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enjennie · 4 years ago

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Bottom’s Up

synopsis: the dreamies during a night of drinking somehow end up talking about their exes, revealing the different types of relationships and exes they have or had.

a/n: this has been long been in my drafts so Jisung was still a minor here, thus I didn’t give him any drinks lmao. Enjoy! btw, I’m still deciding if I should make Haechan’s backstory for this, or if the markHyuck one should do…

[10:37]

The boys have arrived, piling into Chenle’s condominium that was set up just to have their long awaited guys night. They planned this weeks prior, promising each other that after their finals they’d set aside time to drink away their thoughts and release any stress they have that built up.

By 10:50 bottles have been popped and cups have been poured, the boys sat in the balcony to feel the cool air of the city night.

“You guys really aren’t sharing?” Jisung watches as the older boys raise their glasses in celebration.

“You wait a few more months, sir,” Mark sets his glass down and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. Guy nights wouldn’t be complete without Jisung, even if he wasn’t allowed to drink yet. He never minded sitting in the living room, playing with Chenle’s console with Jaemin and then later on laughing at his older friends’ shenanigans once the alcohol hit them.

Renjun isn’t quite the drinker, but Haechan made him a bet and unfortunately, he lost. Being an art major wasn’t easy, he knew he had a few more things to finish before his semester ended but with that, Renjun drank to forget.

Besides his plates, he had nothing else to worry about. He’d been getting emails from companies waiting for him to graduate, a family happy to support him, but surprisingly, the boy lacked in the love department.

His previous relationships, only being flings and one night stands, none of them really ever stayed after the cuddles. Except… a particular someone.

On the opposite side of him sat Jeno, who was watching his friends in amusement. Now, Jeno has a high alcohol tolerance. Although he becomes chatty, and starts to excessively clean his surroundings, he takes care of his friends well. Usually he’s the one who tucks them into bed or prevents anything like drunk driving and some other stupid shit to happen.

Jeno the architectural major was the responsible friend in a night out. The single friend who starts playing the guitar to set the mood when 2am rolls in. And, the single friend with the broken heart, which hasn’t quite mended yet even after three years.

Haechan on the other hand, is a messy drunk but handles his alcohol well until the 2nd bottle. The boy has a lot going on in his mind, and was the first to initiate the plan to drink.

His phone rings, but Haechan dismisses it, tapping the red decline button and watching as the screen faded into black. Mark follows his eyes and hesitantly brings it up.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Haechan only shakes his head before taking another swig. Everyone knows well enough about Haechan and his girlfriend’s on and off relationship. They break up, make up, fight and the cycle repeats.

Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he asks another question. “Why don’t you just break up? Y’know… for good?”

The boys around them seem to have noticed the tension that built up and had their eyes fixed on the pair.

“I don’t know, man,” Haechan is too drunk to think about Mark’s question. Too drunk to realize how Mark completely sold himself off to be in love with him with that one question. It wasn’t a big secret, especially since Mark has done a poor job in hiding it, but apparently not bad enough for Haechan to see. Everyone knew, except for the clueless boy.

Jaemin was too busy babysitting Chenle, who was having his first drink tonight, to even have shots of his own. He didn’t like drinking, anyway, and used Chenle as an excuse to keep sober.

Jaemin the medical student naturally tells his friends to lay off the alcohol, as it can damage their liver. He can only do so much though, as the others tend to be hard-headed and stubborn.

“I can handle myself!” Chenle protests, reaching for his glass which Jaemin took away. “You’re supposed to drink, eat a lot then drink again,” Jaemin explains. “You’ve only taken drinks so far, you’ll be knocked out in an hour if you keep this up,” He tells Chenle.

Of course, Jaemin knew his way around drinking. He just didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the bitter taste of it. Didn’t like how it made him think of his past either. Jaemin’s cup remains half full, and he uses this tactic to not get refills.

It keeps him away from his phone, sober enough to know better than to drunk text her. Even if her presence was all he yearned for at a night like this.

Jaemin x Reader – By My Side

[COMING SOON]

[12:03]

As the night gets deeper, so do the conversations between the close friends. Just like Jaemin predicted, Chenle had his head down on the table already, passed out.

“Jeno, you know what to do,” Jaemin nodded his head, signaling the boy beside him. Jeno gave him his smile, which now looked more drowsy and silly because of his tipsy state.

Jeno lifts Chenle easily, with Jaemin assisting him, leaving the three boys on the table.

“I want ____. Where is she?” Chenle had his eyes closed, mumbling to his friends. Jaemin and Jeno exchanged looks and laughed at the younger.

Poor boy, had a ton of expectations to meet he couldn’t even date around.

Chenle’s main priority had to be his family, and their business. He couldn’t afford any distractions, but to him, she was more than that. She was his driving force, and it hurt the boy to be keeping her a secret. Only the boys knew about his secret relationship, if word got out that Zhong Chenle the son of the most well-respected corporate business owner was dating, it would be the entirety of Shanghai talking about it.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to show the world and tell everyone who he’s in love with, he knew she wasn’t ready to face it all and step into that kind of light yet.

Chenle x Reader – In The Limelight

While the two boys took Chenle into his room, it left the three boys and Haechan’s buzzing phone out in the cold night air that the terrace provided.

“What happened this time?” Renjun asks, in line with the phone that’s close to annoying the hell out of him if it doesn’t stop vibrating the entire table. Haechan had his head down, and he lets out a laugh. Humorless, just cold.

“I don’t get her. She wants me, then the next second she doesn’t,”

When the boy lifts his head, it’s made obvious of all the pain he’s been hiding. His eyes, teary and sullen. Renjun couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s face, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter. “Aw, c’mon man! It’s only 12am,”

This, however, doesn’t humor Mark the same way. Seeing Haechan in pain was like a bullet through his heart. He gave the boy a pat on the back and watches as his head fall once again. Mark swears he saw a tear fall too.

“I’m not just an object you can set aside, then use when needed,” Haechan continues to wail. Although he was already drunk, Mark felt that Haechan’s words were the most sober when he wasn’t.

As for Mark, the literature major didn’t care much about alcohol. However, it did get his creative juices flowing. Most of Mark’s best written pieces were done when he couldn’t even remember writing them.

During blurry nights intoxicated in alcohol, Mark’s thoughts flow easily through him and onto the sheets of paper that lie around his room. Sometimes, he’ll drink on a school night to get an essay finished for it’s due date the next day.

But seeing as he had no pending things to write, Mark drank for the sake of trying to numb himself somehow. Although it didn’t work well when the person he’s trying to get his mind off of is sat right beside him, thinking of someone else.

Mark x Haechan – Always, I’ll Care

[COMING SOON]

[1:13 am]

When Jaemin and Jeno came back, Jeno was already carrying a guitar. He strums it softly to a random tune he came up with on the spot. Haechan, of course, was singing along. Throwing in words like ‘baby’ and murmuring a few words about love. By now, Renjun’s cheeks were pink and a few hiccups had already escaped him.

“Do you remember that girl Jeno dated second semester of senior year?” he says, out of the blue.

The boys need not ask who, as they all knew who Renjun was referring to. The group of boys burst into fits of laughter and the guitar takes an abrupt stop as its player shoots his friends a nasty look for bringing up his past unprovoked.

“You were smitten, bro,” Mark smacks Jeno’s shoulder as he giggles.

Jeno daggers his eyes to Renjun, who has his head thrown back, laughing.

“How about you, huh? What was her name? _____-“ Jeno begins his avengement by mentioning the name he knew would get back at Renjun. He gets cut off shortly.

“I’ll stop you right there, sir,” Renjun places a hand over Jeno’s mouth before he could speak the name.

“C’mon, how many years has that been though?” Jeno asks after getting the boy’s hand off of his mouth.

“Two, and what about it?” Renjun defensively counters, surprising the other boys.

“He knows! Wow, do you keep count?” Jaemin chuckles, amusement all over his face.

“Shut up, ____ ,” Renjun points a finger at the male, mentioning the name of Jaemin’s past lover. Jaemin’s jaw drops and he crosses his arms,

“That was low,” The corner of his lips tugged into a smile nonetheless.

“C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re releasing bad omens talking about our exes,” Haechan tugs on Renjun to sit him back down.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve only had one ex and she’s your girlfriend,” Renjun huffs. No one dared to speak the name of Renjun’s ex around him aside from people who have balls like Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan and Mark.

It wasn’t because he was bitter about her. But try as he might, there was a feeling within him that says she’s the one. Or she was. And Renjun was stuck, thinking about all the what if’s. Even after 2 years.

Renjun x Reader – To Be So Lonely [COMING SOON]

“I see things are getting heated over here,” Jisung stood by the door to the balcony now, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Ah right, let’s talk about mister lover boy over here,” Jeno motioned to the younger boy, who surprisingly is the only one to have a love life at the moment.

Jisung was courting the student body president. He could not, however, get her to answer him, but the boy never gives up.

“You must have some balls to hit on your senior,” Jaemin comments. The student body president was in fact two years older than Jisung, but the boy was determined.

Jisung x Reader – Like A Fool

[COMING SOON]

“At least one of us is progressing in terms of love,” Renjun sighed.

“Jeno’s doing well though, isn’t he? Lots of girls always after him,” Jisung gestures to the male beside him who’d started playing the guitar once again.

“I don’t think that counts as doing well,” Jeno mutters, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah? And how does having half the school pine over you not count as doing well?” Jaemin lightly nudges his friend.

“Because the one I love, is in someone else’s arms right now,”

And cue the exaggerated crying and wailing of his friends, who’d given him sympathetic pats on the back.

Jeno x Reader – We Find Love

[COMING SOON]

“Oh, man,” grumbled Haechan, clearly already very intoxicated. He placed his head between his hands to try and stop his world from spinning. “I got to go to her, I have to say sorry,”

The boys all averted their eyes to the boy who looks to be having his spiritual awakening.

Mark’s heart dropped upon hearing Haechan’s words. He looked down at his hands and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Haechan had a sudden realization and wanted to be in his girlfriend’s arms right then and there.

It usually happened when he was smashed drunk, after the 7th or 8th cup. Asking his mates to take him home and running into the arms of his girl.

Mark didn’t know why he wasn’t used to it at this point. It isn’t and never will be him.

“No way,” Jaemin tutted. “You gathered us all here to drink and bothered us for weeks then you’ll flake midway? I don’t think so,” The other boys agreed.

Renjun stretched his arms and fell back onto the chair he sat on. “What’s with the sudden change of atmosphere anyway? It’s like we did release bad omens when we spoke about our exes,”

“You just had to bring ____ up!” Jeno threw a fry at his friend, who was the first to mention his ex and start the discussion. Renjun caught the fry in his mouth, surprising the boys and himself.

“Let’s just drink up,” Renjun raises his glass in the air, although it’s half empty.

“Nice try, here have a refill. We’re all taking equal shots,” Mark had risen and was now reaching for the bottle of beer to pour his friend’s glass.

“To… I don’t know- fuck! To getting fucked up!” Haechan yelled, raising his glass in the air.

The rest of the boys do the same, clinking glasses together and downing it mercilessly to their livers.

Relationships come and go, but the dreamies are always here to stay.

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mhdiaries · 4 years ago

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Diary of Catty Noir

It would be very unlucky for you if you read my diary.

August-13th-CURRENT MOOD-WHINY

I wanted to go to the maul today but I remembered I had a press conference. Well, my iCoffin remembered for me. I would have just as soon forgotten it. I really don’t like press conferences very much. I can’t really have a “bad day” when the cameras are on me, because I know it will be all over the internet gossip sites before the presser is even over. Of course that happens when I’m having a good day, too. Okay, gotta stop writing and get out my lucky press conference shoes. Since I’ve been wearing them I haven’t made any gossip worthy mistakes. I wonder how many more times I can wear them before the luck runs out? Gotta go.

The luck of the shoes held out! In fact, they held out so well and in such a big way, I might retire them. We lost power to the press conference. No lights-no camera-no action. It was eerie epic.

Back to my whine - So, most of my frustration with the gossip sites - yes, I’m moving on from the press conferences - is that I’m just a ghoul who likes to perform and sing, that sometimes I’m cranky when I don’t get enough sleep - okay, all the time when I don’t get enough sleep - ,that sometimes I get crushes on boys, that I dress the way I do not because I want to draw a crowd but because I like the styles I wear. Of course I can’t ever say any of this publicly, or the monster press will call me “spoiled”, “shallow”, “aloof” or “difficult”. I remember when this used to be fun. Yes, I know, millions of ghouls would love to trade places with me, and when I’m on stage I do forget everything except the fans and the music, and I’m sure that tomorrow I’ll feel completely different... or not. I can’t decide right now... *sigh*... what’s wrong with me? Blah - I need a nap.

September-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXCITED

Lucky me! Just go my finalized concert schedule, and it looks like I’ll be closing out the year by doing shows in Londoom, Scaris, Boolin, Weresaw and Barceluna! My manager thinks they’ll all be sold out shows. Hopefully, I’ll get to do some fright seeing, too. I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Terror lit up at night and take a tour through the Terror of Londoom. I won’t get my hopes up though, because my schedule is usually packed tight. Oh well, at least I’m getting the chance to go and meet some new creepy cool fans.

October-13th-CURRENT MOOD-CAUTIOUS

I started thinking last night about how many shows I’ve done since I started performing, but it’s pretty unlucky to count certain things, so I stopped. It’s a lot though. I was in my first talent show when I was only seven. I don’t remember all the details as well as my parents do, but I have no trouble remembering the crowd at the little theatre jumping to their feet and cheering when I was done. Even then it made all my fur stand on end. Still does. I definitely remember when I was twelve and the limoscream pulled up into our driveway to take us to the finals of the national show where I got runner-up; well, it’s all been a blur since then. Lately, though, I’ve been wishing I could have a “normal” unlife, whatever that means...

I was living in the shadows,

A creature of the night,

Afraid that if you knew me

You’d be paralyzed with fright

But the moment that you saw me

You smiled and didn’t run,

Took my hand and gently pulled me

From the shadows to the sun.

Chorus

I’ve only wished forever

To find a friend like you,

Someone to look within the monster

And see a heart that’s true.

Now places that I used to haunt

Are so very far away,

And I’m never going back to them

‘Cause you’ve shown me it’s okay

To live life in the open

Where everyone can see,

‘Cause the thing that I was hiding

Is the thing that makes me me.

Chorus

I’ve only wished forever

To find a friend like you,

Someone to look within the monster

And see a heart that’s true.

To see a heart that’s true

December-13th-CURRENT MOOD-FRUSTRATED

I’ve completely lost my voice. The doctor said that I have “vocal exhaustion” and we’ve had to cancel the concert in Barceluna. I could actually feel my voice going in Weresaw during the second encore, and I should have chosen something a little easier on my throat, but because the energy from the crowd was so clawsome and because they were chanting “MCR-MCR-MCR”, I sang it. I feel terrible about Barceluna, but nothing that reading the news couldn’t make worse. There’s a report from an “unnamed source” saying I canceled the concert because the concert promoter wouldn’t paint my dressing room in my lucky color. I have a lot of superstitions, but none of them involve the color of my dressing room. To make matters worse, I’m not supposed to talk at all so my vocal cords can rest up. Right, I wouldn’t mind giving the whole music business a rest. When did it stop being fun and turn into work?

January-13th-CURRENT MOOD-NOSTALGIC

For the first time in the past six months I got to sleep in my own bed last night. It was really nice, and I felt like the luckiest ghoul in the world to be surrounded by all those little things I used to take for granted but that make home special. Things like the squeaky door to my bedroom that I would never let my dad fix because it was my “intruder alert”, or the soft yellow quilt my grandmother made for my seventh birthday; the one I cried about when she gave it to me because I thought that yellow was my unlucky color, but now the quilt is one of my favorite things in the whole world. Or how the thirteenth slat on the blind that covers my street facing window is bent just enough so that the light from one of the streetlamps comes through at just the right angle for me to lie in bed and make shadow puppets on the wall. I think most of all I just like that it’s quiet, because on the road it never is.

March-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXCITED

Last night I have a small surprise concert... Well, not surprise, I guess, since we’d been leaving clues to where it would be online. Anyway, a group of ghouls from Monster High came backstage after the concert, and I know they thought they were hanging out with me, but I think it was the other way around. I can’t explain it, but I really felt a kinship there. One of them was a clawsome surfer ghoul named Lagoona Blue. She told me that she wished I could come and play at Monster High, and I told her if she had any extra lying around that I wouldn’t mind having that wish come true :). We exchanged emails, and as I watched the ghouls leave, part of me wanted to leave with them. It’s hard to have friends in this business, at least ones you can count on.

April-13th-CURRENT MOOD-RELAXED

I’ve been reading this new book, all about the mysterious disappearance of the last queen of the vampires. Her name was Elissabat, and on the day of her coronation 400 years ago she simply walked away and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. I guess the story is interesting to me because from the outside it’s hard for any monster to imagine walking away from the fame and glory of being a queen. I can’t say that I am the same position by a long way, but sometimes unlife is a lot different when you’re on the outside looking in. I remember talking to a fellow teen scream star Veronica Von Vamp about this when we were doing a music video together. She said that sometimes monsters envy other monster’s unlife because they imagine it’s perfect, even though unlife never is, so when the monster that’s living that “purrfect” unlife chooses to leave it behind to do something else, no explanation is ever satisfactory. “So don’t waste a lot of effort trying,” she said. “It just takes time away from doing what you want to do.”

May-13th-CURRENT MOOD-EXPECTANT

I’ve been talking to my mom and dad about giving up being a touring performer for a while, and today I made my decision. I still want to sing because I love it, but I also want to be in one place long enough to have friends and do things that a “normal” ghoul gets to do. My parents told me they would support me, but I needed to finish out the final concert dates on my schedule because I had already committed to them. I agreed, and so I will. I know this isn’t going to make much sense to any monster but me, and I know that my next press conference is going to suck the luck out of every charm I have, but it’s what I want to do. I will be enrolling this fall as a student at Monster High, and I’ve talked to Headless Headmistress Bloodgood about doing a final concert there. I’m going to need some extra luck to make it happen, though. Wonder if some monster has an extra wish they’re not using?

#monster high #monster high diary #13 wishes #catty noir

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elopez7228 · 4 years ago

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Scenic Route 32/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Leia was slow to respond to the incoming phone call. She had spent many restless nights as the day of the hearing drew closer, and tonight had been no exception. She had only recently been able to slip into a dark and troubled sleep.

She knew she had to be strong for her people, keep her head held high. She had no right to back out now. It was her job to keep morale high and to assure the others that it would all work out—though that also meant that the number of people she could confide in had dwindled. She had spent many nights consumed by her own thoughts and fears.

Her phone rang five times before going silent.

This was her personal device, no one—well, practically no one—had access to that number. It happened infrequently enough that it was enough to rouse her despite her tiredness.

The clock on the screen read 5 AM. She had barely managed two hours of sleep. But the fact that someone had called her at such an ungodly hour using this number meant that it was important. She took a moment to collect herself and rub the sleep out of her eyes before calling back.

“Skywalker.”

“Leia, it’s Kaydel, I’m sorry for calling you so early but there was an email sent to the organization’s public address and I think you really need to see it, now.”

“An email?” Leia repeated somewhat incredulously.

“Yes, I’ll stay on the line while you read it. I’m ready for any follow-up orders.” Kaydel responded shakily.

Leia frowned. If there was something wrong with the trial documents, they knew to call Amilyn and the legal team. If something had happened to Luke, he had this number himself. What the hell was it about an email of all things that had the girl scared to death?

