Design

What exactly do you want to do with your custom t shirt? It could be a really cool new design to show off, or some kind of symbol to promote a brand that you’re working with. Whatever it is, the purpose behind the design should motivate the design itself.

If you’re advertising anything from a professional background, the point of the image should be to highlight the logo. Go for something simple but effective when you’re trying to push a product. If you’re promoting a sports team, ensure that you include the team’s colors when you create the shirt. If it’s for a music group, try to incorporate the style of music or the image of the band itself.

You could also start with a photo and work from there. Make sure to use a photo that you won’t have to credit to anyone else. If it specifically came from a stock photo with explicit free-use instructions, this is fine.

Choosing a Color Scheme

Contrast is one of the biggest things to consider when making a custom t shirt. You’ll need to think about how certain ink colors will blend with each other when going with lights vs. darks. There are some kinds of ink that will appear to stand out more than used on an actual shirt as compared to what they look like on a digital screen.

When working with lighter shirts, stay away from light blues and pinks, as well as anything with yellow. They’ll stand out on a shirt, but you won’t be able to tell what they say from a distance. If you need a shirt with a logo, you need that logo to be visible from as far away as possible.

If you go with pastel colors, throw in an outline of a darker color to make the text jump out. It will make the entire shirt easier to read.

A dark-colored shirt will look amazing when you use lighter ink. You do need to be careful, though, when using dark on dark. Shirts that are colored maroon, dark green, or dark blue can distort any ink when you go to print them.

Anyone that uses Adobe Illustrator will find that the Global Colors settings will help out a lot.

Finalizing the Design

Next, you can add dimensions into your existing design. After you have finished work on the coloring aspect, you might find that it still doesn’t “pop” enough. To give your shirt a bit more depth, you can add colors that are the same shade as what can be seen beneath it. This way, you can brighten your image and add to the dimensions.

Making a vector outline inside your software is a great way to resize anything in your design that you might need. If you’re using software that has a lot of customization options, like Gimp or Paint Shop Pro, you can start with an image and manipulate it however you like. The possibilities for t shirt choices are endless.

Get some balance throughout your design by combining all the parts into a whole. This might sound unnecessary, but you need to work with your image to give it some clarity. You might have a lot of smaller elements that need to be organized into a bigger canvas.

Make sure that everything comes together evenly on the t shirt. If the whole image is balanced, it will draw more attention to what you’re trying to convey.

As you finalize the design, figure out where it should be placed on the shirt. Do you want to center it, or create an image that ends up wrapping around? For a more professional display, something simple and in the middle tends to be the most effective. Don’t forget about the back of the shirt as a supplemental spot, too.

Creating a Digital Image

Once you have your design worked out, you can take what you’ve made on paper and feed it into your computer. Use a scanner or camera to transfer your sketches into your imaging program, where you can clean up any uneven lines. You can make adjustments with filters, brightness, and saturation if you need to.

Throw in some lines and splatter effects before you get any further. Ensure that the whole layout is consistent by keeping all of your measurements and proportions at an effective level.

If something isn’t working for you, you can create more sketches from scratch inside your imaging program. Add color inside your tablet if you want to take the image with you to work on the go. You never know when inspiration might strike you, especially if you notice a color scheme while you’re out walking or on the train.

When working with fonts, you need to complement the design and not take away from it. Using the wrong type of font can completely take a viewer out of the image and ruin the entire concept. Use any filters you have on the font as well as the image and check to see that your layers are properly applied inside Photoshop.

You can find tons of fonts on different websites. Many are free as long as you aren’t using them in a commercial property like a film or video recording. If you’re an expert in design, you might even consider making a new font from the bottom up. It’s hard to argue against the effectiveness of an original font to bring in awareness.

How to Transfer Your Design

You have several options for how to move your image from printer to an actual t shirt. Obviously, you want to start by having a blank t shirt for printing. From here, your supplies will depend on how you want to print your image.

Using a Screen Printer

For this method, you’ll need access to a printing screen. You can easily find these on Amazon or at your local art supplies store. You’ll be mixing emulsion and sensitizer together with this method, so make sure you are comfortable with different kinds of chemicals.

Once you have created the image and put it into a transparency, you can burn the entire image into the shirt. You’ll need a powerful bulb for this, around 500 watts. This can be done in about 15 minutes.

You can then rinse the screen under a thin layer of water for a couple minutes. Tape off the edges of the underside and get your screen-printing ink ready. Once you’re done with the application, you can cure the ink with a hairdryer.

