#(<- FREE THINGS FROM MY DAD HE JUST FINDS THEM. HE DID GUITAR REPAIR FOR YEARS.)

[blackmoldmp3]

MY FIRST GUITAR circa like grade 6 was a blue barracuda (??) dupe i named him sting after the glowing blue sword from lotr lmao

#i have a new old electric now idk what to call them. they are branded with a beer company logo like Prominently #(<- FREE THINGS FROM MY DAD HE JUST FINDS THEM. HE DID GUITAR REPAIR FOR YEARS.) #black and white graphics. hmm

[r6shippingdelivery]

headcannons for hobbies? Like what they do on their off time?

Hi nonnie! I actually did a Hobbies HC for “all” ops a long time ago. But seeing that was before the expanded bios, and it only reached up to Gridlock and Mozzie, I’d say it’s time for an updated version, don’t you say? 

Some of the answers are unchanged from the old post, because I already nailed it or the new info didn’t disprove my ideas. But I had to revise a lot of the answers I gave the first time around! In order to find their hobbies and/or get a glimpse of their lives beyond Rainbow and what they might like, I read all the bios, and looked up concept art, and elites, and past battlepass content, etc. And when none of that was enough, I just went with my gut instinct 😂 Thank you to @grain-crain-drain, @dagoth-menthol & @todragonsart for bouncing ideas with me when I was stuck! 💕

Hobbies Headcanons for ALL ops (up to Neon Dawn)

FBI

- Ash: According to her savta, shooting things is not a hobby, but Ash disagrees. And since according to her expanded bio she knows Hebrew, Arabic, English, French and Greek, I’m willing to bet she enjoys learning languages as well. - Thermite: He grew up on a ranch and loves riding. He’s also taken an interest in improving gadgets it seems, so my old proposal that he dabbles in forging/smithing stuff seems plausible. And based on this concept art, demolition derbies attending and maybe even competing himself too? - Pulse: He’s interested in a variety of topics and goes through phases of intense, nearly obsessive focus, until something else captures his attention. He still has a lingering fondness for building muscle cars, since it was something he used to do with his father. And like Thermite and Hibana, it seems he might enjoy demolition derbies. - Castle: He’s a language nerd, studying/reading/practicing new languages is his hobby for sure. Since the expanded bio says he rescues abused dogs, I don’t think it would be far fetched he volunteered at animal shelters too.

SAS

- Thatcher: Aside from repairing his boat, The Iron Maggie, he also enjoys fishing. He used to do that with his dad & brothers, and tried to take the rest of the SAS fishing as a bonding experience. It didn’t go very well - Sledge: He plays rugby, and has an inexplicable fondness of trying the wildest ideas that tend to end with something broken, be it one of his bones or a structure or wall (just read his extended psychological profile and you’ll see, lmao) - Smoke: Boxing, it helps him focus all his chaotic energy. And chemistry in general, it’s not just a hobby but a passion of his. - Mute: he enjoys tinkering with stuff, taking it apart and then putting it back together in a different way, just to see if he can improve it or make it work in his own way. Flying drones plays perfectly into that, with the added bonus of being able to do the flying part just for fun too.

GIGN

- Montagne: His main passion is working with people, teaching and mentoring others, and therefore when he’s not on duty, his main passtime still is mingling with people and getting to know them. I could see him making overtures with Castle, interested in the American and fascinated by his knowledge of various languages, an area Monty feels insecure about due to only knowing French and English.  - Twitch: Engineering, robotics and developing an empathic AI is her life.Twitch is a workaholic passionate about those topics. She also greatly enjoys traveling and, according to her expanded bio, people watching.  - Doc: He surely had some hobby at one point, but he can’t remember it, or the last time he had free time for it. Doc is also a workaholic, although one that loves to complain about it.  - Rook: Apparently he’s passionate about cycling, auto racing, and rock concerts. Mainly cycling though, since he dropped out of university to cycle around France.