Putting Kaydel on speaker phone, she opened up her inbox and scrolled through the most recent messages. The public account usually only received spam and donation-related emails. What on earth was going on?

from : [email protected]

To : [email protected]

07/08/2018 : 4:46 AM

Subject : BB8

Hi Leia,

Looks like you left me a wrong number, I’m sure it was an accident! I didn’t know how else to reach you so I hope you see this...

It’s going well so far, Wyoming is magnificent.

I ran into your son Ben, he was performing at a local concert. What a small world! He offered to take BB8 to his uncle by himself.

I’m thinking it would be a great idea for BB8 to stay in the family. Would you have a problem with that? Let me know,

Cheers!

Rey

0044 (0) 7881 235 562

Leia’s gasp turned into a coughing fit so violent that she had to put the phone down. Leaning over her nightstand, she groped for the water bottle that she kept there.

“Leia? Are you okay?” Though muffled, Kaydel’s voice sounded worried.

Leia took a long sip of water, trying to calm her breathing as she wiped away a few tears that had been brought on by her sudden reaction. The phone was back in hand immediately.

“Thank you for the warning, Kay. No new orders. I’m going to handle this one myself. I’ve deleted the message, and not a word to anyone about this for now, am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

Once the conversation was over, Leia allowed her legs to give in. She slumped onto the bed, hands trembling.

She hadn’t seen it coming.

Posing as her son Ben Solo to get Rey to hand over the dog? It was, ironically, a perfect ruse.

The boy never ceased to amaze her. She underestimated him at every turn. Every time she took him for a fumbling idiot, he thoroughly managed to turn the tables on her. Well, he was her son after all. She supposed she should be proud.

Time was running out. She had to reach Rey before it was too late.

But there was no room for error here, the stakes were too high. She could ruin it all with the wrong words, with the wrong reaction.

Leia jotted down Rey’s number before deleting the email. She also made sure to delete it from her “trash” folder. Next, she went to the bathroom, taking longer than usual to braid and pin her long grey hair. It gave her time to collect her thoughts again. She took the time to dress carefully, make herself a cup of coffee, and sit down at the kitchen table in front of the telephone.

Rey couldn’t sleep after the events of that morning. She decided instead to get dressed for the day and busy herself with taking down the tent and gathering the rest of her scattered possessions. She felt a pang of longing mixed with desire as she picked up the clothes that had been strewn on the ground. She couldn’t help but remember the way that Ben had made love to her, right on top of the Falcon. It wasn’t that long ago but it felt like a world away.

She replayed the scene of his betrayal over and over in her head as she folded her clothes and packed up the car. She fumed at the thought that he had still sought to manipulate her.

Rey wondered what to do next. Go sightseeing again? Somehow she didn’t feel up to it anymore. Drive straight to California? That would mean saying goodbye to her itinerary.

Curse Leia Skywalker for dragging her into a conflict that was none of her business...Now she had come within an inch of her life multiple times—she would absolutely love to nominate Syed Ren for a Nobel Peace Prize—and now her holiday plans were ruined.

Turning on her phone for the first time since last night (battery conservation 101), she saw the voicemail icon flashing with a new message notification.

Her heart constricted in her chest because she knew exactly who it would be. Her thumb slid over the icon to open the application anyway. Ben Solo. Should she erase it? Should she bother to listen to it at all, did he even deserve that?

The temptation to hit “delete” was undeniable, but her curiosity won out. Her heart hammered as she pressed “play”.

She could feel her features crumbling as she listened to his words. It took her a second to process the new information.

His attempt at an apology was dramatic self-flagellation as usual. Blah-blah-nail-me-to-a-cross-my-love and all that. She really didn’t have time for this nonsense, he shouldn’t be the one whining here.

But the part about running to the police because “two killers were on her trail” was enough to justify not deleting the message.

Ben fucking Solo had some explaining to do, considering that literally all of his Saturday night bar mates were some kind of new wave punk assassins.

She was in the middle of feeding BB8 when an epiphany occurred. Scrambling for her phone, she typed out a very important email. By the time she hit “send” it was 6 AM (or 5 AM in California, she supposed).

She was hardly surprised when she received a response within fifteen minutes. When her phone buzzed the caller ID was unknown, but she knew it was Leia Skywalker. Rey took a deep breath. She knew that by sending that email she had turned the tables on them. Now, it was her turn.

“Yes, hello?”

“Hello, Rey? It’s Leia Skywalker. I’m sorry for calling you so early in the day but I figured since you emailed me you must be awake.”

Rey feigned surprise.

“Oh, hello Leia! I didn’t even recognize your number...lovely weather in Denver I hope?”

“In Den—oh yes, the weather here is fine,” Leia responded, seemingly shaken by the unexpected question. “Rey, how is BB8 doing, is she okay?”

“BB8? Of course! She’s been such a great road trip companion, she’s so cute and we’ve gotten so used to each other.”

“Is she...with you?”

Rey blinked. When was Leia going to stop pretending?

“Yeah, for now. I’m dropping her off with Ben this afternoon, actually. He said he was going to San Francisco to visit his uncle anyway and I guess I couldn’t possibly refuse him,” she replied as innocently as she could.

On the other side, Leia sounded like she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Rey, no, I think this isn’t a good idea...I would rather have her stay with you.”

“Why.”

It came out harsher than anticipated. Rey found herself unable to smile any longer.

Leia was silent for a moment, sensing the change of tone. She must have known she was missing something because she sighed ruefully.

“Rey, tell me the truth, where is BB8?”

“No Leia, you’re the one who has to tell me the truth. Why did you suddenly change your number?”

Straight to the point. Leia hesitated.

“To protect you.”

“Protect me from what, your own deceptions?”

“It’s a long story, Rey. But you have to keep BB8 with you, every step of the way. Don’t let Ben near her.”

“Oh believe me, Madam Skywalker, I have all the time in the world. In fact, I think I could really use a long story, given that my normal life has been upended by the godforsaken, murderous “Knights of Ren”. Thank you for that, by the way. This is not how I wanted to spend my time, so I really think you owe me an explanation.”

The older woman sighed again. Rey was right. In her blind panic to strike FORCE as quickly as possible, she had forgotten the human factors involved. She had put this innocent girl in danger.

She was clearly resourceful and capable, but she was innocent all the same. She deserved the truth.

Ever so carefully, Leia began her story. Starting with her parents’ company, the betrayal of her mother by her father, his fall from corporate grace, and then the massive culture shift under Snoke’s leadership. As the new director, Snoke had sold shares of the family business to their competitors through fraudulent financial schemes, gaining enough political influence to become the president of the board. Then he came for Luke and Leia, who had been attempting to independently audit his financial gains.

Finally, he was able to turn Leia’s own son, Ben, against her. He offered him everything she never could: money, power, and a prestigious title.

Rey paid close attention. The backstory gave her a lot of context for what she had already known from her web searches. But it still didn’t answer her biggest question.

“Leia, where do I fit into all of this?”

Rey, Leia admitted, was a Golden Opportunity (trademark pending)...truly one in a million, too good to pass up, really. In the Leia’s line of work, one had to make decisions rapidly—often in high-stakes strategic situations with difficult choices and volatile conditions. The situation could devolve at any given moment.

How could Earth Soldiers get the micro-SD, that contained all of the evidence of FORCE’s illegal insider trading under Snoke and Hux, to San Francisco without triggering a defensive strike? Leia’s solution was to use a clean hand. Who better than someone who was going on a haphazard road trip across the country with no agenda and no political motives or alliances whatsoever? Rey was the perfect messenger.

What Leia hadn’t counted on was Ben’s intervention. He crashed through the plan like a bull in a china shop. Brash, but incredibly effective. Underestimating her son always had proven to be her fatal flaw.

Rey took the time to absorb it all. On it’s face, Leia’s strategy was questionable, but not impossible.

“You should have told me all this at the very beginning.”

“If I had, would you have taken the job?”

“Probably not. But that’s not the point! You had no right to put my life in danger over a personal conflict. Especially without my knowledge. What am I to you? Just collateral damage?”

On the other side, Leia’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t respond. She had made some questionable decisions in her lifelong conflict against FORCE, and it wore her down on some days. Sometimes she was too quick, too rash for her own good. She thought back to her days in the army, how she had always been surrounded by comrades-in-arms who strived for the same mission. But real life wasn’t like that.

Rey didn’t need to hear that, probably didn’t want to hear it either.

“You’re my only hope,” Leia said simply. “And if the Knights of Ren are after you I can send someone to escort you.”

This would alert all of FORCE’s allies, they would all target the Millenium Falcon at once. But Rey didn’t deserve to be sacrificed for a cause that wasn’t her own.

“Luckily, I’m not done here. I think I still have a card to play. Can I call you at this number—or are you going to disappear again?”

“You can keep it, as long as you memorize it. Please, I don’t want to be traced.”

“Understood. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Rey hung up. The very next person she called was Ben Solo.

#reylo #fanfiction #Scenic Route #Modern AU

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ahnsael · 5 years ago

Text

I’m back at the hotel. I’m beat. But dang it, that was a great time.

I got to meet up with Andrew today (he texted me while I was on the Submarine Voyage and I didn’t see it until I got off, but the timing was perfect -- when I replied and told him where I was, it turned out that he was right on the other side of the Matterhorn). We watched the Tiki Room together before he went home to work on school stuff.

I didn’t run into anyone else I knew today (no random encounters with former bosses like yesterday, even though I kept my eyes open for one in Star Wars Land).

I’m rambling again, but this time I’ll include a cut so I don’t take up as much of your dashboard as I did this morning.

One thing I found amusing: after going to Oga’s Cantina, I decided to buy a DJ R3X Funko Pop (it was that or the DJ R3X bluetooth speaker, but...we’re talking $25 vs $150). I remembered seeing them earlier in the day, and I went to every store in Batuu trying to remember where I saw them. In the last store, I asked the cashier for help.

“Um, I think those are sold off-planet. We don’t have them on Batuu.”

(Which seems odd since that’s where DJ R3X actually is.)

I took the hint and realized that I must have seen them in the Star Trader, so I went there and sure enough, there they were.

But I wondered, if I really didn’t get it, if he would have been more specific. Like, I get that cast members are strongly encouraged to play roles in that part of the park (I overheard one lady talking about a friend’s ex-boyfriend who got his arms ripped off by Chewbacca for doing her wrong -- some people are INTO their roles, and I dig it), but...if I had been confused by the “we don’t sell them on Batuu” statement instead of putting together the clue, would he have sent me to Tomorrowland?

Ooh, a good hint could have been “I believe the travel company Star Tours services a planet where they are sold, maybe check the shop in their terminal if you happen to find yourself in that part of the galaxy.” That way he can keep it “in-universe” while being more specific.

Of course, he may have already thought of all that, and just didn’t need to use it because what he said was enough to remind me that I’d seen it in that other part of Disneyland that is full of Star Wars stuff, and I told him that I now knew where I had seen it.

This whole trip, cast members were great (with one singular exception, but not enough to mention it to anyone in authority -- she may have been having a bad day). Sure, there were cast members who weren’t 100% in it (but, honestly, I probably saw more great examples of great cast members in the past two days than I have in the past several trips combined); there were those I overheard talking about the party last night, or a dating issue that two security guards were talking about at the bag check, but...that stuff is going to happen all the time (and the guards did stop talking about it as I went through the metal detector and then gathered my things from the tray to re-stock my pockets with my wallet, phone, portable phone charger, charging cable, and the trading pins I brought, which I didn’t trade in the end because nothing I saw on cast member lanyards seemed “better” to me -- but I had a LOT squeezed into my pockets so I could avoid bringing a backpack or fanny pack so it took me a little time to get back together when I went through Security).

There was one cast member at the Temple of the Forbidden Eye today, though, that bugged me. We were in the film room and she was telling people to fill in all the available space (odd to me, since the FastPass merge point is at the temple entrance, and then I walked all the way to the atrium before running into the rest of the line inside, so it’s not like she was trying to get more people out of the hot sun -- as a guest I hear “fill in all available space” and I think “How many of these people are going to try to use this to cut ahead of other people in line?”).

She, in a very monotone voice, just kept repeating “Move forward, fill all available space, side by side, two by two, three by three.” I heard her repeat that, verbatim, at least 15 times within just a couple minutes. It was just annoyingly repetitive, especially with the same “ugh, why don’t these people get it?” tone that came across.

But, again, maybe she was just having an off day.

And while I’ve had rides on the Submarine Voyage before, years ago before it was a Nemo thing, where a more accurate name would have been “body odor in a tube,” today was something else.

I mean, I’m in there for maybe 15 minutes with a handful of people who figured that since they were going underwater in a submarine today, they could skip the shower. And it was...like...GAG bad today. Even in the Tiki Room with Andrew, I was still coughing like I was trying to get the stench out of my throat (not HIS stench -- I detected no noticeable smell from him at all -- just from having breathed in the B.O. Cigar before that).

But I really feel for the pilot. They’re right in the middle, higher than the rest of us (and in comics, “stink lines” always go up, so I assume they do the same in real life). I hope they’ve got better ventilation up there than those of us under sea level have. Otherwise that’s got to be a miserable position to be in.

My portable phone charger worked like a charm, though. While I carried it and the phone in separate pockets most of the time, it was small enough that the two times I used it today, I could put it and the phone in the same pocket with my lightning cable connecting them.

When I got in line for the Submarine Voyage, I was down to about 30% battery (and this was at noon, about three hours after I got to the park). I got off the attraction at about 12:35, and I was already up to just over 80% (and the remaining battery in the charger was still 94%).

Granted, as I kept using the phone as it charged (I’d just bring the phone and charger out of my pocket together and hold them back to back as I used the phone), it was about 3 hours later that I unplugged it with the phone at 92%.

I recharged again later while I was in Oga’s, and got back up into the 80% range in the 45 minutes that I was in line for Oga’s and inside (I didn’t use my full 45-minutes of allowed time -- the sun was BEATING down on the line to get in, as I knew from having been out there, so I figured I’d help people get into the shade since I’d already had my two drinks).

Oh, and the Disneyland app LOST my Oga’s reservation.

Twice today it forgot everything about me. Even though I used its “touch ID” feature to sign in when needed, on one of those times I put my thumb on the main button and the app said I had entered the wrong password. I had to reset my password.

Then, even though I had seen the reservation for Oga’s on the app on my walk from Pirates (had to ride that one a second time) to Galaxy’s Edge, when I got there the reservation had completely vanished. There is a Guest Relations podium with a computer at the center of the three entrances to Galaxy’s Edge, so I stopped by there and said “This is probably going to sound like I’m making it up to get something I didn’t actually reserve, but...I had a reservation for this hard-to-get-into place and now it’s gone.”

(I didn’t think about the fact that I had an email verification...but at the same time, I also had email verifications for two other times since I modified the timing of the reservation twice this morning).

But the Guest Relations cast member assured me that if I did indeed have a reservation, then Oga’s would have my name, and I would be fine. And, sure enough, when I got there and explained, they asked for my last name and the time of my reservation, and verified that I did indeed have it.

But the Guest Relations guy said that they’ve had a lot of these types of glitches with the app.

I mean, it is a complicated app on their end -- keeping track of dining reservations and FastPasses for tens of thousands of people per day can’t be an easy feat. So I won’t say “Disney has got to be better than this” but...it would be nice. But still, the reservation wasn’t LOST lost, just lost on my end. They still made good on it, so I’m happy.

I can’t wait to do this again someday...but next time I may fly and pay for a shuttle to whatever hotel I stay at (this one isn’t bad; about a 20 minute walk to the main gate, but I could see maybe spending a little more to be closer next time). That drive into SoCal was rough, and I have to make it in the other direction tomorrow. It would probably be more expensive to fly, but would be an ease on driving stress.

I have zero regrets about the past couple of days. And maybe the date no-show was a blessing in disguise. I do like her, and it’ll be interesting the next time I talk to her to see whether she’s mad at me for not trying harder to get her here with me or whether she just actually blew me off, but...thinking back over the past couple of days (plus the day before, when I “met” her -- we had seen and talked to each other several times in the casino, but that was the first time that I spent that much time talking to her and ended up with the whole crush thing going on), either (1) I would have been moving too fast for her (she mentioned on that morning in the casino that she couldn’t believe how quickly I walked -- and I’m even faster in the park), or (2) she would have been annoyed at how I bounced around instead of taking the park in a clockwise/counter-clockwise direction (especially today -- I kept booking whatever the next available FastPass was until I had FastPassed everything, then I FastPassed some of them again), or (3) mad because she came all this way for me to call it an early both days of the trip (granted, I probably would have struggled through if she was keeping up, just out of pride, but still...whether that happened or not she would have gotten gross sweaty Kenny, not suave tie-wearing casino manager Kenny).