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Using a Stencil

When stenciling, you’ll need contact paper. Tape the paper to the peeling side to keep the design visible throughout the process. Use the sharpest possible knife to cut out any black parts on the design, and peel off the sticky side from the contact paper. Now, you can slide a piece of cardboard inside the shirt.

With a sponge brush, you can apply the fabric paint. Don’t out the spots anywhere that the contact paper hasn’t been cut and let it dry. Once you peel off the contact paper, your stencil work will be complete.

Finding Custom T Shirts Without Really Trying

If you aren’t especially artistic, you don’t have to worry. Plenty of online merchants sell custom t shirts directly to customers. In fact, you might find some people who have the same ideas as you for designs even if you can’t make them yourself.

Look into Etsy or Redbubble to find designs that you would like to wear for yourself. If you’re looking for a new design for a business, you might consider commissioning a new logo through someone whose art you admire. Be sure to show courtesy when asking about a potential job, as artists can get busy fairly quickly.

Enjoying Your New Custom T Shirts

All that’s left for you to do is proudly display your new creation. If you’re promoting a band or a new product, wear the shirt wherever you can to raise the visibility. Scan your design and hashtag it on Instagram or Twitter to see how far you can get the message out.

It only takes one person to notice your custom t shirts before they become popular. You never know exactly who could be looking, so give it your best shot when designing your logo or image. You might even have someone ask how they can buy the exact same shirt.

The post Custom T-Shirts – Plan And Design Your Own! appeared first on Heat Press Machine Reviews.

from Heat Press Machine Reviews https://heatpressmachineguide.com/custom-t-shirts/

2 notes · View notes

generativeartwillcurran · 3 years ago

Text

Final Adjustments

Feedback in class led me to believe that the overall raw aesthetic choices had more or less done their jobs. Although, some members of the audience argued that it was missing some aesthetic entry point for the user. Specifically, one person claimed that a separation in print-outs might help the user understand the cause-and-effect relationship between pressing the keyboard and watching the executing code scroll by on the left-hand side. I decided not to implement this specific suggestion, since I thought it was pretty clear what was going on, but I agreed with the concept behind it, that it was hard to latch the eyes to something.

Another audience member suggested adding an element of color corresponding to the notes being played by the computer. I liked the idea of adding color, as long as it didn’t take away from the “rawness” of the experience.

So, I decided to make a play on code context highlighting, as in a usual IDE like Visual Studio Code, which I use. This element provides a visual separation of lines with color that intrigues, but does not sugar-coat the experience. I hope that programmers will chuckle at the nod to code context highlighting. Additionally, all viewers will have to process more visual information, which I hope will make the experience more immersive.

Typical python context highlighting plugins use a magenta-like color for control/structural code such as the if-statement, and they use light blue for constant values, etc. I adopted the same principles when highlighting my print outs.

I also added a color mapping on MIDI notes. I used this hippy-dippy article (https://www.flutopedia.com/sound_color.htm) to look at different sound to color mappings, and I personally enjoyed the Scriabin Correspondence the most. I recognize that these mappings are unscientific, which is usually not my thing, but it is a mapping that sort of makes sense, and that will do to stoke the curiosity of the user. After all, a more “scientific” way of mapping color to sound also mentioned in the article, where you try to map the frequency of light to the frequency of sound, frankly does not make much sense to me.

The font choice here is intentionally a bit jarring and retro. Its discontinuous flow when using a thin letter like ‘l’ is desirable because it is a more rudimentary font that an old terminal might use. When imagining the design process of the font, I think that it was intentionally made to have simple rules and to be very lightweight for computers to handle. I also find it harder to read than more modern-looking fonts, which I think is good because it gives people more to decipher.

The structure of the two side-by-side terminals is such that the right hand side prints out nicely when playing the notes. Otherwise, the right hand side prints lots of messy fast-scrolling text when doing computation, and the left hand side is scrunched and harder to read. I think that’s ok because it is intended to be more of a raw look at the machine code in those cases. Only when viewing the final output should it be in the most viewable form. This mirrors computer operators’ experience in computing history, so I think that’s a good sign that I’m making the right tactical choice here.

#wg

0 notes

myforeverforlife · 7 years ago

Text

Room No.7

The regular college study areas have become a source of discomfort, and you end up looking for a place where no one will recognize you. When you come across an infamous “DVD room”, you find more than you bargained for.

Inspired by the movie “Room No.7″.

Word Count: 6,092

Masterlist

It wasn’t that you didn’t have anywhere to study. In fact, the opposite was true: your university had an excess of study areas for students. Your problem was that in each of these study spaces, you ended up running into someone you knew from your dreaded general education class. You and ART 201 (Intro to Art Appreciation) hadn’t always had such a rocky relationship. You didn’t even hate the class, it was the students that were starting to bug you.