Spetsnaz

- Tachanka: He collects and repairs old weapons. Mostly soviet, but he has some interesting pieces from other countries too. And he dances surprisingly well.  - Kapkan: Aside from a certain interest in psychology, his main hobby is hunting, of course. But he also whittles and carves wooden figurines.  - Glaz: Quite obviously, painting. He’s an artist, and quite a good one. He also likes playing cards, especially poker. - Fuze: He builds new weapon prototypes for fun. And tests them, if he can convince Six of it. He also likes to bake from time to time, a skill he learnt thanks to his grandma - and because he has a sweet tooth.

GSG9

- Jäger: Planes. Model planes, repairing old WWI & II planes, you name it. And watching copious amounts of documentaries.  - Bandit: His bike is his main hobby, both taking care of it and riding it. He also likes playing pool; and, if pranking people counts as a hobby, that’s his oldest one, dating from when he was a kid. - Blitz: He was and still is an athlete at heart, and Blitz loves running. - IQ: In order to disconnect from engineering pursuits, she indulges in rock climbing, spelunking, and writing science fiction stories.

JTF2

- Buck: He crafts mechanical puzzles, and enjoys all kinds of physical activity that can take place outdoors. - Frost: She just loves being surrounded by nature, and often goes mountain climbing or diving.

SEAL

- Valkyrie: Swimming and diving, of course! She wanted to be a professional swimmer, but now it’s just a hobby. And apparently she enrolled for a helicopter pilot license, and language classes. - Blackbeard: According to the expanded bios, he likes sailing and even participated in a championship. And since he climbed Mount Everest, it’s safe to say he also likes mountain climbing.

BOPE

- Capitao: He loves football, playing or watching it, doesn’t matter, he’s all for it. - Caveira: Spends a lot of time practicing Jiu Jitsu, in the gym and also on unofficial tournaments.

SAT

- Hibana: For her it’s traditional Japanese archery (Kyūdō). And probably demolition derbies too accounting that concept art from before with Thermite and Pulse. - Echo: According to the expanded bio, he has few interests outside work, but I always imagined he’d be into gaming and e-sports. Hacking too, and that’s a direct influence from Dokkaebi.

GEO

- Jackal: He plays the acoustic guitar/spanish guitar, and sings too. And now we also know he volunteers with at-risk youth. - Mira: Fixing cars is second nature to her, and thanks to her expanded bio we know she also does metal sculptures that incorporate used mechanical parts.

SDU

- Ying: Extreme driving, which can sometimes trigger her PTSD, and traveling. Especially exploring cities by randomly jumping in public transport and just going anywhere. - Lesion: He is also one to volunteer in underprivileged areas (like Junk Bay, where he grew up), and clearing mines and other unexploded devices. I also imagine him with a certain gusto for playing blackjack.

GROM

- Zofia: If obsessing about her father’s supposed suicide and the oddities surrounding it, and desperately trying to reconnect with her sister count as hobbies, sure, she has those. - Ela: She’s also an artist, one with a very particular vision that some have called narcissistic. Apparently she also does some “freelance” volunteer work, roaming the streets at night and offering help/comfort, or a willing ear to the people she meets.

707SMB

- Vigil: He likes to take walks around the forest, just aimless exploring and marvelling at nature and any animals he might come across. Often listens to relaxing music while doing so, and he might pick a pretty rock here and there to bring home. - Dokkaebi: Hacking is her hobby, of course. She also has several social media profiles and is an active member in a couple of hacking forums. As per a previous battlepass, I believe she enjoys mountain trekking too. And dancing to electro beat, due to her elite.

CBRN

- Lion: His rebel years left him with an appreciation for rock music and a dream to be in a group. Lion still plays the electric guitar, when he’s not off volunteering at the local church. - Finka: Pushed by her parents from a young age to try different sports, just like her siblings, she eventually discovered a strong love for fencing and ice-skating.