All in all, to the best of my recollection, here’s the list of rides I got in (not in the order I did them, but in the order that they’re listed on the Disney Wiki):

• Main Street Cinema (so glad they rescinded the “put merchandise in there” thing) • Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters (I didn’t score as well as I would have liked, especially since I KNOW the diamond-shaped targets are worth the most -- my aim just wasn’t good today and I got just over 100,000 points) • Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage (I had heard that the show building was drained and that the subs just ran through a trough of water in the middle of otherwise dry scenes -- and while that seemed true in some scenes, in others I could see the surface of the water in the distance; I’d love to see a “water map” of that show building). • HyperSpace Mountain (twice -- once as a walk-on in the standby line with a 3 minute wait, the second with a FastPass because I HAD to do that one again, it was amazing, and it put Smuggler’s Run to shame). • Star Tours (every scene after leaving the spaceport was new to me). There was no Rebel Spy on our flight. After the cast member left the cabin and we heard the gangplank move out of the way, there was a couple minutes where nothing happened, then we heard an announcement that it was “taking longer to load R2D2 than anticipated,” and then when the ride did start and the Stormtroopers stopped us to check for the rebel spy, the area of the screen that is usually a photo of someone in the StarSpeeder was just a blank rectangle (and we had no empty seats, so it’s not like the cast member hit some “choose random” button and the computer chose someplace at which nobody was sitting). Still better than Smuggler’s Run. • Okay, why does that Wiki still list “Innoventions” as a “current” attraction? It’s been the Star Wars Launch Bay for a while now (and is currently closed so I didn’t go in). Then again, it also lists the Starcade as a “current attraction,” so maybe that wasn’t the best site to link to. • Snow White’s Scary Adventures. This one pissed me off. Nothing about the attraction itself or the cast members therein (though I was disappointed to see that the brass “book” at the entrance has been worn down to the point where it’s almost impossible to read the indented words). But I was in line behind a family. One lady, two guys, two kids. The two guys were going out of their way to tell the kids (probably one three years old, the other four) that the Evil Queen was going to throw them in her dungeon. And throwing in evil laughs (which I’m afraid I may have prompted because I touched the brass apple at the entrance and elicited an evil laugh from the Evil Queen, which they were emulating). By the show scene in the queue (where there’s a spell book an fake stairs and a bunch of money people have thrown in there for some reason but I know it goes to charity so do your thing if you’re ever tempted to throw money in there) they were telling the boy that they were going to put him in there, even lifting him up the bars in the windows and telling him that they could fit him through and that he’d be trapped forever. The mom was trying to reassure the kids that it was “a baby’s ride” and that it wasn’t scary (meanwhile I’m thinking of the dungeon scenes, and the scary forest, and the fact that “Scary” is IN THE NAME OF THE ATTRACTION FOR A REASON and that the kids are going to get off hating that she lied to them, but MORE angry at the guys who instilled all this fear into the kids, and then MADE FUN OF THEM for being scared. I had hoped the kids would handle it okay, but when I got off (I was in the car behind them), they were still in the exit walkway and the boy was crying so hard after the ride that he was drooling. People don’t realize how well kids remember things like this (as I can say from personal experience). I saw the cast member (who hadn’t heard everything that I had heard) hesitate before letting them ride, but I can’t blame him -- that’s on who I’m guessing was the kid’s dad and uncle (I don’t know those relations for sure, but both of those guys were complete assholes). I hope the kid ends up okay -- that came across, to me, as a scarring experience for him, and I hope I’m wrong. • Pinocchio’s Daring Journey -- I thought I was filming this one, and was really proud of how I framed everything as the ride went on (I was in the front row, holding my phone on the front of the vehicle, and adjusting the angle to get everything JUST right -- then realized at the end that I had been in photo mode, not video mode. I took a photo of an empty part of the queue as the ride started (which was blurry so I deleted it), and got no video at all. • The Sleeping Beauty Castle walk-through -- a group passed me in the first set of scenes, and literally tried to open every single door in the castle. Fortunately for Disneyland, all of those doors were locked. The effects in there have come a long way since I was a kid. • It’s a Small World. I live-broadcasted this one on Facebook, then got a copyright violation. I thought that song was copyright free, as it was written by the Sherman Brothers and then not copyrighted since they wrote it for UNICEF as “a gift to the children of the world.” I contested it, but then I researched and it seems that maybe the song WAS copyrighted (and the copyright renewed). I sent Facebook a message telling me that they could re-mute the video since I had already claimed that I had permission to use the song (since I thought nobody owned it -- maybe it’s just the attraction recording that is copyrighted?). It got more attention on Facebook (both from Facebook and from friends) than I thought it would. • Matterhorn Bobsleds - Only one side working still after part of the mountain fell off not long ago. The side that was working (the right side/Teacups side) was not the one I thought would be working; but there’s still scaffolding and scrim up next to the Main Street-facing waterfall (which is currently turned off) where the rockwork fell off • Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. I rode it twice. Both times were on train #4. I was just glad it wasn’t train #6. They have a new track and, I’m told, new trains since the accident (I rode it once after the crash that killed Marcello Torres on the old track but never rode it again until the track replacement because I didn’t feel safe). But train #6 was the one that crashed in 2003 (it crashed twice more after reopening from the initial crash, though those ones were minor incidents of trains bumping into each other at the station). I didn’t do “the goat trick.” • Mark Twain Riverboat - This was the attraction on which I closed out my trip. A nice, relaxing ride around the newly-shortened (at least “newly” since the last time I was here” around the Rivers of America. Another guest pointed out kids on the WRONG SIDE OF THE RAILING along the river, and the cast member acted quickly. Good show, guest who reported it and cast member aboard the boat who handled it. • Jungle Cruise - Don’t remember skipper’s name (I was half-asleep by this point). They were middling-to-good. Decent deliveries, not the best bote of guests (it’s spelled “bote” when it’s the Jungle Cruise). • Indiana Jones - I mentioned my beef with one particular cast member. Do the “air jets” that are supposed to signify things landing on you ever fool anyone? Even when the attraction opened, it was an obvious play. • Walt Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room -- saw this with Andrew (aka disfan here but he hasn’t posted in almost a year). My parents and lil sis were in Walt Disney World last month and the version they saw was shortened, mine was not. So I have that over them • Haunted Mansion Holiday -for the fist time (even though I had been here once since his re-debut) --- worked, and the effect is amazing. • Splash Mountain -- I tried to keep my phone dry. I succeeded (last time I was on this I broke my stepdad’s cell phone with water damage so I’n GOOD now since I kept my phone and charger dry), • Splash Mountain -- I did Single Rider and the cast member told me to go over a bridge that was roped of. My first time separating/disconnecting ropes since I was a cast member.

#Kenny goes to Disneyland #the 'suave' bit is a joke I am anything BUT 'suave'#if I was suave she would have actually shown up

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zenonaa · 6 years ago

Photo

Read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720781/chapters/44402326

Comments: birthday fic for a fictional character

***

...

I recall that I was in my Tokyo office because I remember a dark auburn bookcase unit with a unique design stood to my left, the one with the circular frame at the centre. Within the circle, several shelves had been fixed to form the shape of four staircases, and right in the middle of that was a compartment where one could sit a photograph, but I had not.

Someone buzzed my intercom. When I raised my head, I could see the bookcase unit at the edge of my vision. An associate of mine, a renowned interior designer, gifted it to me years ago.

“You have a visitor,” said my receptionist through a speaker.

“Let them in,” I instructed.

A few moments later - I didn’t count the number of seconds - the door ahead of me opened and Osamu Sugawara came in. He always looked like he just raked his fingers through recently washed hair.

I had no time for pleasantries. “What is it?”

Osamu grinned and swaggered over to my desk, holding a stack of papers. Once he had crossed the room, he set them down.

“These are the results for the first task,” Osamu said.

The first task had been assigned to all one hundred and eight competitors. Simply, they were given a certain amount of money and with it, they were to try to make as much of a profit as possible within the timeframe, which was six months. He watched my face as he pushed the papers toward me. I cast my eyes toward the list of names.

At the top was one that I didn’t recognise right away.

“Byakuya Polanski?” I read aloud.

Basic facts were listed by his name, such as his date of birth and how much money he made. Reading them answered some of my queries but raised other questions.

I met Osamu’s gaze. “This one’s eleven?”

That would make him...

“... the youngest of them all,” said Osamu. He pointed to Byakuya’s name like I was some kind of idiot who hadn’t read it, but between us two, he was the idiot.

Of course, he was a successful businessman but when compared to me and many of my near equals, Osamu was a total idiot, though he was smarter than the common filth that most of the population consisted of.

“Between him and the next competitor, there’s a wide margin, and this Masanori person in second place is in his forties,” I said. While Osamu was all smile, my face was as stiff as stone. “Is all this information correct?”

“You think they were mistyped, or mixed up?” asked Osamu, raising his eyebrows, and he almost looked serious. “No, no. It’s correct. I’ve met the boy several times. He’s really a remarkable child. Very stern though, just like his mother. Doesn’t trust anyone except his butler, and he doesn’t do friends either.”

I steepled my fingers and stared at Byakuya’s name, in thought. Osamu carried on talking. When I glanced up, he was waving a hand around animatedly.

“Plays the violin beautifully and can speak multiple languages,” he said, like a commoner father boasting about their son. “His mother must push him hard.”

He nattered on. I grimaced and lowered my gaze, keeping my face tight.

“Describe his mother to me,” I said without looking up.

“Eh?” Osamu paused. He settled down. “She’s called Anastazja. Her mother is Polish and her father is French and the managing director of Polanski Business Limited.”

This Anastazja woman must have been pushing Byakuya because while every woman chosen for me was born from the elite, overall, she was rather near the bottom of the barrel. There was also the fact that this Byakuya child was the youngest person competing. A female child was a year older than him and she was significantly lower down the list. I squared my shoulders.

“Kijou?” said Osamu, more curious than cautious, but still both.

“Everyone below the fifty-fourth ranking... they’re to be removed from the competition,” I announced. “I will arrange that. Don’t bother yourself with it.”

Osamu nodded, but I doubted he planned to bother himself. He was a carefree man. No, I would be in charge of authorising their removals, as per tradition.

“Is there anything else you require me for?” I asked.

“Not on the business side of things,” he replied.

“Then that is everything,” I said. “You may leave.”

I returned my focus to the stack of papers and heard Osamu’s footsteps recede. The door then shut.

Despite this Byakuya child’s early success, it is too early to determine a winner. That is why there are to be other tasks, each one whittling away more competitors until finally only one person remains. As far as I am aware, the youngest never won. It was always someone older.

Anyone could be trained to play stocks. The next tasks will leave only genuine candidates.

***

...

For this next task, I directed that the competitors should earn money using an industry that the conglomerate doesn’t already focus on. I excluded them from various enterprises such as mining, nonferrous metals, petrochemicals, aerospace and using the stock market, to give a few examples. The conglomerate comprises of many more than those, for it branches into most sectors, but I permitted competitors to involve themselves in industries the conglomerate doesn’t concentrate on.

Of course, I couldn’t allow the task to be too simple. Everyone began with the same amount of funding. I would be judging them not just on their profits, but also their business image, connections and potential... among other things. Again, those are just a handful of examples.

On this day, I was in an office in America. Everyone had been ordered not to bother me while I worked. It didn’t matter how important they deemed something to be - I would not be available for any meetings or queries.

I started before dawn the day after the last task’s deadline. The sky was a gradient between pale blue and faded orange as I booted up my computer. Sitting in a silent room, I sifted through my emails, stuffed with attachments, and spreadsheets soon dominated all my monitors.

Some names stood out to me from previous tasks. Only the ones who ranked highly, of course. Anyone who performed below my expectations were already dead to me. Ultimately, I came across a certain name. Byakuya Polanski. I rearranged the windows on my monitors so that his efforts filled every screen.

He opted for the pharmaceutical industry, which included medical devices. A quick glance informed me that Polanski Pharma Co Limited had made massive profits. Not as much as certain other competitors, but so far, enough to put him in the top ten.

Even so, I wasn’t judging them solely on their profits, though that would certainly have a significant influence on how I ranked them overall.

The logo consisted of a ten point star with ‘Polanski’ written next to it, sleek and professional. According to his head butler, who had been authorised to write up in detail about Byakuya’s venture, employees exhibited high satisfaction in all areas, which other than limiting turnover and ensuring greater work performance meant nothing to me. If a worker did excellent work and they were miserable, that wasn’t of my concern. His report incorporated graphs and questionnaire responses with contact details should I wish for them to confirm the information shown to me.

I cupped my chin as I perused. As stated in the butler’s report, Byakuya played a large role in designing and developing the technology, which included robotic limbs and implants, and he also heavily involved himself in the medicine side of things. The technological aspect was more groundbreaking, using scientific knowledge that an ordinary person could only imagine, yet this was a child on the verge of becoming a teenager.

This went beyond being a businessman. This was being an inventor. A genius. I noted that the technology wasn’t ridiculously expensive to produce, even quite cheap compared to the rest of the industry without having a detrimental effect on the quality. After I read the tests done on his products and the results of said tests, I delved into the breakdowns of his costs and found a startling beginner’s error.

He undersold his products. Other companies offering the equivalent sold them at a far greater price, and theirs were inferior to what he had available. Had he increased his prices, he would have made a far greater profit. Yes, he had many customers right now, and the female child in a photo was smiling at the camera as she showed off her new arm, but Byakuya could have easily increased the prices by a vast amount and still had customers.

Did he intend to appeal to a lower class of people, even though they had less money?

That loss of profit could have cost him the competition. I had half a mind to score him poorly so he would be eliminated, but he performed adequately regardless. I decided to rank him nineth, and by evening, he had dropped to twelfth.

By night time, I finished my initial readover, and I pressed a button.

“Luwak coffee now,” I said.

My personal assistant brought some through within the next ten minutes. She bowed then left, only speaking to address me once, and I remained deep in thought.

This will take some time.

***

...

I decided on my final rankings for the previous task. Thirty people remained in the competition at that stage, including Byakuya Polanski.

Only when a victor emerged did that person receive the coveted Togami name. The same happened to me - I had always been Kijou, but I wasn’t Kijou Togami until I proved myself in the final round. My superior genetics and elite upbringing ensured my victory. There, I showed that only I was worthy and no one who battled against me deserved to be a Togami. Not while I existed.

The next round had a much tighter budget. I relocated them all to different countries and tasked them all with creating a home business, forbidding them from partnering up with any companies already affiliated with the conglomerate and I made them use aliases.

They could only work with local businesses and six months after I set this task, I had thick folders physically in my office, one for each remaining competitor.

Halfway through my evaluations, I came across Byakuya’s folder. He started an automobile business, repairing, taking in used cars and reselling them or reusing the parts. In addition to that, he trained not just employees but customers too, as well as gave out advice.

“He’s a bright one, isn’t he?” said Osamu, slouched forward and resting an arm on a corner of my desk. Other than the occasional comment, he had mostly been quiet for once. “Did you know that he can pilot a helicopter?”

I elevated my gaze.

“You know him well, Sugawara?” I said.

Osamu tilted his head a little.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on several of your bastard children,” said Osamu, which didn’t surprise me. He smirked. “He’s the cutest of the bunch.”

A lot of my senior employees did the same. I could remember some visiting me in my teenage years and for some time after. Activity picked up as the competition drew closer. For me, the competition officially began when I was in my late twenties. Soon after I became the sole heir, I supplied sperm to private clinics as had been tradition.

Anyway, the reason these visits took place was so business associates could try to suck up to someone likely to become the future head... but the youngest never won. No teenager had ever won. The oldest competitor in this competition had been a male called Masanori, who had fared poorly in the second challenge and was struck off then. He had been in his forties during this competition, and those like him stood a better chance of winning than a child.

So I didn’t understand why Osamu acquainted himself with someone who had no hope of winning.

I didn’t like not understanding things. Osamu’s lips still curved.

“Sugawara, what made you seek him out? There were more than one hundred competitors older than him,” I told him.

“Just a hunch,” said Osamu. He shifted a bit, still with that slit of a smile on his face.

My interest extended no further. Osamu was a valuable colleague, so I didn’t wish to start unnecessary strife or bother him with more questions. That would be inconvenient for me. I continued to sift through Byakuya’s folder. His young age would have put him at a disadvantage as few people would take a twelve year old boy seriously, especially as he didn’t have his family names to fall back on, but apparently he had been accompanied by his head butler.

Clients must have assumed that the old man with him was the one they were dealing with, not the child, and I said as such. Osamu shrugged a shoulder.

“Probably. But by having a handsome young boy with him, they probably thought Pennyworth was his grandfather or something. A combination like that will appeal to many customers,” Osamu explained.

I read on, and then I quietly considered what I had read. Osamu didn’t rush me for an answer, watching the process on my face.

“Overall, he has done adequately,” I announced. “Byakuya made some interesting decisions. He offers free consultations, giving advice on reasonable prices so that customers can see if they’re being overcharged at other places. This will make customers go to him, as his prices seem cheaper and fairer, but by doing that, he is limiting his profits. Something similar happened in the previous trial. He’s offering free healthcare and childcare to the employees... an unnecessary undertaking.”

Osamu didn’t say anything. I read some more, regardless of the onset of a headache, and then glanced up. For some reason, or more likely, for no reason, Osamu was still there. In my personal space. And he had been for the past several hours, all the while contributing very little. My lips pursed.

“You don’t have to be here,” I said, restraining a sneer, and Osamu straightened up casually.

The reason I fought my annoyance down wasn’t so I didn’t offend him. I simply didn’t want to betray any emotion. If I showed a sign of weakness, then anyone could chisel away at the chink in my defences that it made.

“Until next time, my dear friend,” Osamu said, and he strode away, raising a hand briefly as he headed to the door.

But he didn’t leave when he got there. He paused, then looked at me over his shoulder.

“I heard about what happened to Masanori-kun. A plane crash... I suppose there was no getting around the pilot’s death,” he remarked in a light tone.

I didn’t reply. Osamu finally left, and I finally had some peace.

Now I could concentrate fully, and I finished going through the rest of the folders. Afterwards, I massaged my temples and heaved a sigh.

It will be a few days before I came to a final decision, I expect.

***

...

While I was seated at a desk in one of my many offices, going over my list of the fifteen competitors set to participate in the final task, I was disturbed by the sound of my phone ringing. I picked it up off my desk and checked the caller ID. Unknown. Only a few people knew my personal number, but the caller may have retrieved it by other means, such as by finding it in someone else’s phone directory or by misdialing it.

As I had important business to attend to, and because I had no desire to know who it was, I hung up. Even if it was someone I knew like my doctor, I would have declined the call. After much solitary deliberation, I had painstakingly narrowed down thirty competitors to fifteen based on their performances in previous tasks and information provided by a large number of trusted and verified sources. The reason why I had needed two weeks to go over the data again and again and so on was because one of these fifteen would take over for me once I retired. A single mistake could doom everything.

I read over the names, even though I could recite them off by heart at this point. One of them was Byakuya Polanski. If I’m honest, I didn’t expect him to win but he had done well in every task, despite his age and the mediocrity of the maternal side of his family. Though I had my doubts, if he wasn’t suited to being the new head of the conglomerate then he would lose and the individual who was the most qualified would become it. His presence wouldn’t matter.

Every challenge helped sculpt my views on each person, bit by bit, and I feel confident in every choice.

Still... I eyed Byakuya’s name.

My phone rang again.

The same number as before.

Not only that, but I had been sent text message saying, ‘I would pick up if I was you.’

I could have blocked the number, or rejected the call again. However, I was curious though mostly annoyed, so I clicked to accept the call.

“Who is this? How did you get my number?” I demanded in a professional tone, so curt and sharp.

Laughter, lazy and young, crackled disrespectfully. My face grew hot.

“As your heir apparent, I of course have your direct number,” said the person.

“What is your name?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“Ah, I don’t have a name. I’m Nameless. See, when I was very young, a murderer came to my town and slaughtered everyone except me because he missed my hiding place, and he burnt everything to the ground. Therefore I am Nameless now.”

Any retort that I had prepared disintegrated in my mouth, and my mind didn’t prepare any others. I was silent and I could barely breathe.

The person was not put off by my silence. They carried on talking in a bright voice.

“You’re silent. You must remember. This town... was a mining town. It had access to very valuable minerals. The conglomerate wished to acquire some, but no matter how much money you offered them, they declined. The less people who knew, the better, so you hired a hitman and he killed everyone. Almost everyone. Suzuhiko... do you remember him?”

Of course. He was in the final fifteen.

“Suzuhiko did it, and you covered it up. It has been a cold case ever since. Did you know my father delivered the post and my mother would always get real mad if we trekked in mud? She would spank me when I did, and I would keep doing it just to elicit a response from her. His sister found me, and she convinced him to let me live and they adopted me. Now... what do I want? It’s simple. As I’m Nameless, I wasn’t entered in this little game, so I think it’s only fair I’m entered now.”

“You’re not a Togami.”

“But what am I if not that? I’m nobody now, because of you.”

They couldn’t see my hands tremble.

“I’ve already chosen fifteen,” I said. “It has to be fifteen competitors. That’s tradition.”

“I can be whoever you want me to be. If you won’t listen to me, I’m sure the press will. I’d like to see you quash that, Father.”

My whole body stiffened and I dragged my gaze to the list of names. All of these had very important and influential families. To take off almost any one of them would draw too much attention, raise too many questions. Most of them knew each other. Most.

Therefore, I said...

“... you are now Byakuya Polanski.”

“Awesome! Don’t worry, I bet my sister or my brother are still in the competition, so they will give me a lift. We’ll chat real soon. Bye.”

The person hung up.

I put down my phone.

I thought long and hard, for a long time.

I decided I will have to make some adjustments for the final round.

***

...

The final round didn’t go as planned, I must admit.

Suzuhiko was supposed to kill this invader. It didn’t matter, as I have since found out, that the traitor was a male child around the same age as Byakuya. If he posed a threat to the integrity of the Togami Conglomerate, he had to be eliminated even if he was a child.