On the day of your first exam, you and your classmates had discovered that your professor’s study guide materials were completely different from the actual test questions. Since you sat in the front row, it was painfully easy for the students around you to see your answers, and to then pass them on to the rest of the class. You didn’t have a problem with them copying you, in the end the exams only made up a small fraction of your total grade. As long as you did well on your projects and presentations without anyone copying you, you were fine.

However, you didn’t expect that after that day, the rest of the class would depend on you for answers to all of their questions.

“Y/N, did he say that they used paper-mache or clay?”

“You know, I’m not sure — ”

“Y/N! Do you think this is right?”

“#3 is false, not true. It’s contrapposto, not cross-hatching.”

“Y/N!”

At first, you tried to at least be polite despite the constant pestering. But as the semester passed, you found yourself losing your temper more, speaking to others in a clipped voice and practically running in the other direction whenever you spotted a classmate.

You took to looking for a cozy study area off campus, riding your bike through the streets in search of coffee shops or PC rooms. However, you didn’t spend much time at either of these places either. Coffee shops became too noisy at times, even with your earbuds in, and PC rooms gave you a headache with the constant brightness of the computer screens in your face.

As you rode through the streets on your bike, backpack and smoothie cup in your bike basket, you were constantly scanning the storefronts for the safe haven you were looking for.

The area you were in was less populated than where you lived, with only a couple of people walking here and there. The stores seemed just as calm, storekeepers inside finding some small tasks to keep them busy until customers came.

You were getting closer to a tall building, the signs outside indicating there were multiple shops inside. Your bike came to a screeching halt as you stopped, foot landing on the floor to balance yourself as you looked up at one of the signs.

The sign at the bottom caught your attention, “Hollywood DVD Room” printed upon it.

“DVD Room?” you read aloud, brow raising in interest. You had never been in one before, but you had heard about them from your roommate. You paid to watch a movie, and you would get to watch in a room by yourself. Your roommate also told you that these places were also known for being secret getaways for couples and their romantic endeavors, which was the main reason why you hadn’t been interested in going to one. The idea of sitting in a room where someone had been having sex wasn’t the most appealing to you.

But judging by the lack of traffic in this area, you hoped that the DVD room was just as quiet. Hopping back on your bike, you rode on in search of a bike rack, pulling out your lock and securing it in place once you found one. You took your backpack out of the basket, swinging it over one shoulder while you held onto your smoothie with your other hand. As you walked back to the building, you groaned inwardly. The sign said that the store was on the 3rd floor, and all you could see was a set of stairs, no elevator in sight.

Sighing to yourself, you opened the door, ready to climb up three flights of stairs for some peace and quiet. Unexpectedly, you found yourself in awe as you ascended the steps. The walls were adorned in old fashioned movie posters, Hollywood lights decorating some of them. You moved closer to one, examining the faded paint of the poster. For some reason, this made the building seem more charming to you, and you found yourself smiling before continuing on.

When you finally reached the third floor, you heard the sounds of music, a chord repeating over and over until they stopped, only to start up again but with a slight change in notes. The door to the DVD room was labeled, phone number and store hours painted on the door’s window. But the door itself wasn’t traditional: instead of having a doorknob or a lock, it was simply meant to be pushed open. It was pretty much a wooden swinging door, and you could see the light of the store inside seeping out from the cracks between the door and the walls.

You quietly made your way up the last couple of steps, moving to press the door open with your shoulder.

“Hello?” you called out, voice timid.

You were met by the sight of stacks upon stacks of DVDs, and caught sight of a small table in the back corner of the room. Your gaze traveled over to the far left, only to see a man seating behind a counter, turning around from his laptop to look at you. He tapped a key on his laptop quickly as he swung around in his chair, and the music you had heard earlier stopped immediately. You felt a breath hitch in your throat as you caught his eye, freezing in place.

His eyes were adorably round, a stark contrast to the block-like eyebrows above them and the all-black outfit he wore. A nametag rested on his hoodie, the name “Do Kyungsoo” written on it in plain font. His lips were his most striking feature, plush lips set in an unreadable expression.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice deep but quiet.

You cleared your throat, walking forward so you were inside the room. As the door swung shut behind you, you took tentative steps towards the counter. “How much is it for a movie?”

“$15 for a new movie, $10 for everything else.”

“Can I watch more than one?”

The man raised an eyebrow, and you saw him examine you briefly before he answered. “Are you bringing someone else?”