GIS

- Maestro: Cooking, and boxing, an interest he shares with Smoke. But mostly cooking. - Alibi: She’s also a marksman, engages Ash in friendly shooting competitions.

GSUTR

- Clash: She’s very involved in different activist causes, mostly surrounding racial issues and inequality. - Maverick: Photography, mostly nature or candid shots of his fellow operators. I also think he likes horses and riding. And Buzkashi of course, but he hasn’t played since he left Kabul.

GIGR

- Kaid: Playing chess, he’s a good strategist and it shows. And  while dozing off with a cat on his lap is not a hobby, he also loves that. - Nomad: Traveling to all sorts of remote locations, she’s an explorer with a thirst to prove herself. She also keeps a travel journal, which includes maps and some drawings of the places she’s seen.

SASR

- Mozzie: Dirt biking, of course. The more dangerous the jumps and stunts are, the more he likes it. He knows his limits and works to surpass them. - Gridlock: Robotics. She still wants to compete again in robot championships, just like she and Mozzie did so many years ago. She would consider that fixing cars and vehicles has become more part of her job than a hobby, but still loves it too.

Phantom Sight

- Nokk: Fencing, as evidenced by some of her concept art, she participated in fencing tournaments. - Warden: He knows appearances are important, and he cultivated a very specific image, so he likes to take care of that, be it by buying luxury or antique cars, or designer suits, etc.

Ember Rise

- Amaru: Archeology and exploring the Amazon jungle is her passion. It used to be her whole life and job, but since she joined Rainbow, she’s been busy with training and missions, yet she never lost her love for adventure, history and protecting her country’s cultural artifacts. - Goyo: He’s a really good chess player, and enjoys other games where he either has to think, or his usual poker face and calm demeanor can throw his opponents off.

Shifting Tides

- Kali: When she’s not writing reports about her underlings progress, or making lists about who should be ascended/rewarded, who needs to be punished or chastised, etc, she’ll be doing yoga, since it helps her focus. Or hardcore pilates when she needs to burn away some frustration first. - Wamai: Diving and being underwater in general, be it on his special immersion tanks or on the actual sea, it doesn’t matter. He finds it calming (and he’s addicted to the anoxia sensation)

Void Edge

- Iana: Space exploration fascinates her, and she’s always trying to learn everything she can about the cosmos, watching documentaries and conducting her own in-depth research. - Oryx: Wrestling helps him hone his physical prowess, and it’s also a measured outlet for his deep seated rage. He also greatly enjoys reading poetry.

Steel Wave

- Melusi: She’s committed to the conservation cause, which stems from both her love of wildlife and nature, and her protective instincts. She likes to explore too, although she’s not driven by a will to prove herself or reach certain goals, but simply for the joy of seeing natural spaces. - Ace: Social Media. He’s obsessed with his public image and popularity. While he travels quite a bit, it seems he does it more to share new and exciting selfies on Instagram than for the pleasure of visiting new places.

Shadow Legacy

- Zero: He knits and crochets, it’s an engaging hobby that helps him clear his mind, plus he enjoys making stuff too. Not many people know about this side of him though. 

Neon Dawn

- Aruni: She and Hero, her giant pouched rat, volunteer on landmine detection and removal efforts. She also likes to travel extensively, and has done so in the company of Twitch and Nomad.

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 #headcanons #Anonymous

[quickspinner]

Man’s Best Fang

This wasn’t what I intended to be working on last night, but then @verfound had to go and do this and here we are.

He should have know it wouldn’t be that simple. He should have known, because it was Jagged, and despite being an international rock star, a pioneer in his field, and, apparently, Luka’s biological father, when it came to getting his way, Jagged Stone was twelve fucking years old and absolutely not above glossing over some things if it meant he got what he wanted. And apparently what he wanted today was Luka and Fang out of the hotel suite.

Take Fang for a walk, mate. Nah, it’ll be fine, he loves you! Penny ordered some macarons for ‘im for afterward, so take your time, wink wink.