For this final task, I had every remaining competitor kidnapped and taken to an island. The only people that I did not kidnap were Suzuhiko and his two siblings, and I let that be known. This created some tension and animosity, as desired.

Then they were all given a simple task. On the island, I had set up a scavenger hunt filled with challenges. A few of them referred to it as a game. Whoever completed it first would prove themselves to be the rightful heir. They were allowed to work together but only the individual who keyed in a password revealed when the tasks were all completed would become the heir, so it would be unwise to trust or depend on anyone else. It wasn’t a password that one could guess - it was a string of numbers and letters that had no connection to any of the others.

But one competitor had a secret, second objective. Suzuhiko was to murder the invader. The parasite.

Everything went as I anticipated for the first few weeks. Sometimes several of them grouped together to solve certain puzzles while others remained lone wolves. They slept little, smoked during intervals and nosed around the premises. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I expected Suzuhiko to murder the invader but I didn’t, however, expect everyone to start killing each other before Suzuhiko had the chance to complete his mission.

The invader died. Suzuhiko died. By the end, there were fourteen corpses and a body that was young and almost dead. They stabbed, bludgeoned, crushed and set each other on fire. Other than the female, there was a detective and his assistant who both appeared as the killings commenced. I arrived at the end, having seen it all play out on whatever cameras they didn’t break during the bloodshed, but I had someone explain it to me in detail over a game of chess.

We sat in my private plane, opposite each other with a chessboard resting on a table between us. By ‘we’, I mean me and Byakuya. He is tall, but he has a young face so I can see how he succeeded in disguising himself as the female assistant of a detective. His alias was Polaris Polanski. The surname was his own, while the forename was the name of a star but also based on ‘Pola’, the name of his mother’s mother. This disguise fooled everyone not colluding with him, and the long hair he had before he cut it off had helped.

Byakuya must take after his mother, because his hair is blond and his eyes are blue, unlike mine. I will meet her when we register our marriage.

After all, her son had won.

“My butler only killed one of them. Shinobu wasn’t in a state to tell me his name, but with some digging around, I found out he was her adopted brother, Kazuo,” said Byakuya. He moved his bishop to H6.

I used one of my bishops to take the bishop he relocated.

“It’s no more than a corpse now,” I stated, referring to the invader.

Byakuya examined the board with a furrowed brow, then he dragged his queen diagonally across most of it to take my bishop. His queen couldn’t be immediately displaced, and I stared at the board as I weighed my options.

Earlier, Byakuya had told me how he, his butler and the detective got here. He hired the detective, found out where one of the competitors lived and stalked them. Then, when the competitor was being kidnapped, Byakuya’s butler made a distraction nearby so Byakuya and the detective could plant a tracker discreetly onto the transporter.

We used more than one transporter for each individual and Byakuya’s group had to follow with a delay, so they missed the private plane that took the competitor to the island. They reached the island weeks after the task properly began. While this may seem late, only a couple of people knew about the location. To find out about it at all required more than a detective with a high ranking.

Not only that, but Byakuya solved the island’s puzzles within days.

And that is why I chose Byakuya to be my successor. I moved my rook forward and leaned back in my chair.

“You’re the youngest that has ever won, but don’t take it as a compliment. Just because you are a child, that doesn’t mean I will show you any leniency or kindness,” I warned him.

Byakuya moved his rook to an adjacent square, but while mine had stepped toward him, his shifted once to the side, claiming none of my pieces. He looked up, stony-faced.

“I wouldn’t want you to,” he said, and I hitched my other rook across the board.

The game continued in silence for a while. It progressed slowly but neither of us were bored or distracted. We took our time contemplating our moves and studying our opponent. When Byakuya snuck to the island, he thought to bring a change of clothes, so he no longer wore a pinafore dress but a crisp suit. As he pondered his next move, I regarded him coolly, and when his eyes met mine, though his pair differed in colour to mine, I found them not so different otherwise.

“What will happen to Shinobu?” he asked, reminding me that he was a child.

“She will be expelled like the others,” I said with my arms folded over my chest. “That one is unfit to have the Togami name.”

He didn’t answer right away. In the meantime, I moved my queen forward. Some thought absorbed him, and as his eyes drilled into space, I could tell that he was not as focused on the game of chess as he should have been.

“The others seem to be falling into unfortunate accidents,” said Byakuya, and his gaze flitted to my face. He tipped his head slightly to one side. Though his features were smooth and blank, it was not due to a lack of thought. They were deliberately so.

I didn’t correct him. For them, it was a curse. A curse that came as a result of falling from greatness to the worst possible fate - becoming part of the 99%. But for me, it was a burden, though a necessary one.

Byakuya blinked. After he did, a shadow seemed to fall over his face.

“I will have her be my secretary,” said Byakuya, and I scoffed.

“Are you soft in the head? Or worse... the heart?” I asked him, and I jerked a hand through the air. “She would steal your place in a heartbeat. You would have to sleep with your eyes open from now on if you did that.”

He didn’t falter.

“I can’t be killed,” said Byakuya simply, and he finally moved one of his pieces. “Don’t mistake it for me being emotional. I have no interest in making friends with her, or anyone. I only trust my butler, as he is employed to be trusted. I won because I am intelligent and unaffected by feelings and bonds and other nonsense. If I couldn’t survive by myself, or cracked under pressure, I wouldn’t be here.”

Byakuya sat back.

“You have not seen my full potential yet, Father,” he added. “I will show you I am worth more than a talking cow.”

That was what I told him. I told him that I had been bribed, and that was why the invader usurped Byakuya’s place.

“You are to address me as Togami-sama,” I said, and I took his silence as acknowledgement.

We continued in near silence, gradually losing more and more pieces. Soon I had a king, queen and pawn left, and he had his king, queen and three pawns left. As I waited for him to make his next move, a thought gnawed at me until I could barely tolerate it and I curled my lips.

“I’ve been wondering about something for some time,” I said, peering at him. “Tell me... I noticed that in your tasks, you undercharged your customers and had unnecessary expenses. Why?”

Byakuya nudged up his glasses.

“You mean the free healthcare? I was making a profit, and I am already very rich. I can easily afford it,” he said.

“But why?” I pressed.

“Why not? It’s barely a dent in my pocket and yet for some people, it’s life-changing. If they’re doing business with me or providing labour, then why not? I’m not a person who takes pleasure in the misfortune of others, and they can’t help it if they’re not as brilliant as I am. Besides, I don’t need the world’s wealth to know that I’m a genius and better than everyone else, Togami-sama.”

He was a strange child. While he didn’t trust others and severed all emotional ties with everyone else, he seemed to have no qualms about providing support for them... to an extent. We would have to work on that, but for now, we continued to play.

The game seemed to be approaching a stalemate.

But then,

“Checkmate,” said Byakuya, thirteen years old, and I knew that for better or for worse, he would take the conglomerate where it had never gone before.

***

“Father.”

On hearing that voice, Byakuya looks up and swivels his chair around. In the doorway of his home office stands his son, around eleven years old, with pale grey eyes and purple hair, but he has his father’s nose and his father’s frown.

“Yes?” says Byakuya.

His son, Aloysius, raises the book in his hands.

“I was wondering if there are more diary entries other than these?” he says.

Byakuya’s eyes flicker, and his lips pinch together.

“Those were the only parts I could salvage. The place was almost entirely destroyed,” says Byakuya.

He still remembers the ruins and how the pages were singed as he cradled the book in his hands. His father’s former mansion still smelled like death when he entered, and Makoto voice’s calling to him had sounded like the wind outside.

‘Shut up. I’m busy. Go bother Kirigiri for another ten minutes.’

‘Togami-kun...’

‘I said leave me alone. You’re more annoying than usual.’

‘All right, Togami-kun. We’ll be waiting for you outside. Come out when you’re ready.’

“Then can you tell me what happens next?” asks Aloysius, breaking through the walls that had started to set around Byakuya.

Memories from so many years ago partially resurface, and they run down imaginary walls like crayon melting on a radiator. The scene crumbles away as he returns to the present. Byakuya fixes his eyes on Aloysius. He’s the same age that Byakuya had been when the competition started.

Those don’t exist anymore. In fact, the conglomerate doesn’t even exist, but Byakuya has something more valuable. A family that loves him and a family he loves back, as hard as it is to voice at times.

Byakuya stands up. His chair creaks.

“Let’s go to the living room,” he says. “And get your mother... she’s in the bedroom.”

Aloysius’s face lights up and he darts out of the room. Byakuya stares out of his window at a blue sky. His parents married for formalities, but him... he married a person full of love, someone brilliant and loyal, and importantly, someone he chose for himself and who chose him, even when the Togami name didn’t mean anything to the rest of the world anymore.

He turns away and leaves the room, shutting the door behind himself.

In the living room, Aloysius tugs his mother’s arm, and as Touko sits down on the couch, looking around in confusion, Byakuya recalls his father’s last entry and decides this is definitely for the better.

#byakuya togami #danganronpa #fanfiction #one shot #kijou togami #touko fukawa #but she's right at the end #togafuka

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kuriquinn · 7 years ago

Text

Never Tell Me The Odds [3/31]

Temporary Blanket Disclaimer

AN: I am still not completely sold on this chapter, but it’s better than what I had written before, so I’ll go with it. Unedited. Also, burgeoning hints of NaruSaku in this chapter and this chapter only, but it’s not endgame, and it’s there for a reason.

Warnings: Description of panic attacks and associated symptoms; somewhat racist/ignorant comments from OCs, also lead-up to a physical assault which may cause victims of robbery/harassment/assault to possibly feel triggered. You have been warned.

Beta Reader: No one but me just yet.

First Chapter

Chapter Three: Chemistry

Sakura’s acceptance to Harvard is a shock, a sudden upset to Sasuke’s carefully crafted future which he didn’t see coming and didn’t think to prepare for. She never even told him she had applied, and whenever they’ve discussed the future lately it’s gravitated around the all-but-established understanding that they would be attending Keio together.

To know that she’s thinking of going somewhere else, he is overcome by an instant, acute sense of panic.

Which is why when Sakura asks him for advice, he has to fight his first instinct, which is to tell her the one thing he knows would stop her from going: that she won’t be able to handle it. Sakura has always had trouble with self-confidence, and if he were to tell her he doubted her abilities, she would instantly abandon the idea.

Within a half-second of thinking it, he immediately experiences a pit form in his belly and a shiver of wrongness up his spine.

Sakura is kind and good and smart, and she is more than capable of succeeding wherever she goes. One day she is going to be a world-renowned doctor, and she should go where she can get the best education possible. More than that, he thinks she would thrive in any of the college’s programs. If anyone’s happiness is important to him, it’s Sakura’s.

Though she isn’t aware of his mental lapse, he tries to erase it by immediately telling her that she has to go.

But his brain is already racing, trying to figure out how he can let her achieve her own greatness without giving her up entirely. He barely notices her mutter something about dinner and leave, because he is on his computer, scouring Harvard’s website and making notes about the admission process on a nearby notepad.

It’s March now, and their graduation mere weeks away; the second round of applications is over. There is a third round in April, which means he would probably know for sure by May…which is not ideal, since third round applications mean fewer acceptances.

But it’s an option.

Within a matter of hours, he has prepared his own application and portfolio and then picks up his phone to text Sakura—only to decide that it’s better not to say anything until he knows.

She never said explicitly that she had decided on Harvard, and there’s an infinitesimal chance I don’t get in. Getting both our hopes up will help no one.

No, it’s better to wait and see. At least until he finds out exactly what her plans are. Until then, it’s better to act as if Keio is still their default. If anything, he can ask her about it tomorrow.

Except, he doesn’t see Sakura the next day.

Or the next.

With this puzzling fact compounded by Sakura not returning his texts or inquiring emails, Sasuke decides to head over to her house to see her. Not because he’s worried (even if he is), but because her birthday is next week and he wants to make arrangements with her. There’s an escape room that’s just opened near the downtown core, and it looks like something they’d both enjoy.

When he gets to Sakura’s home, he finds his way in barred by Kizashi.

“Sorry, Sasuke, Sakura’s not feeling great today,” he tells him, sympathy on his face but a strange firmness in his tone that leaves no room for argument. “She’ll catch up with you when she’s up to it.”

The door is already closing on him before he has entirely processed this; puzzled, he turns and walks away from the house. It’s almost unheard of, Sakura not wanting to see him, sick or not—he was even allowed to visit her the year she had mono. There are only two instances she ever refused to see him, both times when she had food poisoning.

Maybe that’s what it is, he decides, shrugging off his uneasy feeling. And if it’s not…well, girls are weird. However much he cares about Sakura, he’s the first to admit that she has some strange quirks. Maybe she’s doing one of those cleanse things he finds so ridiculous.

He’ll ask her about it when she’s back to normal.

サスケ

To his eternal shame, he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. By then, the damage is done.

It’s not as though he and Sakura live in each other’s pockets, so it takes him a few days before he realises that something is very wrong. By then, the new world order has been established and stretches into the final weeks of their school year.

She doesn’t answer the door when he comes by on Monday morning, which he supposes means she’s sick, until Mebuki tells him that she’s already left with Ino. When he arrives at school, Sakura is ensconced on the other side of class, surrounded by a bunch of rambunctious girls and she doesn’t even look at him.

He tries to speak to her between classes, but there is always a wall of chatting, laughing girls around, and when he gets close Shikamaru and Chōji are suddenly there to tell him the teacher needs to speak with him or Shino wants to go over their homework questions before handing them in for class.

It doesn’t end there.

When he does work up the courage to try to breech the wall of people, with the eyes of everyone on them, she always has excuses not to meet him for studying or one of their rambling walks in the park. When he asks her about it by text or email, all he receives in return are one-word texts and emoji assurances that everything is fine or she doesn’t have time.

Frustration mounts with every day that passes, and then there’s that baffling encounter at in the school hallway. The chill-inducing news that she’s moving to another country—that she has decided on Harvard after all—and her mystifying declaration that she intends to find “something more than…than this.”

And then Ino whisks her away again.

Once he’s recovered from the shock, Sasuke’s brain starts working again, zeroing in on the common factor in all of this.

Harvard.

Girl friends.

Avoiding him.

Ino.

The universe may be conspiring against him communicating with Sakura, but Ino is another matter entirely. They both take Economics this year, and so before she can pack up her books and head to her next class, he corners her.

“What did you do to Sakura?” he demands.

Ino gapes at him, first in shock, but this is quickly overtaken by anger. “Excuse me? What did I do to Sakura? You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he replies. “She’s avoiding me. And every time I try to ask her why, you and your cabal of nattering hens show up to keep me from getting near her.”

Ino sniffs. “Then maybe you should take the hint.”

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

“No, you’ll tell me, now.”

“Or what?” Ino snaps. “You’ll get your father to torpedo my family’s company or something? You don’t scare me, Sasuke-kun. And even if you did, I still wouldn’t tell you anything because Sakura doesn’t want me to.”

“I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“Why?” Ino challenges.

“Because she’s…” he trails off, hesitating when it comes to finding the right word to describe what Sakura is to him.

Ino crosses her arms, frowning at him like she’s trying to decipher something. “Is this you trying to convince me you actually care about her?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands, because of all the stupid statements in the world, he never figured Ino to be the one to voice that particular one.

“She’s my best friend, it’s my business. And you’re sort of my friend too, so let me give you some advice: if you care about Sakura even a little—more importantly, if you respect her, you need to back off. She’s working through something right now and needs space, and every time you get close to her, you mess her up.”

This brings him up short.

“Mess her up,” he repeats, uncomprehending.

“You two need to learn how to be apart without falling apart,” Ino goes on. “I won’t argue that there’s always been something between you two, but over the years it’s gotten unhealthy. So, back off a bit. And trust her to approach you when she’s ready to.”

She sweeps away then, leaving Sasuke pondering exactly what she means.

The suggestion that his behaviour is somehow hurting Sakura gives him pause, as it’s the last thing he wants. If what Ino says is true, Sakura will explain it all when the time is right. And it’s entirely possible that Ino could be right about the other thing—if Sakura goes to Harvard, and Sasuke doesn’t get in, then they will have to get used to being apart.

So, perhaps this is practice for the future. Looking at it in utilitarian terms like that, he can better accept it. He’s still a little annoyed Sakura couldn’t just tell him that to his face, and he intends to tell her so when he next speaks to her, but until then, he can give her what she wants.

Space.

He thinks.

Just in case, though, he accepts his father’s suggestion of working a part-time data-entry job at the company during his free time. Father thinks it shows initiative, wanting to get to know the company before starting work there, and Mother says he’ll learn how to network and make new friends.

“Better you than me,” Itachi snorts when Sasuke tells him the news, and then forces him into an apron to help him serve during the lunch rush.

The whole ploy is only semi-effective. While Sasuke carries out his duties with ease, his work hours and study hours taking up whatever time isn’t spent sleeping, he’s very conscious that there’s some element missing.

Some person.

The last weeks of school rush by, and then exams, and then he’s accepting his high school diploma. There’s barely time to speak to Sakura at graduation—as valedictorian and the winner of several prizes that year, she has a lot of hands to shake and people to thank. Mother somehow manages to snap a picture of the two of them together, but there’s about a foot of distance between them and the whole two minutes are sickeningly awkward. Sasuke is almost relieved when Itachi shows up to congratulate him, and suddenly the entire event is overshadowed by his father’s glowering disapproval and mother’s insistence that they should leave now.

This more than anything puts a dent into his decision to give Sakura space, because he has never felt awkward or uncomfortable in her presence before, and feels to him as if a physical constant has been grotesquely altered.

At the end of May, Sasuke gets his acceptance from Harvard. His father isn’t exactly pleased about it, but grants that Harvard is a world-renowned school and it will look good for the future if he goes. And, even Itachi couldn’t get into Harvard.

(Sasuke doesn’t bother pointing out Itachi wasn’t interested enough to try.)

Sasuke decides that day that enough is enough and he will talk to Sakura today, even if he has to sit outside her home until she walks through the door. He pockets his acceptance letter, and also brings along an offering of dango from Itachi’s restaurant.

(Because she likes sweets, and not because he’s trying to endear himself to her.)

Kizashi answers the door, looking surprised to see him.

“I need to speak to Sakura,” Sasuke tells him. “It’s important and I’m not going anywhere until she comes out to speak to me.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” Sakura’s father says, bemused. “She left for Boston this morning.”

“She…left,” Sasuke repeats, uncomprehending.

Kizashi scratches his cheek. “I thought it strange you didn’t come see her off.”

“I didn’t,” a voice grumbles, and then Sakura’s mother is framed in the doorway as well. “I thought he was being sensible for once. Whatever you did to my daughter, you should leave her alone. It’s unkind to string someone along, young man, and I hope this is a lesson to you.”

“String…?”

“Now, hold on, Mebuki, you don’t know what happened,” Kizashi protests. “Sakura never said anything had happened—”

“I didn’t need her to say it, I sensed there was something. A mother always knows, after all.”

“Maybe, but you can’t just—whoa! Kid, are you alright? You look pale.”

Their voices seem to be coming from far away, and his knees appear to be rebelling against holding the rest of him but, but Sasuke simply turns away.

“I’m fine,” he answers, his throat feeling like knives with the effort needed to make that sound neutral.

Sakura’s parents might call after him, but he doesn’t hear them.

He doesn’t really notice anything after that, one moment bleeding into another, until he is abruptly back in his brother’s restaurant, breathing into a paper bag.

His lungs burn with every gasp for breath around the lump in his throat, heart racing so fast he expects it to just give out, and the world spinning in a sickening swirl of colour. His entire frame is shaking, and he hasn’t had a panic attack so bad since he was eight and a drunk driver nearly robbed him of his family.