“No, it’s just me. I might be planning on staying here for a while, though.”

He nodded to himself, before looking away and focusing on his laptop once more. “Go ahead. We’re only taking cash right now, our machine broke down.”

“Thank you,” you murmured before heading over to one of the shelves aimlessly. Since you were here to study instead of actually watching a movie, you were planning on picking a movie that wasn’t too distracting. You settled on a documentary about pandas, giggling to yourself at the cute pair on the DVD cover as you took it back to the store worker.

“I’ll have this one, please.” You handed it over to him along with your money, his curious expression not escaping your notice.

Despite his obvious interest, he got up wordlessly, putting it in one of the DVD players. As he turned around, you caught a glimpse of a marking on his neck, near his ear. It seemed to be a tattoo, script written in a language you couldn’t understand. Before you could stare at it further, he turned around, sitting back down in his chair. “You’re in Room 3,” he told you.

“Thank you.” You gave him a small smile, more comfortable now that you had gotten the hard part over and done with. Now all you had to worry about was getting your work done.

He didn’t return the smile, giving you a small nod instead before looking down at his desk, rummaging among various papers.

Room 3 was small, but a good fit for a single customer. You laid your bag on the floor, smoothie on the small table and settled down onto the couch provided. The movie was still rolling through the beginning credits, and you reasoned that watching the movie for 10 minutes couldn’t hurt.

Ten minutes soon turned to thirty, and then an hour. You startled upright as you realized the movie was almost over, checking your phone and groaning when you realized it was already 3. If you wanted to get home before it was too dark, you would have to leave by 5.

You pulled out your laptop and textbook, making a pointed effort to ignore the TV and instead do what you actually came here to do.

Once you got to the first body paragraph of one of your essays, you noticed that the movie had ended, music signaling the end credits. You got up, opening your room’s door silently as you headed back to the counter.

The man was still there, although this time he had headphones on, staring at his laptop screen intently until he noticed you coming closer. He pulled his headphones back, looking up at you. “Done already?” he asked.

“Do you have any movies that are only music? Like, instrumental music?”

Judging by the look on his face, you guessed that this was probably the most unusual request he had ever gotten in his time working there. In order to seem less strange, you tried to explain yourself.

“I’m studying, but I don’t want a movie that’s too noisy that it’ll end up distracting me.” You bit down on your lip, hoping that this was explanation enough. Lots of people studied with background noise, it’s not like you were any different.

His eyes glanced to your lips for a second before looking away quickly, clearing his throat and taking off his headphones altogether. “We might have some documentaries like that,” he said lowly, getting up and walking over to the shelves.

You watched as he rummaged through them expertly, hands floating over the DVD cases until he found what he was looking for. “Are you okay with a documentary on forests?”

“Yes!” Mundane and calming enough to keep you entertained, but not distracted while studying. “That’ll be great, actually.”

He nodded to himself as he came back, switching out your old DVD for the new. As you gave him your $10, you noticed how not much had changed since you entered the room in the first place. “Has anyone else come in?” you asked, genuinely curious.

To your surprise, Kyungsoo’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as he found it hard to make eye-contact. “No. We’ve been pretty slow.”

“Oh.” You guessed that you hit a sensitive nerve, and took that as your cue to leave. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in a couple hours,” you joked lightly, hoping to ease his discomfort.

Luckily, it seemed to work, as he watched you leave with a tiny smile on his face, the first you had seen since you came in. Emboldened by this breakthrough, you started on your homework again with more focus than ever. You made it through most of your essay, typing away furiously to the music and sounds of rushing water and birdcalls.

When that movie was over, you gathered up your belongings, packing everything back into your bag and throwing your now empty smoothie cup in the small trash can. You had spent so much time in that room, that at this point, you were eager to go back outside and get some sunlight.

This time, the man was busy cleaning down the counter with a washcloth when you came out.

“Thank you,” you greeted him as you passed by, giving him a parting smile.

“Have a good night,” he returned, hand pausing its movements as he watched you leave, the door swinging after you.

Once he was sure you were gone, he headed to Room 3, only to find that you had done a pretty good job at cleaning up after yourself. Most customers were messy about their belongings, leaving wrappers on the floor. He was still obligated to spray and wipe down the room according to work rules, but he was grateful that you had taken the effort to clean up.

As he wiped down the couch, he thought back to your movie choices. “Documentaries,” he mused to himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone came to watch a documentary. Everyone who came watched either the latest movies, or famous classics. Even more unique was the fact that you had specifically requested movies with instrumental music.