Jagged rambled something about inspiration but Luka was pretty sure he was getting kicked out so that Jagged could make out with Penny, which was gross on so many levels, especially now that he knew Jagged was his dad and had apparently once done things like that with Luka’s mother and— 

That train of thought had led to Luka giving in so that he could flee the scene of those very uncomfortable thoughts, but of course walking Fang wasn’t as simple as Jagged made it out to be. Of course.

And now Luka was stuck wrestling an 800 pound crocodile in the lobby of Paris’ fanciest hotel, all because Fang decided to throw a hissy fit (Luka had recently learned that crocodiles could, in fact, hiss) during his morning walk because the carpet had snagged one of his claws, and Fang, it turned out, was kind of a wuss.

Luka was far from a weakling to begin with, growing up working on the boat, which always needed repair in some tight and uncomfortable corner. After months of tagging around as a roadie and occasional backup guitarist to bond with his wanna-be father, lifting sound equipment and setting up stages and wedging himself into improbable positions to hook up sound equipment, he was probably in the best shape he’d ever been. So he was almost, sort of, holding his own against the thrashing crocodile, pressing his weight down on Fang and trying to get the dumb beast to hold still, damnit. He managed to get astride Fang’s neck and get a hand on either side of his massive jaws to hold them shut all while trying to reassure the hotel patrons that the situation was under control. 

“Now, you big baby,” he growled, lifting Fang’s muzzle up and back to keep him from thrashing. “Hold—” He glanced up at the small crowd that had gathered—and promptly forgot about them as his gaze locked on the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. She blinked big blue eyes with long lashes and her cheeks pinked and he suddenly felt like Fang had kicked him in the gut. “Still,” he finished breathlessly.

Unfortunately, Fang sensed his distraction, jerked his muzzle free, and with a wild thrash and half-spin that required more energy than Luka had ever seen the lethargic creature use, he threw Luka off. 

The crowd scattered out of his way as he tumbled across the floor towards them, except for the blue-eyed girl in the pink dress, who didn’t move. Luka rolled to a stop at her feet on his back, and for a moment they stared at each other

“Hi,” Luka panted, and a giddy grin spread over his face. 

“Are you all right?” she asked anxiously, crouching down beside him and brushing his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. It shouldn’t have been possible for his heart to beat any harder considering he’d just been wrestling a crocodile four or five times his size, but it sure did its best as she stared into his eyes. It took longer than it should have to register that she was checking him for a concussion.

“Yeah,” he gasped. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

She frowned and held up her index finger. “Follow my finger.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” he said, eyes tracking that delicate finger automatically. She blushed and lowered her hand to her lap, where it curled automatically around the pink bakery box in her lap.

Luka blinked. “Wait, are those macarons?” 

“Um, yes?” Blue eyes blinked back at him. “I’m supposed to be delivering them to Jagged Stone.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Luka groaned, rolling over. “I work for him. Sort of. Can I have one of those please?” He got to his feet and pulled off his hoodie, tossing it to one side. It was one of the only articles of clothing he owned that wasn’t ripped and he wanted to keep it that way. Those big eyes got even bigger, roving over his shoulders and arms for a moment before she fumbled the box open and offered him a cookie.

He grinned, holding up the macaron between them. “Thanks, uh—” 

“Oh,” her eyes widened again. “I’m, uh, m-my name’s Ma-Ma-Marinette.” 

“Hello Ma-Ma-Marinette,” he chuckled, thoroughly charmed, “I’m Luka, and I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

A small hand caught his arm as he turned away and he looked back in surprise. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” she asked him anxiously, looking between him and Fang with concern. Marinette didn’t look frightened of the crocodile, but she looked up at him with a worried expression that had Luka ready to melt into a puddle at her feet. She was too sweet. 

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “He looks scary, but he’s basically a big baby throwing a temper tantrum. I’ll be fine.” He winked at her and faced Fang with renewed purpose. 