While his parents and brother fought for their lives in surgery, he was left alone in a waiting room surrounded by relatives talking about what would happen to the company if Fugaku died. No one cared that he was sitting right there, and that his family weren’t dead yet. He had such a severe reaction that they needed to sedate him. After it was over, his relatives mocked him for his panic and even after he recovered, Father chided him for losing his composure.

He’s kept such weakness at bay for years, and even Sakura has never seen him in such a state. He had thought he’d conquered it by now, but judging by the letter clenched in his hand and the crushed package of dango on the floor, he hasn’t.

Eventually sounds permeate the rushing noise in his ears, and he makes out his brother’s voice.

“Sasuke, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“She didn’t say goodbye,” Sasuke replies dimly. It should explain everything, but apparently this concept is too beyond his supposedly genius brother, because over the next fifteen minutes Itachi keeps teasing small details out of him.

It’s annoying, but it forces Sasuke to focus.

While Shisui boils water for tea, Itachi slowly pries out the whole story, which takes a while because every time he opens his mouth, Sasuke expects he might throw up. The nausea that has been lurking behind his frustration the past few weeks appears to have exploded, and his chest aches like it’s been scraped out by a spoon, and he has the absurd, infantile impulse to burst into tears.

Eventually Itachi sits back, a confused expression on his face.

“I know Sakura, and it would have to be something pretty serious to happen for her to leave you without saying goodbye,” Itachi tells him quietly. “She’s been in love with you since you were little kids.” Sasuke nods jerkily at this, which makes Itachi raise an eyebrow. “You’re…not surprised by this.”

“It was understood,” Sasuke says, concentrating on enunciating every word. “She didn’t exactly hide it.”

“So, all this time, you two have been together?”

“Of course.”

Itachi shakes his head, frowning in something like disappointment. “Then what could make the kindest, most understanding girl in the world not tell her boyfriend she was leaving the country.” Sasuke scowls. “What?”

“That’s such an insipient word.”

“…Boyfriend?” This time it’s both of his eyebrows that raise heavenward, and then comprehension dawns. “Sasuke…can I ask you something?”

“You—”

“Don’t feel the need to point out that I just did.”

“Tch.”

“In all this time—all this planning of yours, encouraging Sakura to do her best and succeed and you keeping her nearby so you could have a future together—did you ever, even just one time, tell her how you feel about her?”

“She knows.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“She has an IQ of 170, she’s not stupid.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Itachi replies slowly. “But sometimes people—women especially—require certain things to be stated in specific terms. So, I’ll ask you again: have you ever, in your entire relationship with Sakura, told her that you…have feelings for her?”

“…”

The world seems to crystalize around him and it’s as if something audible clicks into place.

“Oh.”

Itachi exhales tiredly and hands Sasuke the cup of tea. “Tell me everything that happened the last time you spoke to Sakura.”

Curious if there’s something he missed, Sasuke forces himself to concentrate, casting his mind back to the last few face-to-face interactions he’s had with Sakura. When he relates her question about dating, Itachi inhales sharply, and as he points out his argument about Sakura needing to go to Harvard because there was nothing here for her, Shisui’s hand slaps against his forehead.

“Sasuke…just…think about how all that sounded,” his brother suggests tightly.

“To a normal person that doesn’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon,” Shisui adds.

Sasuke is quiet, factoring in what he knows of Sakura’s temperament, and how, based on past experience, she may have interpreted what he said to her.

His eyes widen.

“Shit.”

“I think that’s an appropriate assessment,” Itachi agrees wearily.

“Face it, kid, you fucked up,” Shisui says with a whistle.

“I can fix this,” Sasuke says decisively, and stands up. “A simple explanation should clear this up. And if she won’t answer me by conventional means, the airport isn’t far. I’ll go to Boston and find her and tell her in person.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” his brother says.

This brings him up short. “What?”

“You mean aside from all the practical, logistical details?” Shisui deadpans, but goes quiet when Itachi sends him a warning look.

“For two reasons,” Itachi goes on. “First of all, Sakura obviously needs some space to recover. She did leave for a reason. If you thinking she’s just left you behind without warning effect you like this, chances are she’s going through her own difficulties. I imagine what you said to her broke her heart.”

Sasuke begins to protest, but Shisui interrupts. “Itachi’s right. And that’s something that will have to heal before she’s in the right mind to listen to you again. She might be angry, she might be sad, but she’s definitely going to be hurt. And people don’t like to be around the things that hurt them, much less listen to whatever groveling you intend to do.”

“The second reason is for your own sake,” Itachi continues.

“…My sake?”

“Sasuke, you just had a panic attack when you realised Sakura was gone,” his brother points out gently. “That’s only one example of an extreme reaction. We are a family that is run by our emotions and temperament. You wouldn’t want to do something to harm Sakura.”

“I would never harm Sakura,” Sasuke snaps, disgusted.

“Not intentionally. But I think before you pursue her, you should be very sure of what it is you want to pursue, and whether it’s even healthy for you. Both of you. Right now, from what I’ve seen, you are heavily dependant on her. It’s unhealthy. And I take some responsibility for that.”

This temporarily distracts him. “You?”

“I wasn’t around enough when you were younger,” Itachi explains, apologetic. “I didn’t encourage you to make other friends or teach you how to be alone in a healthy manner. You’ve never even had a friend before Sakura or outside of her. And even that’s a different case, because you’ve made clear that she is more than your friend.”

“The point he’s trying to make is, if you’re going to go halfway around the world, it shouldn’t just be to follow a girl,” Shisui interjects “Go for your own sake, and your own future.”

“Sakura is my future,” Sasuke replies without hesitation. This is as basic a fact to him as the concept of plants converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.

“She’s part of it,” Itachi shakes his head. “She’s not all of it.”

Sasuke clenches his fist in frustration, trying to hide the sudden wave of vulnerability and exhaustion that settles over him. “So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Well, if you’re set on Harvard, term starts in August. I’d say you have three months to figure it all out,” Itachi says.

サクラ

Term might not start until August, but Sakura ends up glad she and Ino decided to spend the summer settling in to their new home.

The first few weeks are spent in a whirlwind of activity, as Ino’s parents help the two of them move into their dorm and learn to navigate the vast, sprawling campus that is Harvard. She is so busy learning where everything is located and which administrator she has to speak to for help with her courses and how the transit system here works, that she barely has time to call her parents, let alone other people.

Specific other people.

There are half a dozen unopened emails from Sasuke in her inbox, which hover reproachfully at the back of her mind even as Ino’s parents ferry them through city tours and furniture warehouses. She’s been meaning to contact him since landing in Boston, but every time she gets up the courage, anxiety over what he might say rears its ugly head.

At least she doesn’t have to worry about text messages anymore, since her phone doesn’t work here. She doesn’t have to ask Ino to screen them anymore, which she hated doing.

None of this assuages her guilt, but at least her eventful days can put it out of mind temporarily.

Just because term hasn’t started doesn’t mean she and Ino are left on an empty campus. As soon as they arrive, they are introduced by their dorm advisor to the other suitemates. There’s Tenten, a friendly and forthright girl from Hong Kong, who introduces herself right away.

“I’m going to be an Applied Engineer,” she tells them without needing to be prompted. “What’s the point of building stuff if you can’t actually use it?”

Then there’s Temari, an aloof young woman with an accent Sakura can’t quite place, who reveals noncommittally that she’s studying government.

“It’s what my family does,” she states, and will volunteer no more.

Finally, there’s Karui, a proud native of New York who intends to major in both Mathematics and Women’s Studies.

“I couldn’t decide which one I preferred, so I’ll just do both,” she says, when the other girls’ express amazement at her ambition (and minor horror at the course load she’ll likely face).

Then Sakura has to spend ridiculous amounts of time in government offices, going over last-minute student-visa information, finding out how she can legally get a job while she’s there (she may be on scholarship, but it’s never too late to start saving for her medical program!) and then actually looking for work. It boggles the mind how many people look at her in amazement because she can actually speak English.

Why would I be going to an American college if I couldn’t speak English?

Eventually she finds one of the big bookstores in the area is hiring, and it’s not the best job out there, but the hours are flexible and they tell her she can cut back or add depending on her schedule in the fall.

“Most of our employees are students,” the hiring manager tells her with a shrug, and a tone heavily implying a high turnover rate.

Another month goes by, and still Sakura can’t get used to how strange it is not to be communicating with Sasuke. Whenever something new happens in the dorm room or she sees something he would think is amusing or interesting, she reaches for her new phone to text him about it—but then forcibly stops herself. She knows if she does, it’s only a matter of time before she opens the floodgates to their unhealthy relationship once more.

サクラ

She’s heading home from work one summer evening, when she becomes aware that she is being followed. There’s a half-dozen guys hanging outside one of the student-frequented pubs, drinking beer and whistling at girls who walk past.

“Hey, she’s one of the pretty ones!”

“Nee-HOW!” one of them calls at her, the sneer obviously meant to be endearing but making her want to hiss as she walks by.

The behaviour is juvenile, and makes Sakura roll her eyes, but she becomes a little wary when their inebriated jokes don’t fade away. Two of the raucous young men have followed her.

“Hey! Sweetheart! Come back with us, we’ll buy you a drink!”

“Yeah, we just wanna show you a good time!”

As she crosses one of the streets that short-cut to the campus, her gut sinks to find the road is empty.

“Hey, don’t be so stuck up,” someone says and she feels an unwelcome touch on her backside one moment, and then another someone is grabbing her bag. “Come on, take a break from studying!”

Sakura’s body moves on its own, one hand snapping out and dragging the guy closest to her backward, shoving him onto his back. A combination of natural clumsiness, surprise and alcohol result in him falling flat on his back, and before he can recover she aims a kick to his groin area, then his face. She’s just winding up for the third blow, when his friend tackles her from behind, arms going around her.

Her elbow juts into his solar plexus, and he doubles over, gasping for air, she reaches over her shoulder, grasps his arm and bends into his body, living him over her shoulder and flipping him onto his back as well. She stomps down on the second guy’s gut enough to hobble him, and takes off before any of their friends show up.

Her heart beats in wild panic as she half-walks, half runs away, adrenaline and dismay warring for supremacy. She’s alright—aside from a bruised fist when she hit against something that wasn’t bone, she’s uninjured—but the incident itself is shocking. Her entire frame shakes and she has the bizarre urge to cry, and her hands are already scrambling for her phone to call Sasuke.

She might even start dialling his phone number from memory, when she senses a presence behind her.

Whirling around, fist raised and knees bent to ward of any one else who might attack her, she instead finds herself face to face with a tall, blond guy her age.

“Hey—hey, relax, I’m not going to hurt you!” he cries, hands up where she can see them and maintaining several feet of distance between them. “I came to see if you’re alright. I saw the whole thing from down the bloack, but couldn’t get to you in time---not that I needed to, apparently. You did a great job on those dicks.”

Sakura’s eyes dart around, just in case, but he appears genuine. There are more people around now as well, so if he tried anything, all she’d have to do is scream.

“If you want to file a report, I’ll back you up,” he goes on. “Those guys are scum.”

“I…” she begins, and then swallows. “I don’t know. I have to…”

She has a sudden vision of her actions coming back to her, and having her scholarship revoked or something equally disturbing. Immediately after, a vision of those louts doing the same thing to another girl—one who doesn’t have the ability to fight them off.

Sakura squares her shoulders. “Yes. I have to report this.”

“I’ll come with you. It happened on campus, so we have to go to the campus police,” he offers. When she hesitates, he points in the direction of the campus, “That way. In full view of lights and security cameras and other people.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

“After what just happened, you’re not being rude, you’re being smart,” he shakes his head. “Especially considering it could have been a lot worse. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m…fine,” she says, though she feels anything but fine.

She’s still shaking from the adrenaline, and he seems to notice, because he starts to talk. About everything and anything, completely random complaints about traffic in Boston to his roommates obsession of hockey to the clam chowder he had for lunch that day.

As they wander, she slowly volunteers a few things about herself, her brain gearing down from its sudden burst of quick thinking earlier. At some point she mentions calling her parents and then worrying about the time difference, because his expression brightens then.

“You’re Japanese!” he declares, and then to her surprise, he switches to her native tongue. “So, are you actually a student here, or just walking through our overpriced campus for the bragging rights?”

He has a bit of a weird accent, and he ends his sentences with dattebayo, but it’s endearing somehow.

“I’m a student here,” Sakura confirms. “And you speak Japanese very well.”

“I should. My parents moved to California from Tokyo when I was a kid. They spoke it enough around me that I picked it up, but I’ve never had anyone but them to practice with,” he grins. “You’ll help out, won’t you…?” His eyes go comically wide. “Oh, crap. I just realised, I forgot to introduce myself—I’m Naruto Uzumaki.”

Sakura blinks. “That’s…quite a name.”

“Yeah, I’ve wondered about it for years. Either my parents were really stoned and hungry, or they chose the name out of the nearest book. What about you?”

“Haruno Sakura. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise!” Naruto beams. “I bet we’re going to get along great. Especially because, seeing what you can do, I promise I will never, ever mouth off to you, okay?”

This elicits a startled laugh from her, and a little of the weight from earlier lifts.

There ends up being no one in the office when they get there, meaning Sakura will have to wait until the next day to file her report, but Naruto promises to meet her there in the morning if she needs him.

“I might be half asleep when I get here, because I don’t really do mornings, but I’ll totally be there—believe it!”

She’s still not feeling entirely herself, though, and she lets him walk her to her dorm.

The minute she gets upstairs to her room, she has her phone in her hands and stares down at the screen, thumb hovering over the digits to try to decide who to call. Eventually, she decides there’s no point to worrying anyone, not until she’s filed the report. Her parents are too far away to do anything, and Sasuke…

Would he even care?

Immediately she feels a sick sense of guilt over that thought, because she knows that he would. Even if he doesn’t love her romantically, they were (are?) friends and protective of one another, at least in some situations.

No. Telling him what happened can’t be the first thing I say to him after not talking for so long. Ugh, why did this become so complicated?!

She throws herself back on her bed in frustration, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

At some point, Ino returns to their room, toweling off damp hair. “So, I noticed you didn’t come back here alone.”

The comment is far from innocent.

“Yeah, that’s Naruto,” Sakura replies easily, ignoring the implication.

“He’s cute. In a dopey, cinnamon roll puppy kind of way.”

“Don’t do that, Ino.”

“Do what?”

“Start with the matchmaking,” Sakura retorts, throwing a pillow at her friend. “I’m not in the mood. Really not in the mood. We only just met, and besides, I’m not ready for any kind of relationship.”

“Why not? The best way to get over a broken heart is a rebound boy.”

“Clearly you’ve never actually had your heart broken, or you wouldn’t say that,” Sakura retorts.

サクラ

As it turns out, though, friendship with Naruto is instant and easy. It’s almost seamless.

From the morning when he waits to meet her and helps file her report, providing a witness statement and grousing at the university employees for making them wait for results (which apparently they’ll be informed of by the dean’s office “at some point”), he’s another new fixture in her life.

They have a lot of things in common, from a guilty pleasure of watching WWE and the Princess Gale movie franchise, to spending entire afternoons at a fair and sampling as many different cuisines as possible. When she’s not hanging out with Ino or the girls in her dorm, she spends her free time with Naruto, either out on the campus or in his dorm’s common room. There always seems to be some kind of gathering or activity happening there, which she enjoys though she imagines it will make studying hard come fall.

Her new friend also has a tendency to get into scrapes—and drag her along with him.

He nearly burns down his dorm room with an illegal hot plate one day. Another evening they go for drinks at the local pub, and then drunk-challenge each other to see who can climb the largest tree on campus before security notices them. One night they chase someone’s illegally kept cat through the quad and return him to the owner.

She nurses him through a spring cold that has him moaning and complaining and utterly useless, and plays video games with him on his console, though she doesn’t let him win. They people watch, making up stories for strangers, and text memes to each other over Facebook. He shows up in the mornings with coffee and donuts for her, takes Ino’s attention off her when her friend’s overbearing and overprotective nature sometimes becomes more to bear and purposefully acts like a clown when he notices she’s sad.

Which still happens, more than she’d like.

Naruto is her rock, offering her support she didn’t even realise she was missing, even before losing Sasuke.

And yet…

There’s still a hole.

Some essential element is still missing.

There’s no chemistry between her and Naruto; no spark, no romance.

It frustrates her, because there should be. He’s funny and kind, a little rough around the edges, but it makes life interesting. At the end of the day when she returns to her dorm, she always has a smile on her face, shaking her head at his most recent antics. He is what any girl would want, and just based on their relationship, it should be possible for them to fall into something more than friendship. She suspects he wants that, and thinking on Ino’s words, doesn’t she deserve to try that?

I do, she tells herself. This is the something more I was looking for, right?

She resolves herself, deciding it’s all just a matter of effort. The age-old maxim “fake it until you make it” could apply here.

And so she dresses up a little more, taking care in her appearance before they go out. She lets Naruto link their arms when they ramble through the campus, and when he insists on feeding her his favourite ramen “because it’s amazing, Sakura, believe it!” she lets him. She invites him to join her and Ino at karaoke, and they croon horribly off-key 80s power-ballads at each other. One day he surprises her by taking her roller-skating, which she hasn’t done since before she met Sasuke. It’s cliché and cheesy, but she sort of loves it, in a different way than she loved geocaching or boat trips with Sasuke. She drags him to the museums in the area, trying to share her interests with him, and though she can tell it’s not his thing, he’s still enthusiastic for her sake. He offers her his hand as they stroll through the sculptures and oil paintings

And if his hand doesn’t fit hers the right way, the way Sasuke’s did, well that’s because he’s a different person. She’ll get used to the way this feels.

And if she doesn’t really miss Naruto when she doesn’t seem him for a few days, then that’s healthy, right? She goes an entire week without hearing from him beyond a few texts and images shared over Facebook, and she barely pauses in her plans with Ino.

But she still routinely checks her emails and texts for news from Sasuke and tries to ignore the scraping, clawing feeling in her chest and throat at the fact he doesn’t even reach out to her anymore.

This is what I wanted, she tells herself, even as it rings hollow in her thoughts.

One night, a week before term officially begins, she and Naruto meet up on their way back to campus. They grab ice cream on the way—even though Naruto is lactose intolerant and always pays for his little indulgences violently the next day—and wander through the courtyard. Eventually he steers them over to a bench where they finish their ice cream and then, there’s a sudden silence between them.

It’s uncharacteristic, because they’re never really quiet together, and Sakura shifts nervously, unsure what to expect. When Naruto leans in, like he’s going to kiss her, and she is conscious she’s supposed to lean in now, too.

That’s how it works. Your first kiss. You’ve dreamed about this.

But it feels wrong.

There’s a pit in her stomach that won’t go away and she feels like crying.

This isn’t who she’s supposed to be sharing it with.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Naruto, because she does. She cares deeply about him and he has quickly become one of her favourite people. He might even be as dear to her as Ino is.

However, the idea of kissing him doesn’t bring her a thrill. Now that she thinks it through, having him put his arms around her makes her feel safe and comfortable and cared for, but there’s no stimulus when they touch. No breathless feeling, no universe coming to a standstill, no electricity racing over her skin, and no sense of reaching out for a missing piece of herself.

And if that was meant to happen, shouldn’t it have already?

It’s been months of spending time together as friends and if it was meant to happen, shouldn’t it have already? Is it fair to Naruto to keep trying if she doesn’t feel for him?