Kyungsoo liked listening to music while he worked too, velvety voices weaving among rich compositions. As a composer himself, he was always on the search for interesting and appealing sounds to include in his music. If only his work would get some recognition...

Last week, he had sent out demo CDs to various companies, hoping that he would get some response. None had come yet, but his roommates had told him not to give up hope.

“Someone will call you back,” his fellow composer, Chanyeol had told him. “Your music is amazing, Kyungsoo.”

“He’s right,” Minseok had called out from where he sat. “They’d be dumb not to call you.”

But dumb they were, since no one had reached out to contact Kyungsoo. It was getting harder, being rejected time after time with no success. He already felt worn down by the threat of loans hanging over him. He couldn’t even afford to pay for college, having to drop out after a year. Now he was barely able to pay rent.

This job wasn’t helping either. Working part-time in a DVD room with barely any customers was draining him. His boss was having financial troubles too, and hadn’t even been able to pay him for the past couple of weeks.

At that moment, the bell above the main door rung out, the familiar footsteps of Kyungsoo’s boss echoing in the empty space. “Part-timer?” he called out.

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo called out, giving the couch one last swipe before getting up and entering the hallway.

“Anyone here?”

“No, the last person left already.”

“Good. Go on and head home, I’ll close up.” Kyungsoo’s boss headed to the counter, opening up a drawer and looking through the contents.

Kyungsoo closed the door to Room 3 behind him before heading to the back to throw the washcloth in the laundry basket. When he returned to the front, he was sure to pack everything he brought in his backpack. He had once made the mistake of leaving a charger in the store, and the next day it was gone, taken by a customer while he was out.

“Good night,” he said, backpack safely on his shoulders as his boss barely gave him a parting glance.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Your roommate was shocked, to say the least when you told her that you went to a DVD room.

“How was it? Was it noisy?”

“No, the opposite, actually. I think I was the only customer.”

“Really? Makes sense, since most people are streaming online now. Did you get a lot of stuff done?”

“I’m almost done with my essay!” you sang out, laying down on your bed with a sigh of relief.

“Damn, maybe I should try studying there too,” she joked.

“What study? You never study,” you teased back, giggling in delight when she threw a pillow at you.

“Shut up,” she laughed out. “I do study, you just never see.” She reached for her phone, charging a couple of feet away. You caught sight of a tattoo on her shoulder, a small bird she had told you she had gotten in memory of her grandmother. Seeing the tattoo made you think of the man, Kyungsoo, who had the unusual tattoo on his neck.

“The worker at the store had this cool tattoo on his neck. It was like, some European language or something,” you told her.

“DVD room workers are sketchy,” she replied, wrinkling her nose as she scanned through social media sites. “Half the time, they’re dropouts. The other half, they’re drug addicts.”

Her words made you feel uncomfortable, toes squirming and stomach churning at these basic stereotypes. “I don’t know, he seemed nice enough to me.” True, he hadn’t been extremely talkative, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He had been kind enough to you while you were there.

“That’s good, at least,” she told you, still focused on her phone. “Is that your new study spot, then?”

You looked up at the ceiling, the plain emptiness of it staring back down at you.

“Maybe.”

“Hello!”

Kyungsoo looked up, head turning to see you enter. It had been a week since you first came, and if he was being honest, he had been hoping that you would return.

“Hello,” he greeted you back. “More documentaries?”

You gave a soft laugh, eyes crinkling at his small joke. Kyungsoo had been looking forward to seeing your smiles again too, a corner of his lips lifting in response to your own smile. “Yeah. I’ve got to finish a project, and this is the only place I’ve found where I actually get some peace and quiet,” you told him.

“What kind of project is it? If you don’t mind me asking,” he tacked on quickly, hoping he wasn’t being too intrusive.

You came closer, hands resting on the counter as you faced him. “It’s for one of my art classes, I have to fill up a sketchbook by the end of the semester.”

“How’s it going so far?”

“Pretty good, I have four weeks left to complete it. Hopefully, my hands don’t fall off by the end of it.”

He snorted, covering his nose with his hand after you spoke. “I’m sorry,” he added, teeth peeking through his fingers along with his grin.

“No, it’s fine! I’m glad you thought it was funny,” you reassured him.

He brought his hand down, smile now in full view. To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You had thought his lips were pretty before, but now after seeing his smile full-on, you could feel the flutters in your stomach more strongly than ever. Giving a small cough to distract yourself, you glanced behind you the shelf of documentaries. “Do you have any recommendations today?”

“Mmm,” he hummed to himself in thought. “There’s one on the Hawaiian islands that I remember being pretty good.”