“Fang,” he called, waving the macaron in the crocodile’s field of vision. “Hey, boy, fancy a snack? Who’s a good croc? Fangy want a treat?”

Fang’s massive head followed him, and the crocodile’s jaws gaped wide. 

“That’s it, Fang,” Luka coaxed. “You want the treat? Let’s have a trick. Down, Fang.” 

The crocodile flopped on his belly obediently. “Good boy, Fang!” Luka praised. “Now, stay...just hold still a bit…”

Fang’s head turned as Luka held out the macaron at arm’s length, trying to reach Fang’s caught claw while keeping his attention on the macaron. 

It didn’t work; Fang lunged for the treat, forcing Luka to jump back, and pulled hard on his trapped and probably now sore paw. Fang chomped the cookie, which Luka had dropped in his surprise, and then made what should have been an angry bellow but was really more like a big whine as he began to thrash. Luka spared a moment of grudging admiration for whoever had made this damn carpet. Fang’s claws were filed religiously so he wouldn’t be slicing through it anytime soon, but you’d think he’d have managed to break free by now.

But then again, he was kind of an overgrown pampered poodle instead of the apex predator he should have been.

“Aw, c’mon, you big baby!” Luka groaned, throwing his weight back on the grumpy animal to stop his thrashing before he hurt himself. “Would you just hold fucking still for two seconds—” There was a flash of pink at the corner of his eye and he looked quickly to find Marinette at his elbow. She shoved another macaron into his hand, and Luka quickly leaned over Fang to wave it in front of the croc’s face. “Hey Fang, you want another?” he called, and the massive head swung away from his caught claw in pursuit of the macaron. That was great, for the moment, but Luka couldn’t figure out any way to tempt Fang with the macaron and get his claw loose at the same time. 

Suddenly there was a weight against his leg, and Luka looked back in surprise just in time to see the girl of his dreams grab Fang’s foreleg and force it down until there was some small amount of slack in the loose threads that had trapped him. Then she reached over with her other hand and did something Luka couldn’t see.

Just like that, Fang was free, and Luka, bent over nearly in half and hanging off the side of a crocodile, lost his heart completely. The love of his life sat up and her unfairly perfect lips curved in a triumphant smile as she brushed blue-black bangs out of her eyes. He stared as she tucked the seam ripper that had been in her hand back in her purse, and cooly tossed Fang another cookie. 

He entertained a brief fantasy of grabbing her gorgeous face and kissing her stupid right then and there, but it seemed a Jagged kind of thing to do, which meant it was probably a bad idea. Instead he slithered off of Fang’s back and sat next to her on the carpet. 

“So, uh,” he said, still rather winded but giving her the most charming grin he could muster under the circumstances. “Thanks for the assist.” 

She giggled. “My pleasure.” 

“Well, Ma-Ma-Marinette,” Luka said, turning slightly so his back was resting against the now-docile crocodile and drawing up one knee to prop his arm across it. “Will you marry me?” 

She burst into bright laughter that touched his musical soul, and he longed for his guitar. “Too soon, huh?” Luka sighed dramatically. “How about dinner, then? I promise I’ll leave Fang at home. Whoa!” He nearly fell backwards as Fang abruptly moved away from him, swinging around to nose the box of treats and then—and then the fucker turned and put his head in Marinette’s lap, blinking up at her ever so innocently.

Marinette giggled and reached for the box, plucking out a macaron and droppinging it into Fang’s mouth. She patted the crocodile’s head as he munched happily. “Aw, you’re just a puppy dog with scales, aren’t you?” she cooed, and Luka had never in his life believed he would be jealous of a fucking lizard, but here he was. Then Marinette looked up at Luka and smiled and blushed and he was ready to kiss Fang himself for giving him the chance to meet her. “Um, dinner sounds good,” Marinette said shyly, shoulders hunching slightly. “What did you have in mind?”  

Luka could only hope the grin that was spreading across his face wasn’t as dopey as it felt.