Then again, I might not now, but maybe in the future?

But…what if in the future she doesn’t? And then they both have their hearts broken and she loses his friendship?

But what if I lose his friendship right now for rejecting him?

He’ll be gone and she’ll have that hole again.

Except…the hole never really got filled to begin with, did it?

The questions and anxiety flit around her brain in an endless circle, freezing her like a statue as she desperately tries to sort all this out.

Naruto notices her pause, and pulls back.

“It’s not meant to be, is it?” he asks her, sounding sad.

“I…”

“You’re still hung up on that guy.”

“Wait…what?”

“Ino told me about him. Sounds like a real bastard, honestly, but what can you do? I had hoped…but I get it.” He shrugs and smiles, and despite a tinge of sadness, it’s still his usual open, wonderful smile.

A smile that doesn’t belong to her.

Not in the way she expects. She sees that directed at everyone, because he is friendly with everyone and a good guy. He’s kind and open and always trying to be everyone’s friend, encourage them to do better, to call on him when they need someone. In a way, Naruto shares himself with everyone, and that’s a great quality.

But there’s a tiny, selfish part of Sakura that believes two people in love share something only amongst themselves.

When Sasuke used to smile at her, it was for her. When their eyes met, there was always a shared moment, just between the two of them, like they had a secret no one else could ever know. And that was with him spectacularly ignorant toward her feelings; her heart still flutters at the idea of him loving her like she loves him.

Oh.

‘Loves’.

I’m still in love with him, she realises. But…it’s been months. The more time passes, the less I should…

The urge to cry increased, but she doesn’t know if it’s more in sadness of frustration with the whole situation.

I’m a horrible person. Here we are, I’ve just rejected him, and all I can think about is Sasuke. What the hell is wrong with me?

“I understand if you don’t get it, or if you don’t want to be friends anymore,” she mumbles, looking down at her feet.

“Of course I still want to be friends,” Naruto says, puzzled. “It sucks, yeah, but it would have been worse if you didn’t say anything. Besides. I sort of get it.”

“R-really?”

“Well, not the being hung up on another guy thing. From what Ino said, he sounds like a clueless moron,” Naruto disdains, and Sakura snorts in bitter laughter because she can’t argue. “But feeling like you really connect to a person in a way you can’t with anyone else? I get that.”

Sakura cocks her head to one side, curious.

“I’ll tell you about it another time,” he tells her. “The point is, you can’t help who you have chemistry with. I just hope that, if you can’t find it with me, and if you didn’t find it with him, one day you find it with someone. Anyone.”

Sakura sighs. “I don’t think it’s that easy…”

つづく

If the progression of Naruto and Sakura’s relationship seems fast, it’s intentional. This happens over a period of months and remember, this story is based on Sakura and Sasuke’s relationship. This chapter is just to take a look at what they’re doing while they’re missing each other and unable to find that “other half” feeling with other people. We may just get to see a reunion next chapter, depending on where my editing muse chooses to take me…

栗

Next Chapter

#ssm17 #ssm17d3 #sasusaku #narutofanfiction #au #college au #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #itachi uchiha #ino yamanaka #shisui uchiha #naruto uzumaki #drama #angst #friendship #sasusakumonth #chemistry #misunderstandings #missing piece

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creoit · 3 years ago

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Brand Experience - iPad Father's Day Mania!

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During my iPad Apple Mania enjoy I recorded some twit casts and filmed a brief video. My husband was embarrassed and made me shut if off. I didn't want to argue because it changed into Father's day.

#new

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yogaposesfortwo · 4 years ago

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Meet the Next Generation of Yoga Changemakers

These young yogis—representing Gen Z—are changing the planet through peace, love, and compassion. Many are quick to tsk-tsk “kids these days” for nonstop smartphoning and a self-centered attitude. But this most-diverse generation, with nontraditional views on everything from identity to power structures, is more conscientious than you would possibly think—and that’s very true for these five up-and-coming yoga teachers (most of whom started practicing before they hit double digits). prepare to be inspired.

Tabay Atkins: Showing us the way to follow your dharma, because the country's youngest yoga teacher

By Meghan Rabbitt

Tabay Atkins Age: 14 Lives in Maui, Hawaii My yoga model is my mom, because she beat cancer. My biggest accomplishment thus far is graduating highschool at age 14. My favorite teaching moment was once I led a yoga class with Tao Porchon-Lynch, the oldest living yoga teacher. She told me, “Keep doing what you’re doing, and stay faithful you.” In the year 2030, I’ll be teaching, traveling the planet , and sharing my love of yoga and veganism with as many of us as I can. Yoga is for everybody . Yoga isn’t about stepping into the “best” pose. I wish more yogis would realize the amazing benefits of a plant-based diet. The promise I make to myself a day is to be the simplest version of myself that I are often . It was a complete fluke that six-year-old Tabay Atkins found himself with a stack of coloring books within the corner of a San Clemente, California yoga studio. His mom, Sahel Anvarinejad, had just finished treatment for non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and showed up there for what she thought was a tea date with Carolyn Long, a lover of a lover who’d sent countless texts and emails with supportive and galvanizing messages during her cancer treatment. Long had asked Anvarinejad to satisfy her at her studio without exactly clarifying that they’d be doing quite having tea. “I had only been cancer-free for 2 weeks, and once I walked into the studio that night, i used to be so skeptical of yoga,” says Anvarinejad. “I wanted to run out. But something told me to remain .” Long had a plan—albeit a rather sneaky one. What were the probabilities that Anvarinejad would suggest meeting on the precise day and time that her studio’s yoga teacher training was starting? Didn’t that mean she was meant to hitch the training—to find out how yoga could be a neighborhood of her post-cancer healing journey? Anvarinejad felt resistant. She’d never even done yoga before, and now she was getting to join an educator training? But Long was persistent. So, Anvarinejad signed up—if a touch reluctantly. Before the second class, she tried to bail because she didn’t have childcare for her young son. “Bring him!” Long told her emphatically. Which is how Atkins ended up in yoga class thereupon stack of coloring books. Except Atkins did more watching than coloring that day. The next, serving as a prop helper for the trainees, he delivered bolsters and blocks to their mats as required . Then, Atkins started trying a number of the postures from the sidelines, too. “A few days every week , i might practice with my mom,” says Atkins, now 14. “She’d inquire from me to remind her the way to do the poses, and that i would show her. a tremendous transition happened from the start to the top of my mom’s training—there was this super-change in her. Before yoga, she’d been sad and scared then low on energy and mobility due to the intensive chemo. After the yoga training, she was happy again—back to her old self, but better.” While most second graders might simply be psyched to possess their mom back to normal, Atkins wanted more: He wanted to urge certified to show , too. “I wanted to assist people the way yoga helped my mom,” he says. “There were numerous people within the single bed next to her who didn’t even realize yoga. i assumed if I could share this amazing practice, others could find an equivalent quite healing and happiness, too.” A Teacher is Born During her training, Anvarinejad often considered how grateful she was that her son was being introduced to yoga—and what proportion she could’ve used the practice when she was a toddler . due to all of the strain kids face at college , with friends, and reception , she decided that the right thanks to get her teaching legs under her would be to volunteer at her son’s school. She taught during gym classes and after school, and shortly parents started posing for private lessons and summer yoga camps for his or her children. Within a year, Anvarinejad opened the primary kids’ yoga studio in Orange County—and Atkins was right by her side, a self-proclaimed “helper” at age eight. “My mom started getting various certificates to concentrate on kids’ yoga—like the way to teach kids on the spectrum, teaching tweens and teenagers , and even restorative yoga—and I joined her for all of these ,” Atkins says. He was seven when he got his first yoga certificate, to show autistic kids, and a couple of years later, he found himself helping his mom lead a category at a faculty for autistic children in San Francisco . The principal warned Atkins that the youngsters he was close to teach were susceptible to violence and shouldn’t make physical contact with him or each other . But when Atkins started chatting with his peers, they were calm and captivated. When he led the scholars through a partner exercise—and they happily leaned on one another as they held Tree Pose—the principal and therefore the teachers within the room started crying. “They couldn’t believe what was happening,” Atkins says. “But I did. I thought, This just goes to point out you all how capable they really are.” After that experience, Atkins was officially sold on teaching yoga; it had been another pivotal moment that propelled him forward on his teaching journey. When he was 10, he completed a 16-day, 200-hour yoga teacher training and officially became the youngest yoga teacher in America. During Atkins’s training, it had been Anvarinejad’s address sit within the corner of the studio and fetch props and snacks for the scholars . “It was amazing to observe Tabay undergo the teacher training experience himself, then much fun watching him surprise everyone—including his teacher!—with his knowledge of the practice and true interest in learning more,” she says. Immediately after he graduated, Atkins started teaching at the studio his mom owned, and offering donation-based classes, with all proceeds getting to organizations that support kids with cancer. How to accept No Regrets Every morning, Atkins wakes up and does a brief flow together with his mom—typically some Sun Salutations and a couple of favorite poses, like Tree Pose and Crow Pose. They each name what they’re grateful for, too—a practice Atkins credits with reminding him of the transformative power of yoga and therefore the honor in sharing its benefits with others. “It’s so amazing to ascertain students walk into my classes looking exhausted and leave feeling energized and more alive,” he says. “But what I’ve realized is that it’s one thing to share the practice and another to measure it.” Enter his commitment to eating vegan—a concrete way he says he puts the principle of ahimsa (nonviolence) into practice. It’s a method Atkins says he lives his favorite mantra: Think good thoughts, speak kind words, feel love, be love, and provides love. “In this world immediately , we all got to do more of this,” he says. “There’s not enough love going around.” But if you recognize where to seem for love—and stay hospitable the moments when it'd spontaneously appear—you’ll find it, Atkins says. To wit: the kismet that was his mom—and him—finding yoga. Atkins says he often cares how life may need unfolded differently had his mom not suggested she meet Long just when yoga teacher training was starting. He considers how different her path post-cancer may need looked and the way the course of his childhood likely would have taken very different turns. “It’s all proof that everything happens—or doesn’t happen—for a reason,” Atkins says. “By living with this mindset, I won’t regret anything.” That’s to not say Atkins is watching life unfold because it will; he’s pursuing opportunities to spread the facility of yoga far and wide. “I think the longer term is so bright for my generation,” he says. “We’re educating ourselves and our parents. We’re walking our own paths and doing things differently. We’re trying to shake things up by coming together to speak about things like how our choices affect our surroundings .” “I see yoga helping us still do that in even bigger and better ways—and I’m so grateful to be a neighborhood of it.”

Ashley Domingo: Using Technology to Create Yoga Experiences for Gamers

By Bria Tavakoli

Ashley Domingo Age: 23 Lives in Portland, Oregon My yoga model is my teacher Rosie Acosta. She is that the most real person i do know , but at an equivalent time, the foremost mystical. My biggest accomplishment thus far is completing my 500-hour training and teaching within the space where I first started my journey. My favorite teaching moment was when an in depth friend told me she experienced an emotional release in one among the primary classes I taught. In the year 2030, I’ll be creatively fulfilled and ready to help my loved ones with whatever they have . Yoga is being here, now. Yoga isn’t only about embodying love and light; it's the acceptance of the opposites also . I wish more yogis would realize you don’t need to be the entire shebang—vegan, wearing Alo leggings on Instagram, drinking a smoothie for breakfast every morning—to be a “yogi.” If you've got a body and you'll breathe, you'll be a yogi. The promise I make to myself a day is what I call No Zero Days: a day I do something to maneuver toward being the person i would like to be. Some days I’ll move a mile, some days I’ll move an in. . Some days I’ll have time to try to to a 90-minute practice; some days i'd just roll in the hay my legs up the wall for a couple of minutes as my asana practice for the day. It doesn’t matter how big the move—as long as it’s not a zero. Ashley Domingo skipped college in favor of yoga teacher training and real-world job experience. Today, she’s creating a virtual yoga program for gamers that suffer from stress, anxiety, and depression. Growing up, Ashley Domingo was an honest student and an ingenious free agent with a love of crystals and tarot cards. As an adolescent weary of the criticism she was receiving from her hip-hop dance teachers, she started exploring yoga on her own through YouTube and other apps. That was the straightforward part. The not-so-easy part was choosing to forgo college, despite good grades and sky-high family expectations. “My mom was salutatorian of her highschool and went back to the Philippines to offer an interview about the importance of education,” says Domingo, who teaches yoga at her office and informally to friends. So embarking on yoga teacher training rather than attending a university was certainly off brand for her family, with whom her relationship was tumultuous. She felt sort of a disappointment to her parents, she says, who didn’t understand what she wanted to try to to together with her life. Five years later, she credits yoga with helping create a shift in perspectives—both hers and her family’s. Love initially Savasana At 19, Domingo took a full-time job working in insurance, where she started taking weekly beginner yoga classes at her office. “After that first Savasana, i used to be hooked,” she says. So she began to seek out a studio where she could explore her curiosity and deepen her practice. One teacher, she recalls, read poetry aloud at the top of her class. “It felt so safe and open,” says Domingo. “It was so different from the fear and judgment I faced in dance class.” it had been that warm feeling of acceptance that nudged her to become an educator . “I wanted to make that environment, because I knew what proportion it had been helping me with courage and clearing self-doubt.” She went on to try to to just that. After completing her 200-hour training in 2018, she began teaching the exact same class where she’d once found such comfort and relief from workday stress. Top of Her Game Last year, news of a high-profile player’s suicide rocked the web video-gaming community, during which Domingo had been a participant since 2010. (A 2017 review of fifty observational studies published within the Journal of Health Psychology found that depression and anxiety were particularly prominent among gamers.) Domingo recognized that her online peers needed “the tools to recollect their self-worth and value outside of the persona they show online,” she says. In response, she’s creating a month-long virtual yoga and meditation program for gamers, complete with meditations, asana, and instructional videos on topics starting from the importance of rest to how yoga can improve focus. She hopes to launch the series, dubbed “Bringing Peace to the Keyboard Warrior,” this year. “I know tons of my friends are very hard on themselves, and that i can give them more tools—and guide them through some exercises which will help. patiently ,” she adds, “You can do belongings you didn’t know you'll .” And she’s speaking from experience. At last, she says, “I desire I’m within the right place, and that i trust that.”

Maris Degener: Setting an example for how to work through anxiety, depression, and eating disorders

As told to Meghan Rabbitt

Maris Degener Age: 21 Lives in Santa Cruz, California My yoga model is Susanna Barkataki, for her commitment to using yoga’s teachings as a vessel for social change. My biggest accomplishment thus far is saying “yes” to recovering from my disorder . My favorite teaching moment is whenever I desire I’ve created a secure container for college kids to be their own teachers. In the year 2030, I’ll be doing the simplest I can with what I’ve learned so far . Yoga is unity. Yoga isn’t a contest . I wish more people would realize that this practice may be a thanks to hook up with healing and compassion, to not “fix” you or cause you to feel unworthy. My Favorite Mantra I can do hard things. Words of wisdom I live by “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” —Dr. Luther King, Jr. The promise I make to myself a day Try your best and roll in the hay pityingly . I’d been out of the hospital for just a couple of days, on bed rest reception , but still skeptical of why I’d needed to be hospitalized within the first place. i used to be 13 years old, and albeit the doctors and nurses showed me my weak vitals on the machines surrounding my bed during my three-week stay, I still couldn’t grasp how sick I was—how much damage I’d done to my body by not eating. So, after I’d been discharged, despite my strict bed-rest orders, i made a decision to try to to a pushup. I wanted to prove i used to be strong. I climbed out of my bed and came to my knees on the carpet beside my night table. How hard could this be? i assumed . I slowly placed my hands on the bottom beneath my shoulders and inched my feet back to urge into Plank Pose. I dropped to my knees, immediately realizing I couldn’t support my very own weight in Plank, including lower myself to the bottom then lift myself copy . therein moment, it clicked: mental disease isn’t an attention-seeking game; it’s a matter of life and death. I knew I had hurt myself, and it had been time on behalf of me to heal. Hello, Yoga? It’s Me, Maris When I was within the hospital, the doctors and nurses told me how important it might be on behalf of me to urge my strength back without strenuous exercise. Yoga was a logical choice, and once I noticed a replacement studio had opened near my hometown—and they were hosting free classes on Sunday mornings—I asked my mom if I could provides it a try. I got there embarrassingly early and ended up lecture Jenni Wendell, the studio owner and therefore the teacher that morning, before class. I’ll always remember how seen I felt by Jenni, which definitely took the sting off how absolutely overwhelmed I felt before and through that first-class . i used to be getting back in-tuned with my body and learning what it had been wish to be present. There was tons happening , like trying to maneuver into the varied postures and learn the various Sanskrit words. i used to be lost within the chaos of it all, except for the primary time in my life, I didn’t feel overwhelmed by that fact. Yoga gave me permission to not have it all found out . And Jenni met me exactly where i used to be . There was such a lot to find out and no finishing line . There was no competition or prompt for comparison. I realize now how lucky i used to be to fall under a studio where these beautiful tenets of yoga were emphasized. After that first-class , Jenni gifted me a yoga mat. it had been her way of creating sure I knew that my presence really mattered. Jenni cared if I came back—and not just during a business sense but during a way that felt to me like this person genuinely cared that I showed up. What i do know now's that when you’re handling depression and anxiety—and I grappled with both, starting at such a young age—you don’t believe that folks care if you’re around. the very fact that Jenni, a stranger, was caring on behalf of me felt revolutionary. Let the Healing Begin I desire my hospitalization and first chapter of my anorexia recovery were focused on the physical, which mostly involved ensuring i used to be eating enough calories and getting back to a healthy weight. once I found yoga, I wasn’t during a precarious place with my health. Still, that first yoga class was really challenging. In some ways , yoga felt sort of a clean slate , which was so nice after what I’d been through. I became a faithful student, getting to multiple classes every week , and after a couple of months, I got employment at the studio’s front desk. One day, Jenni told me she was performing on producing the studio’s yoga teacher training, and she or he offered me a scholarship to hitch . i used to be in awe of the practice and my teachers, but i assumed Jenni was crazy—I thought there was no way someone my age could teach yoga. Jenni described that she was designing the training to be more sort of a study group, where we’d study the philosophy of yoga and the way to integrate it into our lives, additionally to the way to teach. Now, I see that Jenni wanted me to hitch the training to assist me integrate yoga into my life beyond the 75 minutes i used to be thereon mat she’d given me. When I taught my first-class therein training, Jenni said she’d never seen me look so joyful. Something changed in me; all I wanted to try to to was expire what had been given to me. My teachers emphasized that the work of the yoga teacher is to expire what you’re learning, which suggests the simplest teachers are the simplest students. This gave me permission to be a vessel for the practice to return through; the way my teachers instilled that sort of humility in me cleared the way for my voice to emerge. I reflected on the teachers who’d had the foremost impact on my journey. The common thread? Their willingness to be vulnerable with me. They were human—always willing to return to my level and say something like, “Oh, I’ve experienced that, too.” They held space on behalf of me and didn’t attempt to “fix” me. And in being their authentic, beautiful selves, they inspired me to try to to an equivalent . My Story—on the large Screen When a filmmaker from my hometown who knew about my struggle with anorexia approached me about being during a documentary she wanted to form about eating disorders, all I saw were red flags. I’ve seen numerous films about eating disorders and are disappointed and unnecessarily triggered by them. Most of the documentaries romanticize skinny bodies. Some would go away me feeling like there was no hope for full recovery. Worse, many actually served as a guidebook to fuel my disease. (That woman ate only X amount of calories? I should eat less.) “Yoga Helped Me Remember Who I Am—and Dream about Who i would like to Be” I shared all of this with the filmmaker, and she or he really listened to my points and promised me that we’d create something different. I told her I didn’t want to speak about my weight or diet or show any pictures from the time i used to be sick. I wanted to urge to something deeper—with attention on my catalyst for healing, which was finding my practice. i assumed of my yoga teachers’ vulnerability—and the strength that shone through because of it—and I aimed to point out up with an equivalent quite truth they’ve always showed me. In i'm Maris, we mention my journey, yes. But what we actually tried to try to to is urge people to seek out their thing—the thing that speaks to their version of healing. When I hear from people who’ve watched the film, what seems to possess resonated the foremost is that the power of vulnerability. I feel closest to people when they’re vulnerable with me first. In making this documentary, I need to be that friend—the one who exposes in order that others can, too. And if I even have given even one person permission to share their story or reflect on their own experience, I desire the gift is mine. You never know what your journey—or even just your presence—might mean to someone.