You backed away from the counter, determination in your step. “Hawaiian islands, it is.” It was pretty easy for you to find the DVD, since the documentaries only took up half of the total bookshelf. The two of you carried out the same transaction as yesterday, although this time you both felt more relaxed around each other.

“Room 3?” you asked, remembering where you had been last time.

“Yep. See you later,” said Kyungsoo, almost the same words you had said to him last week.

You nodded in agreement, giving him a small wave before heading to the room. Once you were inside, you slumped down on the couch, back resting against the wooden wall. Not only had you found a reliable study place, but you had also gotten closer to the extremely attractive man. You smiled to yourself, toes wiggling as you remembered how his lips had shaped themselves into a sweet smile, looking so soft and kissable.

Wait, what?

Your own hand went to your lips, your body going rigid in shock at the sudden thought that had ran through your mind. A simple smile from him and already you were fantasizing about kissing him.

“Get a grip, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. You shook your shoulders back before straightening up, taking off your backpack so that you could distract yourself with work. Hopefully by focusing on your sketches, you would be able to sort through your feelings for Kyungsoo.

Unfortunately for you, Kyungsoo was present even in your sketchbook. Your professor had told you to fill up your book with any sketches you liked, so you had absolute creative freedom for this certain assignment. Your hand started off by drawing an eye, a basic shape flowing from your pencil onto the paper. As you continued to shade, you realized with a startle that the eye you were drawing looked suspiciously similar to Kyungsoo’s.

You groaned, deciding to leave that sketch alone for now and moving onto an empty section on the page. A full upper lip appeared, with a lower lip just as full to match it. Lip creases and various shadows followed before you gasped. Kyungsoo’s lips. They stared up at you from the page, very obviously his heart-shaped, plush lips.

This was going to be a long two hours.

The documentary ended, and you had managed to sucessfully complete three pages of your sketchbook. You were proud of yourself for finally being able to take your mind off of Kyungsoo, although it hadn’t been easy. You had to eventually draw from the documentary for reference, palm trees and sea creatures scattered throughout your sketchbook.

You wished you could stay longer, but your wallet was starting to feel the effects of your movie outings. In between buying art supplies, food and now these movie rentals, your already meager college money was now in danger of being used up before the end of the semester.

As you got up, you sent a quick text to your roommate to let her know you’d be coming home soon.

When you entered the main room of the building again, you were surprised to find a different man behind the counter. Compared to Kyungsoo, this man was older, middle-aged with wrinkles beginning to form on his face. He looked up as you came closer, thanking you for coming and hastily saying goodbye. Judging by the way this man was very clearly trying to get you to leave, you decided not to ask about Kyungsoo.

Your feet carried you out the door, the man’s watchful gaze making you feel uneasy. You got the feeling that if you stayed inside a moment longer, he would be pestering you to either rent a movie or leave. With a defeated sigh, you trudged down the stairs.

Until next time.

“Welcome,” said Kyungsoo as he heard the familiar ring of the bell above the door. He didn’t bother to check who it was, uninterested since he figured it wouldn’t be you. If his boss was there, Kyungsoo would have immediately gotten a scolding for failing to be a “gracious host”. Luckily for him, his boss had said he would be out until 10.

You hadn’t been there for a couple of weeks, and Kyungsoo was starting to get anxious. His boss had come in earlier than usual and told Kyungsoo to go home early the last day that he saw you. He had left with a reluctant heart, hoping that you would come back out before he left, but in the end he had ended up leaving before you.

He continued to fidget with the pen in his hand, papers in front of him as he went over a composition he and Chanyeol were working on.

“That looks pretty complicated.”

His head shot up, only to see you standing before him on the other side of the oh so familiar counter, grinning at him sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

“You’re back,” he blurted out, face heating up once he realized what he had just said. “I mean, I didn’t see you around here for a while. I was starting to wonder where you were.”

“Yeah, I caught a pretty bad cold and basically stayed at the dorm unless I had class. I missed coming here though.” And coming to see you.

“The store was less quiet without you. You’re the most loyal customer we’ve had in a while.”

You looked away, a faint blush beginning to stain your cheeks and Kyungsoo found himself at a loss for words. If you thought you had been constantly thinking of Kyungsoo and his lips, he had been thinking about you and your beaming smiles just as often.

“I actually came today to ask for a favor,” you mumbled, looking in his direction but unable to meet his eyes for fear of rejection.

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows raised, curiosity piquing his interest. “What is it?”