Luka drifted back into Jagged’s suite wearing that same dopey grin and a dreamy look in his eyes, Fang waddling along contentedly at his side. 

Penny frowned as he wandered past her. “Luka, everything okay?”

“Fantastic,” Luka replied, grin widening. “Can’t talk right now, Penny, I need my guitar.” 

He went into his room, Fang still waddling along with him. A few minutes later the sound of Luka’s guitar drifted through the suite. 

His door was still open, so Penny peaked in to see Luka on the floor, leaning back against Fang, strumming as he stared into nothing with that dreamy look on his face. Fang’s tail thumped lightly in time with the melody. 

Penny turned and whisper-yelled for Jagged. She waved him over. “Do you think he’s okay?” she asked, nodding toward Luka’s room.

Jagged listened for a minute, and then began to cackle. “Aw, leave him be, Penny,” he chortled, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “Boy’s got it bad. Let him work it out for a bit and then we’ll find out who the little lady is.” Jagged rubbed his hands gleefully. “It’s about time he found a muse. I told you Fang was a chick magnet. He was good before, he’s gonna be brilliant now. Every great musician needs inspiration, right love?” He chucked Penny under the chin and she blushed. 

#fang is the best man at the wedding #i am lukanette trash i admit it #lukanette #quickspins #meet-cute #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #miraculousladybug #i'll never not know you

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 7)

hey so who’s up for some a n g s t

(content warning for this chapter: vomit)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

.

“Favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Cool, mine’s blue. Um, favorite subject in school?”

“....Math?”

“Ew.”

“Lance,” Keith laughs over the mic. “You said no judgment. I was good at math.”

Leaning back, Lance pops his back. “Yeah, okay, fine. Mine was history.”

“Ew.”

They’d been sitting in the Overwatch menu screen for at least a half-hour, Keith indulging Lance in a question swap. “You know,” Keith says after taking a drink of his soda. “When I said we should get to know each other, I sort of expected something more.... Organic than 20 questions.”

“What, my methods aren’t free-range enough for you?” Lance joked, and Keith laughed loud at that one. “Well, you should know, Keith, that I have this tendency to focus on things that I want, and I don’t give up easily.”

Keith went silent for a second. “Things you want, huh?” His voice was low.

Lance felt the heat rush to his face. “U-um.”

“Sorry,” Keith said. “Too much?”

Lance chewed his lip. “Is it too much for you?”

Keith’s tongue clicked through the headphones over Lance’s ears, and when he spoke, his voice was almost sultry. “Nah. Besides, I can be pretty driven when I want something, too.”

Dear lord, this man was going to be the death of him. Now that they’d gotten their feelings out in the open, Lance was discovering a side of Keith he never knew existed - a bold, fearless, self-assured side. And holy shit, was it hot, if a little terrifying. Whatever reservations Keith had about flirting before now were long gone, and it would still throw lance for a serious loop to hear Keith directing low key innuendo at him.

“Here’s one for you,” Keith said. “When did you first play guitar?”

“Oh!” Lance grinned. “I was nine. I had already been playing the piano for two years, but it sort of bored me. I couldn’t get it to make the kind of sound I wanted, if that makes sense? Then my dad got his old acoustic guitar out of storage and got it repaired and restrung. When he played it, I knew it was the sound I’d been trying to find.” His eyes went misty as he remembered the first time he plucked one of the steel strings. “It sounded like heaven.”

“Wow,” Keith said after a minute.

“Your turn. How’d you know you wanted to be a pilot?”

Keith hummed. “I was always sort of an adrenaline junkie as a kid. Raced go-karts, ran track, got in trouble, did some free running. I… spent a lot of time in and out of foster care, which was a pretty numbing experience, so I think maybe I was looking for something to make me feel alive.”

Lance had no idea what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

“I went on a field trip to an air force museum with my school when I was thirteen,” Keith continued. “There was a reconstructed Grumman F-14 Tomcat on display, and when I looked at it, I just thought, I need to be in one of those.” He let out a little laugh. “That’s also where I met Shiro. Or, well, he met me. When I stole his car.”