Maryam Abdul: Teaching yoga and being a doula has helped her heal her community

Maryam Abdul Age: 23 Lives in l. a. , California My yoga model is @Yogi_Goddess Phyllicia Bonanno on Instagram. She’s an unapologetically black yogi who shows that there's representation within the community for black women doing this practice. My biggest accomplishment thus far is preparing and launching private yoga and birth doula businesses. My favorite teaching moment is when my students or friends say they feel better, more open, and calmer from the yoga. In the year 2030, I’ll be hosting yoga retreats, opening a yoga and wellness studio and a birth center within the Watts/South Central LA community—plus a juice bar. i would like such things to be accessible to members of my community. Yoga is your own journey together with your body and mind. Yoga isn’t alleged to only be this super-beautiful, on-the-beach, Handstands-and-splits practice. I wish more yogis would realize we've the liberty to be as creative with our yoga as we would like to be, and that we can explore more parts of ourselves. Be very gentle with yourself therein exploration. We don’t got to be hard on ourselves. Just a couple of years ago, Maryam Abdul was a sophomore in college, feeling disconnected, depressed, and anxious. “I had no sense of purpose. I felt lost and confused. Like I didn’t belong,” she says. What led her to become a significant yoga student was the motivation to reclaim her body after a sexual assault: “I lost myself— i used to be a shadow. I didn’t have anything to rest on , because I had let everything that was good on behalf of me go.” That included elements of her Islamic faith, which she says paved the way for her to eventually find yoga. Almost four years after the assault that rocked her foundation, Abdul is rooted during a solid, clear sense of purpose and mission: to help underserved communities, specifically the South Central l. a. neighborhood of Watts where she grew up— an area she calls a food desert with few outlets for yoga and wellness activities. Last year, at age 23, Abdul began training to become a yoga teacher and a doula almost simultaneously. almost like midwives, doulas provide mental, physical, and emotional support to mothers during pregnancy, delivery, and even miscarriages, and help their clients navigate a health care system that disproportionately fails black women. Abdul’s passion and curiosity had led her to review the medical industry’s early-20th-century effort to regulate , pathologize, and institutionalize black midwives—which has negatively affected birth complications among black mothers. Armed with this information, she enrolled during a local doula educational program . “We see an enormous disparity in black maternal death and infant deathrate ,” she says. “Meanwhile, stress is literally killing black mothers. i exploit yoga and meditation with my doula clients to cultivate peace and calm—with an intention to combat the statistics. i would like my people to measure , and live well. And that’s why I do what I do.” —BT

Natalie Asatryan: Bringing yoga to kids so she can change the world

Age: 15 Lives in l. a. , California My yoga model is 101-year-old Tao Porchon-Lynch, who proves yoga are often practiced at any age. My biggest accomplishment thus far is raising money for charities by teaching donation-based yoga classes. My favorite teaching moment was once I led my high school’s eleven through a yoga class. -In the year 2030, I’ll be a yoga teacher, student of yoga, and doing whatever I can to form the planet a far better place. Yoga is that the unity of the mind, body, and soul. It’s an indoor and external experience at an equivalent time. Yoga isn’t about striving to be perfect. I wish more people would realize how important it's to share yoga with the younger generation, because it might make humanity better. My favorite mantra is Om, because the buzzing of the “m” is that the eternal sound of God that lives within you in every breath. How cool is that? Words of wisdom I live by Be kind—but also courageous. The promise I make to myself a day I’m getting to do my best with what I’m given today, and whatever else happens, happens. Natalie Asatryan was five years old when she learned the way to really breathe. She was in her first yoga class—at an area studio crammed with other kindergarteners—and the teacher told them to imagine that they were hot-air balloons and had to light a fireplace in their hearts and breathe deeply so as to fly. “Then, when we’d lay in Savasana, the teacher would tell us to be as loose as noodles, and if our muscles weren’t tense when she picked up our legs and gave them a wiggle, we’d get a sticker,” says Asatryan, now 15. “My Generation goes to Run the planet Soon. The More folks Who Do Yoga, the Better” At age 12, Asatryan would continue to become the youngest girl to become a 200-hour certified yoga teacher. How did that happen? We asked her to offer us the backstory. Author: Yoga Journal Staff Source: https://www.yogajournal.com/teach/meet-the-next-generation-of-yoga-changemakers Discover more info about Yoga Poses for Two People here: Yoga Poses for Two Read the full article

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madminniefics · 7 years ago

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Six months after graduating from Tulane University, Sadie Neal is on a one-way trip to Buffalo, New York to start her first real, big girl job with the local professional hockey team, the Buffalo Sabres. The problem? Sadie knows next to nothing about hockey. They use pucks, not balls. They wear skates, not cleats. And they play on ice, not grass. That’s it. How is she supposed to represent them on social media when she doesn’t even know what icing means outside of baking?

Louis Tomlinson (#91 / RW) is coming off a career high season (79 games, 20 goals, 30 assists, 50 total points) that he’s trying to recreate. The goal: Lord Stanley’s Cup. There’s a magic in the locker room that feels like it could be their year. He stays focused by keeping hockey and his personal life separate. Everyone knows that.

Everyone except Sadie.

Bright Eyes / chapter one

When Sadie got off the airplane, the freezing air blowing in from between the cracks of the jet way made all her little hairs stand on end. The breeze blew snow up from the ground, swirled it around the windows, before dropping it back to the concrete and starting over. She shivered, rubbing her bare hands together, as she walked to the baggage claim. She was a long, long way from home. It was almost a different country.

A long way from sun beating down on her skin, warming her entire body as she tilted her head towards it, welcoming the heat. A long way from bikini’s in November and shorts year-round. From sipping fruity drinks with your toes in the sand and sunglasses on your face. Did it even get warm in Buffalo?

What she wouldn’t do to be back home in the unbearable heat and humidity. Matter fact, what she wouldn’t do to be somewhere in the middle. Not too hot, not too cold. But noooo. Have an adventure, Sadie. Do something different, Sadie. Do it while you’re young, Sadie. If she could do the last six months over, she would. Was it too late to turn around and go back to New Orleans? Surely the Saints were hiring.

Her hot pink suitcase was easy to spot five minutes after the bags began dropping onto the conveyor belt. She set her light blue backpack down next to her leather duffle bag so she could wrangle her massive suitcase from the baggage platform. It had been a graduation gift from her momma and it was its first time she’d had a chance to use it.

Sadie pouted when she noticed the huge, black stain across the front of her suitcase. Brand new and already ruined. That’s why she hated flying. Humans weren’t meant to be all up in the sky like that. If they had been, people would have evolved to have wings.

Struggling to carry all her bags, she walked slowly towards the door that advertised taxis were waiting outside. Before she knew it, she was in the backseat zipping through the highway towards her hotel. According to an email she received from a ‘Harry Styles’ in human resources, the hotel the Buffalo Sabres were putting her up in for a week was in walking distance from the stadium and it was clean. The second part scared her a bit—to be real, the first part did because it was colder than ice cubes in January and she hated to walk in the cold—because she wasn’t trying to sleep in a dirty bed. Just thinking about what other people did in hotel beds made her want to gag.

She laid her head on the window as she watched the scenery speed by. The traffic was minimal, it was almost 10pm, and they made it to the hotel in less than 20 minutes. What she’d seen of the city before moving there was via the satellite option on Google Maps. So, not much. There was so much green space. It made her happy even though she knew it would all be covered in snow in a few weeks. What surprised her the most was that, at least in the area where her hotel was, was an actual city. It looked like any other city she’d been to. Maybe Buffalo wouldn’t be so bad.

“Thank you so much,” Sadie said as the taxi driver removed her bags from the trunk. He nodded at her before getting back in the car and speeding off. She took a deep breath, grabbed her bags, and walked into the lobby to check in.

There was a busy week ahead of her. So far on her to do list:

Find an apartment and move in within seven days

First day of real work

Learn hockey

Shouldn’t be hard for someone who graduated with honors…right?

///

In the morning, Sadie learned, the hard way, that she’d forgotten to leave the heater on. She huddled under the thin, cheap, hotel comforter for an extra half an hour trying to extract all the heat from its threads. That only left her shivering against cold blankets. At least she’d slept with socks on the night before; something she’d never done before in her life.

Once she got out of bed, though, Sadie cranked the heat as high as it would go (75-degrees) and took the hottest shower she’d ever taken. Her skin was still slightly pink as she walked into the offices in the bowels of KeyBank Center. The walk had been nearly 20 minutes from the hotel to the stadium, partially beneath a highway, which she didn’t consider “walking distance.” She added ‘Talk to Harry Styles about what ‘walking distance’ means’ onto her mental to-do list.

And, to top it all off, her toes were freezing thanks to a freak snowfall the night before. There was less than an inch on the ground and everyone was going about their normal business. Sadie was amazed. Back home, every store, school, and office would close. One inch meant road closures and, sometimes, the whole city shutting down. But in Buffalo, it was just another day. Sadie sighed and pushed her cold feet out of her mind. Before knocking on the door in front of her, she shook her head and replaced her disgruntled look with her signature smile.

The familiar face that appeared from behind the door made Sadie feel just the slightest bit better about her morning. Gabe Sanders, Marketing Director for the Buffalo Sabres, looked like he was having a worse morning than Sadie. She felt for him. She couldn’t imagine how long he’d been living in Buffalo, but she imagined if she had been living there for as long as he probably had she would have that same look on her face all the time. That ‘Why-am-I-here, what-am-I-doing-with-my-life’ type of look. All dead, red eyes, stubble, and bags under his eyes.

“Sadie, hey,” He said, punctuated by a large sigh. Sadie felt his breath on the exposed skin of her hands. She made a mental note to buy a pair of mittens. “Come on, I’ll show you to your cube.”

She struggled to keep from bouncing as she followed Gabe back into a room off the main corridor. There was a multitude of cubicles—too many to count—some with a head popping out, some not. It reminded Sadie of whack a mole. Gabe stopped next to a cubicle with a plastic plaque that read ‘H. Styles’ on the outside and knocked twice. Sitting in the chair was a man with short brown hair pushed back from his face, a white button up Oxford shirt, and brown khaki pants with some sort of brown, casual work shoe. So much brown.

“Harry, this is Sadie, it’s her first day. If you wanna, hook her up with her log in and stuff, I have a meeting,” Gabe said as soon as Harry turned around. “Let me know if you need anything, Sadie.”

She nodded and Gabe took off. She had trouble keeping her emotions off her face. He was just going to leave her like that? On her first day? She knew she sold herself on that Skype interview but…for real? Harry laughed at the anxious look on her face and she blinked.

“I’ll help you log in and direct you to Vic Stephens, one of the marketing assistants. She’ll be able to help you with all the other information you need.”

Sadie let out a breath in a whoosh. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, follow me,” He said, standing from his chair and walking two rows over to an empty cubicle with a plastic plaque that read ‘S. Neal’ on the outside. She bit her lip to keep from squealing. Baby’s first cubicle! She made a mental note to take a picture of herself with the sign later, to send to her momma. “Here’s your cube. You can put your jacket and stuff down and I’ll show you to Vic’s cube.”

Nodding, Sadie dumped her black shoulder bag and her dark green, faux fur lined parka on the chair. She retucked the back of her mint green blouse into her straight legged black pants. Three cubes down sat a woman with long, bright purple hair. She turned around with a massive grin after Harry did a special knock on her cube. Her eyes widened when she saw Sadie.

“New girl?” She said.

“Sadie, yeah.” Harry said.

“Yes! I’m so excited,” This she said towards Sadie. “Marketing is such a boy’s club.”

Sadie chuckled because she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want things to be awkward on her first day and she really wanted to make friends with her coworkers. She didn’t know anyone in the city and that would get real lonely, real quick.

“I’ve got a bunch of stuff for you,” Vic noticed how Sadie’s eyes widened. “To help you get acclimated! Not huge work stuff, not yet. Just some manuals and ‘how-to’ type stuff. They’re in your email already.”

“Perfect,” Sadie beamed. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I’m here for you if you ever need anything.”

Sadie nodded as Harry wrangled her back to her cubicle. He helped her set up her computer and email log in information before leaving with a ‘Let me know if you need anything!’ Looking around at the bare walls of her cubicle, Sadie took out a tiny picture, in a gold frame, from her purse and set it next to the computer. The picture was of a dark skinned man with an impressive afro, in his late-twenties, holding a seven-year-old girl, dressed head-to-toe in Barney clothing, that looked like a clone of the man. Sadie smiled at the picture before pulling her phone out and taking a selfie.

To: Momma

First day 😬

She attached the picture before sending it. Her momma, a notorious early bird, texted back almost immediately. Sadie slipped out of her Vans and wet socks in favor of her gold, sparkly work-appropriate flats before checking her phone.

From: Momma

Hockey 😬

Sadie choked back a laugh. Her momma had made her thoughts on Sadie’s choice of job, location, and organization no secret. Everyone knew that Sadie’s momma wanted her to hold out, to find a job in New Orleans, to stay at home with her forever. But, just as everyone knew that, they also knew that Sadie didn’t want that. She wanted to leave, find her own way, and that meant Buffalo. She’d made a promise and she intended to keep it. And that started by leaving Louisiana.

Setting her phone to the side before she did something ill-advised, like text her momma talking about how much she missed her already, she opened her email instead. There were five messages, all from Vic, all reading URGENT in the subject line. Her breakfast, if one strawberry Danish and a cup of orange juice could be considered breakfast, threatened to make a reappearance. She took a deep breath to calm herself before opening the first email.

///

Sadie was leaning into her computer screen, eyes flickering back and forth as she read through the employee manual that Vic emailed her, when she heard a noise behind her. She snapped around on her rolling chair—her favorite kind of chair—to see Harry and Vic standing in the doorway of her cubicle. She smiled.

“We were wondering if you wanted to go have lunch with us,” Harry said. Sadie furrowed her brow and looked at the clock. She couldn’t believe it was lunchtime already. Nodding, she grabbed her phone, tossed it in her bag, and tossed that over her shoulder.

“Do I need my jacket?”

“No, we’re just going to the cafeteria,” Vic said.

“Cool,” Sadie said, following closely behind Harry and Vic. She looked down each hallway as they walked beneath KeyBank Center. Her lips pursed and she stopped as she looked down a hallway that led to the ice. Players sped in an out of her limited viewpoint through the double doors. How could they skate that fast, not fall, and remember the rules? Sadie could barely rollerblade in a straight line without falling over.

One of the players skated into her eyesight. The way he stood, legs slightly spread, on the ice made Sadie wonder if it was as easy as it looked. Because that man looked graceful there with his large frame being held up by two glorified knives. As if he could sense that she was staring, he turned his head towards her. Shameless, she kept staring. He had an intriguing look about him. She wanted to know what color his eyes were.

Harry noticed Sadie wasn’t walking alongside them anymore and looked back. He placed a hand on Vic’s hand so that she would stop walking before calling Sadie’s name. She shook her head and jogged up to catch up with them without giving the man on the ice another glance.

“They have open practice tomorrow, if you wanted to watch. Call it research for your posts,” Vic said, winking at Sadie. Her face flushed but it was a good idea. While Vic and Harry talked about what they were ordering for lunch, Sadie was thinking about the Sabres player with the captivating stare.

///

What did one wear to an open practice? Was office attire too formal? Was it cold inside the arena? Did she just need a sweater, a long sleeve shirt, a coat? Were a beanie, mittens, and earmuffs too much? Important questions that Sadie had no answers for that morning as she prepared for her second day of work.

In the end, she dressed casually that day in the hopes that she would fit in both at practice and among her coworkers. A pair of navy blue, skinny, cropped khakis paired with a cream button up blouse and a grey cable knit sweater over that. She wore the same flats she had the day before, mostly because they were her only closed-toe, work appropriate shoe. She had a countdown on her phone till her first paycheck. She was going straight to the mall that day.

After she paid her loans, rent, and miscellaneous bills, anyway.

She smiled at coworkers whose names she didn’t know as she walked down the row to her cubicle. Sadie set her bag down on the desk to remove her jacket and scarf. She fixed her blue accent necklace, a gift from her Auntie Donna for graduation, she hung her jacket and scarf on a little hook on one wall of her cubicle and turned her computer on. Practice began at 10 that morning so she had time to check her email and get her things together before heading over to pick a perfect spot.

The supervisor wanted a mockup of social media posts for the next month by the end of the week. Perfect. Sadie decided to take her phone to take pictures to go along with her posts. They would feel more like fan photos rather than professional and Sadie thought that would be good to make the team seem more approachable.

At ten till, Sadie tucked her notebook and favorite pen into her bag and turned the computer screen off before walking over to the stands. She snagged a front row seat, right by the glass a few feet from the goalie, and got comfortable. Placing her bag in the seat next to her, she grabbed her notebook, pen, and phone out.

There were players’ families all around her. Women holding children by the glass while they spoke to their corresponding player. Fans, too. They were sat on the other side of the stadium, though. Sadie smiled as she snapped pictures. She belatedly hoped that it wasn’t weird that she was taking pictures of people without asking. She would look up the specific players’ names later and send emails asking permission.

She snapped a few pictures of the goalie—Payne, number 35—as he stretched and drank some water. Growing bored, she stood and began taking pictures of the other players as they talked before practice started. She was looking through her pictures when she realized two players had skated up to her.

Looking up, her eyes widened when she saw the Man with the Eyes from lunch the day before. He, and his friend, had yet to put their helmets on. She gave his friend—Horan, number 13—a quick once over before settling her gaze on Mr. Bright Eyes. The smirk on his lips combined with the stubble on his face made him look dangerous.

“You looked lonely,” Left-winger Horan said, leaning an arm against the glass. “We thought we’d come keep you company till practice started. I’m Niall.”

“Oh, no I’m fine, thank you! Just doing some work,” Sadie said, fixing them with her blinding smile. Niall blinked twice, mesmerized. “I’m Sadie! I would shake your hands but…”

She motioned at the glass panels between them and shrugged. Niall nodded and opened his mouth to speak before the goalie called his name. He sighed instead.

“Gotta go. Until next time,” He said, nodding at Sadie. She waved cutely before setting her gaze on Niall’s friend. She looked from his eyes to his lips and back before deciding that she didn’t want to be fired on her second day of work. She focused on his eyes instead of the devilish smirk lingering on his lips. She still couldn’t decide what color his eyes were. Blue, that much was obvious, but what shade? It was killing her.