“Will you let me do a drawing of you? I have one more page left in my sketchbook, and I’ve already done sketches of basically everything else. You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you hastily backtracked.

“It’s fine. I’m happy to help you out.”

His response gave you the courage to face him again, lips turning up at the corners as you saw him waiting for you patiently, heart-shaped lips mirroring your own in a smile.

“Really? Thank you, so much. Umm...” you scanned the room for a place to set up your materials. You caught sight of the small table behind you, pointing at it with a finger. “Do you mind if I sketch you here?”

“Sure.” Kyungsoo got up calmly, pace measured and steady despite the fluttering nerves in his chest. He took a seat in one of the flimsy plastic chairs there, and you took a seat across from him in a chair of your own.

As you took out your materials and set them up, you could feel Kyungsoo watching you intently. “Feel free to do any pose you like, I’m not picky,” you joked lightly.

He hummed in agreement, hands coming up to rest on top of the table. His fingers twined together, and he gave a small cough, trying to shake off the nerves. Despite you often being on his mind, he was still shy about being in such close proximity with you.

Finally, with pencil and sketchbook in hand, you looked up to see him staring straight at you, face blank. Upon closer glance, you could detect something else in his eye: excitement? Could Kyungsoo be just as giddy about being next to you as you were about him?

“Perfect,” you whispered to yourself, jumping right into your drawing.

The only sounds in the room were of the wall clock, ticking away the seconds and the scratching of your pencil on paper. Occasionally, you had to reach for your favorite eraser, getting rid of a line you had overdrawn or a lightening up a shadow that you had made too dark.

You began to worry that Kyungsoo’s body was getting too stiff from sitting still for so long. When you asked him if he needed a break, however, he had simply shaken his head, telling you that he was fine.

It wasn’t a lie; Kyungsoo was truly fine. In fact, he was more than fine. Watching you immerse yourself in your work was entrancing, almost addicting. The way you would sneak glances at him before working away furiously at your sketchbook intrigued Kyungsoo. He thought of something Junmyeon, his old friend from high school had once told him.

“People who truly love what they’re doing are always the brightest. They’re so caught up in their passions that nothing else matters. Seeing someone throw all of themself into their work inspires me to find something that makes me feel the same.”

At the time, Kyungsoo had brushed it off as another one of Junmyeon’s flowery speeches. His friend was known for spontaneously dropping pep talks on anyone and everyone who was close enough to listen. But now, seeing you like this made him realize how right Junmyeon had been.

“How long have you been drawing?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

You hummed in thought, the sound sweet to Kyungsoo’s ears before answering. “Almost four years? I started in my second year of high school because a friend recommended it, and I fell in love.”

Fell in love.

Kyungsoo was starting to think he had fallen in love too. If his friends saw him like this, they would tease him relentlessly until the end of time. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had a crush before, he’d had his fair share of innocent crushes in the past.

But with you, Kyungsoo felt himself falling deeper and deeper every moment he was with you. It was scary, but also thrilling to experience. It was the first time he had ever felt anything remotely like this in his life.

“Are you a music student?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I saw your music sheets earlier,” you explained.

“Amateur composer,” he replied. “I work on them with my roommate. We’re still working on getting recognition though.”

“Can I listen to them someday?”

Someday.

“Sure. They might not be that great, we’re still in the beginning stages of this project,” he admitted.

“I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” you reassured him, glancing up from your sketchbook briefly to shoot him a warm smile.

“Are you an art student, Miss...” His voice trailed off as both of you realized you had never introduced yourselves.

“Y/N,” you jumped in. “I can’t believe I never told you. I’m Y/N, a second year art student,” you told him.

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself. A thrill ran through you at the way your name rolled off of his tongue, like he had been saying it for years. “I’m Kyungsoo,” he replied.

“I know.” Sensing his surprise, you pointed to his nametag with your pencil, stifling a giggle. “I saw it on your nametag the first day I was here.”

His eyes were drawn to it too, the old nametag long forgotten. “I’ve been wearing this for so long, I guess I forgot I was even wearing it,” he said with a chuckle.

“That’s happened to me too,” you confided in him.

Soon you were telling him about the time you walked out of the restaurant you used to work at with your apron still on, making it halfway home before realizing you were still wearing it.

It was easy to talk to Kyungsoo, not only because you discovered that you two were the same age, but also because you two were similar in personality.

Both of you preferred a cozy night at home rather than out on the streets, and were both introverted in general. Kyungsoo confided in you that he was supposed to be in college, but had some difficulties and was now pursuing his dream of creating music through a different path.

“If someone out there likes it, hopefully I can get more experience working with actual people who have years of working in this industry under their belt.”