Lance choked, beating his fist on his chest to get air back into his lungs. “Excuse me?”

Then Keith laughed long and loud. “Told you. Adrenaline junkie. I was a brat with something to prove.”

Lance stared at his computer screen. This was intense, and he had a feeling that he was only scratching the surface of who Keith really was.

-----

October began, and Lance was officially panicking. Because Keith’s birthday was at the end of this month and he really wanted to do something special for it. Now that they were hovering in some bizarre “not boyfriends yet” zone, Lance figured it wouldn’t be too much to maybe go a little further than he would for a friend.

He got out his guitar, a notebook, blank music sheets, and a pencil.

——-

Lance’s channel was gaining followers rapidly. He was no stranger to having an online following, but he had to change his notification settings on twitter to keep his phone from blowing up constantly. He pondered making a separate, locked account for himself, something his friends could follow where he could drop the YouTube persona.

He was sort of envious of Keith’s anonymity online.

And speaking of Keith, there was also the issue of a potential move to Springdale. Lance had looked up schools in the area, and the local community college had a music education program that he could afford. He’d closed his browser and walked away from his laptop after he had that confirmation and spent the next fifteen minutes pacing around the living room, running his hands through his hair until it was sticking up all over the place. It hadn’t felt real until that moment; before that, the idea of going back to school and pursuing an actual career had been just that -- and idea. But now? Now he couldn’t really make excuses anymore. It was all very much within his reach. He just had to muster up the courage to go for it.

Easier said than done.

Lance ended up stress eating half a carton of butter pecan ice cream by the time Pidge came home from class.

Lance posted more Overwatch videos in the meantime, held some more streams. His content was slowing down because he’d taken an extra shift every week at the cafe to save up money. He had no idea what his living situation was going to be come January, but it was safer to assume he’d be on his own and have the money to support himself.

He talked to Keith almost every day. They’d started using facetime, and that did a number on poor Lance’s heart, to get to see Keith’s face while talking to him. Keith was still unfarily, stupidly, irrevocably attractive, even when he was flushed and sweaty from working out or covered in grime from the garage. One time Keith had called when Lance was wearing a face mask, and Lance would have been embarrassed, if it wasn’t for the absolutely hilarious confusion that crossed Keith’s face at the sight.

“I’m kind of big on skin care, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Uh.” Keith’s thick eyebrows pinched together. “I hadn’t?”

Lance smiled as much as he could with the mask drying on his face. “Well, get used to it. It’s a packaged deal with me.”

Keith gave him a little grin then, and Lance nearly swooned.

.

Another night, as they were messing around in Overwatch, the topic of tattoos came up. “Do you have more than one? Tattoo, I mean,” Lance asked while they scrolled through servers.

“Just the one,” Keith answered. “I kinda want more, but I’m not sure what I’d get. You?”

“None.” Lance hummed. “How big is that lion, anyway? I could only see the top bit at the beach.”

“Not that big,” Keith answered. Then there was some shuffling from his end of the voice chat, and he went quiet for a second. Lance thought he heard a click.

“You okay over there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just - gimme a sec - there.”

Lance’s phone buzzed at his side. He picked it up, the motion completely automatic, to see a new text. He used his thumb print to open it, and the entire universe ground to a screeching halt.

Because on the screen was Keith’s lion tattoo, in its entirety, the dark red ink carved neatly into Keith’s exposed hip. At the bottom of the frame, a thumb was hooked into the hem of a pair of sweatpants, pulling them down and away, and at the top, a dark gray shirt was rucked up to reveal a toned stomach. Lance’s heart might have stopped. There was so much skin, all smooth and milky, stretched over a sharp hipbone, the sweatpants pulled down just enough to reveal the tiny beginnings of dark hair below. Lance’s mouth watered.

“You still there?” Keith was asking, a smile in his voice, but Lance.exe had stopped working.