“I’m Louis,”

His gruff, deep voice combined with the British accent hit Sadie straight between her legs. She swallowed hard and took a soothing breath before responding. What would it look like if she was stuttering and stammering in response to his accent? She’d never been thirsty like that and she wasn’t about to start then.

“Nice to meet you,” She smiled, just as the coach blew his whistle. Louis looked back for a moment before training those eyes back on Sadie. She placed a hand on the glass to steady herself under the weight of his gaze. His eyes flicked down to her hand before looking her straight in her eyes.

“See you around, Sadie,” Louis said, winking before skating backwards away from her. He got to the middle before he turned. Sadie bit her lip, shook her head, and sat back down. She picked up her notebook and pen and wrote:

needs to get done

find an apartment and move in within seven days

one month mock up schedule

learn hockey

talk to harry about walking distance

emails asking for permission for pictures

furniture shopping

what color are his eyes???

Tearing the page out of her notebook, she tucked it away in her bag before paying attention as practice began. Whenever Louis skated past her he would look in her direction with a smirk or a nod, making the family members turn to look at her and whisper. She heard a kid ask their mom who she was and blushed. She couldn’t help but think her job just got a lot harder.

#fun fact the colors i used for the 'bright eyes' square both came from louis' eyes :)#louis tomlinson fanfiction #1dff #one direction fanfiction #os: hockey louis #let me know what you guys think!!!

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steampunkfan · 7 years ago

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How I Sold $58,000 Last Year Selling Just Gift Cards for the Day Spa

Editor’s note: This is a guest post by Robert Norberciak, Marketing Director at the Scottsdale, Arizona day spa, Mozaik Skin & Body, and one of the founders at Service Business Hustlers.

People love shopping local. Even more so, people love buying gifts that are local. They want to treat their friends to amazing experiences at local businesses.

With my day spa, I don’t sell anything online except for gift cards. I don’t try to compete with e-commerce stores. I simply focus on the one thing that no one else does in my market well. I focus on making it easy for my customers to buy gift cards.

I had the joy on Mother’s Day to watch a family go into my competitor. They asked if they sold gift cards. The lady was like “No”.

They came over to my spa and walked out with $300 in gift cards that they bought for their mother. Guess who got the new customer?

Each year, I sell close to ~$23,000 of gift cards just online. We sell another $25-35k in-store.

I’m going to break down for you my exact strategy on how I am selling so many gift cards through my website and in-store.

Stop Offering Just Plain Dollar Amounts

If someone is going through the trouble of buying a gift card from a local business — they don’t want to go the easy route and buy them just a gift card. They want to buy them something special. In fact, I have attached a log of all my recent gift card purchases.

Where you see “-”, the customer selected a dollar amount. In fact, 19 out of my last 26 purchases of gift cards have been for packages. People love treating someone to something unique. It’s a win-win for everyone.

The person buying feels like they are treating someone to something special. When the recipient gets the gift card, they enjoy it a lot. They feel someone really put an effort into the purchase.

Do you know what the cool part about selling an experience is?

When that new customer comes with that gift card — they get a full experience from your place. If you give them an award-winning experience, then they’ll love your place forever.

For example, a restaurant might want to do a “3-Course Meal for $49”. You can use John Taffer’s method of identifying that it’s a gift card. You put down a “blue napkin”. The whole staff know it’s a gift card. You go above and beyond to deliver an amazing experience. The food is delivered fast.

Gary Vee and John Taffer talking about retention:

youtube

At the end of the meal, the manager comes over and makes sure everything went great and offers a special on their next visit with a coupon.

Using Pricing Anchors

While most of the time, our customers want to buy packages as gift cards, some still want to buy just a dollar amount. We use two types of pages for our Gift Card Checkouts. The first is the specific package they want to buy. The second is a generic page that we can use to sell generic dollar amounts (in our case $75, $150 and $300).

The prices you pick influence the actual dollar amount the customer is going to buy. If you put prices up $5, $10 and $15 — most customers won’t ask, “Do you sell a $50 gift card?”

Then again, if you sell every gift card from $5 to $500, in $5 increments, the customer is going to have a choice overload and probably pick something towards the bottom.

Pricing Experiments You Might Not Know But Can Learn From

There’s an excellent article on the effect of a pricing anchor. When we created our pricing choices for our gift card, we choose one really high card value and two that are closer to each other. The result is that the majority of our purchases are the middle pricing option.

Make It Easy to Buy Gift Cards

Include a Link in Your Header

Customers are not going to search your entire site to see if you sell gift cards. They want to know right off the bat. Just like you might have links to jobs and careers, you should have a Gift Card link to at least one type of gift card right off the bat.

Go Above And Beyond With Your Links

When you come to our site, you will notice every service menu item has a second link right after “Book Now”. The second link is “Buy as a Gift”.

We make it super easy for the customer to select the package they want to treat someone to. Not only that, but they also are constantly reminded that we sell gift certificates.

Test Your Platform

When picking a platform for your gift cards, it’s absolutely imperative that you test the purchasing path yourself.

When we used our Appointment Reservation system to process our gift cards, we didn’t sell many gift cards. While their platform is amazing at managing reservations, it wasn’t designed for the details around selling gift cards.

It’s a two-page checkout though that includes every possible option to purchase the gift card directly through their page. The complexity of it reduces the overall purchases.

Make It Simple for Your Customer to Buy

Last year, when we did our full website rebuild, we had a custom platform built and implemented into our system to create a super smooth and easy checkout system. Since then, we have sold an additional $15,000 in gift cards compared year over year.

Gift Card Season is 101 Days Away — Here’s Your Action Plan

In the first two weeks of May, I sold almost $4,000 in gift cards for Mother’s Day. The scary thing is, that’s still only 25% of the volume that you are going to do during December!

60–100 Days Out

Start Crafting Packages and Offers

Right now, you need to start preparing your business on which packages you are going to sell. As we have already talked about, people love treating people to experiences. That also means they are willing to spend a little more to get a little more.

We sell robes at the spa. Do you know that 90% of our robe sales are tied to our three major holidays? It’s because we increase our prices and include them in our packages.

This past Mother’s Day, we took our already popular two-hour package, added a robe in and increased the price accordingly. There was no problem selling these increased value packages. In fact, 90% of all the robes we sell are for our three major holidays.

Knock-’em-dead offers

If you are running out of ideas on what are popular packages, start using tools like Groupon and LivingSocial. While you do not want to copy their prices, you can use them as a research tool to discover what packages are hot and trending.

During Black Friday, we would do various types of promotions —

“Buy 3, Get 1 Free”

“25% Off If You Buy Over $100 in Products”

A lot of these people were already asking if they could buy them as gifts.

Black Friday -> Christmas transition

One of the biggest things about selling gift cards well is capturing that transition. For the two weeks leading up to Black Friday, you want to strategically plan ads that fit that shopping day.

Once Black Friday is done, you want to immediately transition into promoting your Christmas Specials. This is why it’s very imperative to have a well laid-out plan, so you can make the transition smoothly.

Pro tip: Depending on how deep you discounted and the popularity of the gift cards, you may want to consider doing an “Extended Promotion — Gift Card Sale!”.

60 Days Out — Start Planting Seeds and Distribution

Build Dedicated Pages for Your Offers With Simple Checkout

Every successful campaign requires a dedicated page for each offer. You want to sell the feeling of that package. You want to make the page easy and simple. We use a one-page and Stripe for our system.

You are going to use the landing page for all your promotional material online. For all your Facebook promotions, your newsletters, etc.

There are many articles on how to do single-product checkout. Ours is a form with a Stripe gateway behind it. We capture the most important information: To, From, Design, Note, the Package. We let Stripe handle the processing, and we send the gift through the emails.

You can also look at some pre-built solutions as well.

Email campaigns and social media

Last year, the very first email I got about Christmas from Groupon was on September 17th.

On my Facebook feed, I have already started to see “Days till Xmas” countdowns.

The sooner and earlier you start to plant seeds into your customer that you will have gift certificates, gift baskets and packages available, the better.

Here are some of the emails that I have sent with success:

2016 Holiday Gift Guide (11/15)

The Insider’s Secret Black Friday Spa Specials (10/31)

Running out of time for a gift? Grab yours today online. (12/21)

Overall, I will send roughly eight to 12 emails between October and November to all my customers to promote the gift cards that I sell.

In-store flyers and A-frame

If you run any type of brick and mortar, you absolutely need to promote that you sell gift cards anywhere and everywhere you can. Do not hold back. Within our spa, we distribute flyers. We leave our upcoming promotions flyer out right by the magazine.

We use flyer stands and have them at checkout, in the bathrooms and by the product.

We create a beautiful A-frame that goes out in front our store. We decorate it with festive colored balloon so it catches the eye.

We even update our window cling to show that we sell gift cards!

The more seeds you plant into your customers, the more likely they will come back and buy. Think about Black Friday. No one wakes up and goes, “Hey, today I am going to buy this!”. No, they already know what they are going to buy seven-plus days out.

AdWords

People still use Google to find gifts. They will type in things on where to buy them gifts, what to buy people, and so on. This campaign doesn’t need to be very elaborate because quite frankly, if you are in the local space, it’s easy to beat your competition.

Target keywords Like: “Portland Day Spa Gifts,” “Portland Massage Gift Card”.

“Portland Spa Packages & Gift Cards Available. Buy Online, Instantly Available.”

You will then send them to that pre-built landing page you have already designed for an easy online purchase. Guess what your competition isn’t doing? They are taking shortcuts and hoping the customer figures it out.

Last Two Weeks

Make sure your receptionists, front desk, staff and your whole entire team is ready to push gift cards.

Every time someone is checking out — “Were you interested in any of our Gift Card Packages?”

If your staff hear people are saying keywords like they have family in town, or that they are visiting — “Hey, I’m not sure you know, but we do have some really cool gift cards available during the Holidays.”

Help your customers out — don’t let them try to figure it out themselves. If someone needs help buying a gift card, just simply walk them through it. All too often, I see businesses be like, “Yup just go online and buy it”. Out of the hundred times I hear that, maybe two will buy it actually.

Final Pro Tip

Optimize your website, your social profiles like Facebook and Yelp to include the fact you sell gift cards. We don’t rank for any of main categories #1, but we do for gift cards. Guess what happens when someone in my city is looking for gift cards? They come to me.

You can join me and four other service business founders who generate over $3 million a year, where we share information like this daily. Come join us: Facebook Group Service Business Hustlers.

via Preneur Marketing Blog http://ift.tt/2vl1dWp

#Preneur Marketing Blog

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topicprinter · 7 years ago

Link

How I Sold $58,000 Last Year Selling just Gift Cards for the Day SpaPeople love shopping local. Even more so, people love buying gifts that are local. They want to treat their friends to amazing experiences at local businesses.With my day spa, I don’t sell anything online except for Gift Cards. I don’t try to compete with eCommerce stores. I simply focus on the one thing that no one else does in my market well. I focus on making it easy for my customers to buy gift cards.I had the joy on Mother’s Day to watch a family go into my competitor. They asked if they sold gift cards. The lady was like “No”.They came over to my spa and walked out with $300 in gift cards that they bought for their mother. Guess who got the new customer?Each year, I sell close to ~$23,000 of Gift Cards just Online. We sold another $25,000 in-store.https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/800/1*O5avpnrL4eQfF-zwuMEIBw.pnghttps://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/800/1*EMW9Tlvbzr-AwdDkhV7O_w.pngI’m going to break down for you, my exact strategy on how I am selling so many gift cards through my website and in-store.Stop Offering Just Plain Dollar AmountsIf someone is going through the trouble of buying a gift card from a local business — they don’t want to go the easy route and buy them just a gift card. They want to buy them something special. In fact, I have attached a log of all my recent Gift Card Purchases.https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/800/1*UWN1xB1rXL_yYtgdmVsQVQ.pngWhere you see “-”, the customer selected a dollar amount. In fact, 19 out of my last 26 purchases of gift cards have been for packages. People love treating someone to something unique. It’s a win-win for everyone.The person buying feels like they are treating someone to something special. When the recipient gets the gift card, they enjoy it a lot. They feel someone really put an effort into the purchase.Do you know what the cool part about selling an experience is?When that new customer comes with that gift card — they get a full experience from your place. If you give them an award winning experience, then they’ll love your place forever.For example, a Restaurant might want to do a “3 Course Meal for $49”. You can use Jon Taffer’s method of identifying that it’s a gift card. You put down a “blue napkin”. The whole staff know it’s a gift card. You go above and beyond to deliver an amazing experience. The food is delivered fast.Gary V & John Tapper Talking about RetentionAt the end of the meal, the manager comes over and makes sure everything went great & offers a special on their next visit with a coupon.Using Pricing AnchorsWhile most of the time, our customers want to buy packages as gift cards, some still want to buy just a dollar amount. We use two types of pages for our Gift Card Checkouts. The first is the specific package they want to buy. The second is a generic page that we can use to sell generic dollar amounts (in our case $75, $150, $300)The prices you pick influence the actual dollar amount the customer is going to buy. If you put prices up $5, $10, $15 — most customers won’t ask “Do you sell a $50 gift card?”Then again, if you sell every gift card from $5 to $500, in $5 increments, the customer is going to have a choice overload, and probably pick something towards the bottom.Pricing Experiments You Might Not Know, But Can Learn FromThere’s an excellent article on the effect of a pricing anchor. When we created our pricing choices for our gift card, we choose one really high card value & two that are closer to each other. The result is that the majority of our purchases are the middle pricing option.Make it Easy to Buy Gift CardsInclude a Link in Your HeaderCustomers are not going to search your entire site to see if you sell gift cards. They want to know right off the bat. Just like you might have links to jobs & careers, you should have a Gift Card link to at least one type of gift card right off the bat.Go Above & Beyond with Your LinksWhen you come to our site, you will notice every service menu item has a second link right after “Book Now”. The second link is “Buy as a Gift”.We make it super easy for the customer to select the package they want to treat someone to. Not only that, but they also are constantly reminder that we sell gift certificates.Test Your PlatformWhen picking a platform for your gift cards, it’s absolutely imperative that you test the purchasing path yourself.When we used our Appointment Reservation system to process our gift cards, we didn’t sell many gift cards. While their platform is amazing at managing reservations, it wasn’t designed for the details around selling Gift Cards.It’s a two page checkout though, that includes every possible option to purchase the gift card directly through their page. The complexity of it reduces the overall purchases.Last year, when we did our full website rebuild, we had a custom platform built and implemented into our system to create a super smooth & easy checkout system. Since then, we have sold an additional $15,000 in gift cards compared year over year.Make it Simple for Your Customer to BuyGift Card Season is 101 Days Away — Here’s Your Action Plan.In the first two weeks of May, I sold almost $4,000 in Gift Cards for Mother’s Day. The scary thing is, that’s still only 25% of the volume that you are going to do during December!60–100 Days OutStart Crafting Packages & OffersRight now, you need to start preparing your business on which packages you are going to sell. As we have already talked about, people love treating people to experiences. That also means they are willing to spend a little more to get a little more.We sell Robes at the spa. Do you know that 90% of our Robe Sales are tied to our 3 Major Holidays? It’s because we increase our prices and include them in our packages.This past Mother’s Day, we took our already popular two-hour package, added a robe in and increased the price accordingly. There was no problem selling these increased value packages. In fact, 90% of all the robes we sell are for our three major holidays.Knock Em Dead OffersIf you are running out of ideas on what are popular packages, start using tools like Groupon & LivingSocial. While you do not want to copy their prices, you can use them as a research tool to discover what packages are hot & trending.During Black Friday, we would do various types of promotions —Buy 3, Get 1 Free.25% off if you buy over $100 in Products.A lot of these people were already asking if they could buy them as gifts.Black Friday -> Christmas TransitionOne of the biggest things about selling gift cards well, is capturing that transition. For the two weeks leading up to Black Friday, you want to strategically plan ads that fit that shopping day.Once BF is done, you want to immediately transition into promoting your Christmas Specials. This is why it’s very imperative to have a well laid out plan, so you can make the transition smoothly.Pro Tip: Depending on how deep you discounted and the popularity of the gift cards, you may want to consider doing an “Extended Promotion — Gift Card Sale!”60 Days Out — Start Planting Seeds & DistributionBuild Dedicated Pages for Your Offers w/ Simple CheckoutEvery successful campaign requires a dedicated page for each offer. You want to sell the feeling of that package. You want to make the page easy & simple. We use a one page + stripe for our system.You are going to use the landing page for all your promotional material online. For all your FB promotions, your newsletters, etc.There are many articles on how to do single product check out. Ours is a form w/ a Stripe gateway behind it. We capture the most important information:To, From, Design, Note, the Package. We let Stripe handle the processing, and we send the gift through the emails.You can also look at some prebuilt solutions as well.Email Campaigns & Social MediaLast year, the very first email I got about Christmas from Groupon was on September 17th.On my Facebook Feed, I have already started to see “Days till Xmas” countdowns.The sooner and earlier you start to plant seeds into your customer that you will have gift certificates, gift baskets, and packages available the better.Here are some of the emails that I have sent with success:2016 Holiday Gift Guide (11/15)The Insider’s Secret Black Friday Spa Specials (10/31)Running out of time for a Gift? Grab yours today online. (12/21)Overall, I will send roughly 8–12 emails between Oct & November to all my customers to promote the gift cards that I sell.In-Store Flyers & A-FrameIf you run any type of Brick & Mortar, you absolutely need to promote that you sell gift cards Anywhere & Everywhere you can. Do not hold back. Within our spa, we distribute flyers. We leave our upcoming promotions flyer out right by the magazine.We use flyer stands and have them at check out, in the bathrooms, and by the product.We create a beautiful A-Frame that goes out in front our store. We decorate it with festive colored ballon so it catches the eye.We even update our Window Cling to show that we sell gift cards!The more seeds you plant into your customers, the more likely they will come back and buy. Think about Black Friday. No one wakes up and goes “Hey today I am going to buy this!”. No, they already know what they are going to buy 7+ days out.AdWordsPeople still use Google to find Gifts. They will type in things on where to buy them gifts, what to buy people, and so on. This campaign doesn’t need to be very elaborate because quite frankly if you are in the local space, it’s easy to beat your competition.Target Keywords Like: Portland Day Spa Gifts, Portland Massage Gift Card,Portland Spa Packages & Gift Cards Available. Buy Online, Instantly Available.You will then send them to that pre-built landing page you have already designed for an easy online purchase. Guess what your competition isn’t doing? They are taking shortcuts and hoping the customer figures it out.Last Two WeeksMake sure your receptionists, front desk, staff and your whole entire team is ready to push gift cards.Every time someone is checking out — “Were you interested in any of our Gift Card Packages?”If your staff hear people are saying keywords like they have family in town, or that they are visiting — “Hey, I’m not sure you know but we do have some really cool gift cards available during the Holidays”Help Your Customers Out — Don’t let them try to figure it out themselves. If someone needs help buying a gift card, just simply walk them through it. All too often, I see businesses be like, “Yup just go online and buy it”. Out of the 100 times I hear that, maybe 2 will buy it actually.Final Pro TipOptimize your website, your social profiles like Facebook & Yelp to include the fact you sell Gift Cards. We don’t rank for any of main categories #1, but we do for Gift Cards. Guess what happens when someone in my city is looking for gift cards? They come to me.There is also a full copy of this article with formatting at Blog Post. We also have a discussion going on at about more of these techniques at the FB Group Service Business Hustlers

#/r/entrepreneur #reddit

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