“I hope everything works out well for you,” you told him. Your voice wasn’t laced with pity, something Kyungsoo had gotten used to when people found out he was a “college dropout”. You were genuinely interested in his career, and hoped for only the best for him.

“Alright, I’m done! Do you want to see it?” You looked at him with eyes alight, unable to contain your excitement.

Kyungsoo nodded, just as eager as you were.

You turned your sketchpad around, revealing a stunningly accurate depiction of Kyungsoo. He held in a breath as he examined every detail, from the rounded shape of his eyes, sharp lines of his eyebrows all the way down to the beaming smile on his lips. During your time together, Kyungsoo’s pose had gone from the passive, close-lipped smile to a more natural, cheerful one as the two of you talked.

“It’s amazing,” he breathed out, unable to look away. “You have a talent, Y/N.” You set it down, bashfulness settling in at the compliments. “Thanks. It wasn’t only me, I’m glad I had such a great model.”

He shook his head empatically, making eye contact with you. “This was all you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered once more, unable to stop yourself from leaning forward. If you felt something for him before, it was nothing compared to what you felt now after getting to know more about him. Not only was Kyungsoo polite and good-looking, but he was also silly, kind and hardworking. You could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper for him.

Across from you, Kyungsoo copied your movements, leaning in closer until there were only a couple of inches in between you. His eyes flickered down to your lips before coming back up to meet your own, tongue coming out to wet his lips briefly.

You could feel your heart rate pick up as you moved closer, lids closing as Kyungsoo did the same.

The two of you met, lips coming together gently, both of you too nervous to make any further moves. You found the courage to press closer, urging him carefully. To your relief, Kyungsoo responded, kissing you back. He reached up with one hand, fingertips brushing against your cheek. You shivered at the touch, when he pulled away, to your dismay.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice hushed.

“Yeah, I just... I can’t believe this is happening.” You cringed inwardly. So cheesy.

Surprisingly, Kyungsoo gave a low chuckle, hand reaching back up to caress your face with the pad of his thumb, rubbing slow circles into it. “I know.”

You leaned into his touch, not missing the proud smile he wore as you did so. You could feel it too, the way both of you were falling simultaneously for each other. It was a scary feeling, knowing that you were slowly opening up to another person. Having someone feel the same way about you made the feeling less terrifying, and more exciting instead. This wasn’t a one-sided crush like you had believed it was in the beginning. Kyungsoo was just as enamored with you as you were with him.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” he murmured softly, voice hushed.

“Right now? Won’t you get in trouble?”

Kyungsoo shook his head, hand falling to hold onto yours before he got up, carefully pulling you along with him as he walked over to a shelf of new movies. “There’s no one here, and we’ve got the whole shop to ourselves. Do you want to pick?”

The two of you fought playfully over movies, whines spilling from you when Kyungsoo picked a horror movie, and him trying to persuade you to pick anything other than a Disney movie. “My roommate’s been obsessed with Disney recently. If I watch another one, I think I might lose my mind,” he had told you.

“Okay,” you replied between giggles, melting Kyungsoo’s heart and distracting him momentarily from Chanyeol and his latest Zootopia obsession.

“How about this?” You chose a classic drama, one you had never seen before.

“Looks interesting.” Kyungsoo reached out for the DVD, but you backed away, taking the disc out of its case as you went to put it in the DVD player.

“I want to do it once,” you told him, opening up the DVD player while Kyungsoo stood watching you, shaking his head with a grin.

He waited until you came back, your hand entwining with his once more as you walked down the hallway together.

“Room 3?” he asked, hand over the doorknob.

“Yep.”

“This is practically your room now,” he said as he sat down on the couch.

You took the seat beside him, arm wrapping around his as you watched him, the way the light from the TV screen reflected off of his face and cast colorful shadows there. “You mean our room,” you corrected.

He turned to look at you, smiling when he saw how the TV light shone on your face as well. “Our room,” he repeated.

It wasn’t exactly love yet for either one of you, but you could tell that both of you were getting closer and closer to it. And you were fine with it, this heart-fluttering, unknown territory the two of you had stumbled into.

Because you weren’t navigating this alone.

You pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, lips curling upwards when he gave an appreciative hum. Resting your head on his shoulder, you turned your attention back to the screen, opening credits flooding it.

Sitting here among the various stories waiting to be told through the movies, was yours and Kyungsoo’s, just barely beginning.

Just waiting to be told.

#exo #kyungsoo #kyungsoo scenario #kyungsoo fanfic #do scenario #do fanfic #writings

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