“Jesus Christo,” Lance breathed. “You -- you gotta warn me before you do that.”

He heard Keith huff a little laugh. “Sorry.”

Lance had the distinct impression that Keith wasn’t sorry at all.

-----

Lance might have pulled a few all-nighters in the course of the month. But he was running out of time, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until it was perfect. This was for Keith, for his birthday, and Lance absolutely did not half ass things like that.

Pidge just rolled her eyes at him and went back to her thesis, heedless of Lance’s internal crisis as she tapped away at her laptop.

He was finally, finally ready to record on the 18th. It took at least four tries to get one good take, and then he had to record backup vocals, additional guitar, piano. It took three days to get the song right, and he didn’t even have a video. A blank screen would have to do.

He set the video to post at 8:00am the next morning, October 23. He really, really hoped Keith would see it, and Lance listened to the song one last time before he went to bed.

I was wondering through, I’d never heard your voice You were just an idea on a screen I was belly up, dried up, a fish out of water Pretending that I could breathe air

But then I met you, and my world burst into color Where was I going before you came my way I don’t know, I don’t care, and I don’t think it matters I’m just so glad that I met you

I had no direction, you handed me a map And it’s pointing me your way I hope that’s alright, ‘cause I sort of can’t help it, You’re drawing me to you, and I don’t want to stop

Because my world is all color now that you’re in it So bright and beautiful, just like your smile And no matter what happens, I want you to know Darling I am so glad that I met you.

In the description, Lance wrote “happy birthday” with a heart emoji, then clicked “schedule video” and let the fates have it. He went to bed with a nervous jitter in his veins.

The next morning, Lance was still anxious as hell, so he went for a long run through the brisk autumn air. After five miles he came home and made some coffee, as it was brewing, his phone rang.

Keith’s number was on the screen.

Lance cleared his throat and picked up. “Hey Keith!” he started, happy that the words only shook a little bit. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Keith answered. His voice sounded strange. “I, um. I saw the video you posted.”

Lance felt his whole body flash hot as he bit his lip. “Happy Birthday, Keith.”

There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “That was for me?”

“Yeah.”

Keith was quiet for a long time. Then a sudden wet sniffle came through, and Lance felt himself panic. “Keith?”

“Sorry,” Keith’s voice cracked. “Sorry, I just--” he broke off with another sniffle, louder this time. “I’m not used to that. To people doing nice things for me.”

Oh god. Lance had made him cry. And the sound was so sad that Lance felt his own eyes sting.  “You okay?”

Keith laughed, the sound wet and strained. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just. Wow, Lance.”

“Get used to it,” Lance said softly. “I’m definitely the type for grand gestures.”

Another small laugh, then some more sniffling. “What did I do,” Keith whispered, “to deserve someone like you?”

Lance leaned against the counter top behind him, his heart hammering in his chest. “I ask myself that all the time.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Keith groaned, but Lance could hear a smile in his voice. “I have to go to work in an hour. How am I supposed to concentrate now?”

“You’re working on your birthday?”

Lance heard a grunt and the scrape of a chair. “I always do. My birthday’s never been a big deal to me. I think Shiro wants to barbeque tonight, though.”

The coffee maker beeped, and Lance poured himself a cup. “Would it be alright if I made it a big deal?”

Keith hummed. “If that’s what a big deal is to you, then I guess I’ll just have to get used to it, won’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you will.”

-----

Pidge forwarded an email to Lance the next week. A science conference was being held in Charlotte at the end of the month, and she was going.

“I’ll probably be gone the whole weekend. I’m driving with some classmates, so you can have the apartment to yourself.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or maybe have someone over.”

“Pidge,” Lance chided, rolling his eyes as she laughed into her coffee.

She was right, though. Lance could have someone over. Of course, there was only one ‘someone’ in mind - but would that be too fast? To ask Keith to come stay the weekend here? Alone with Lance?

His face went hot at the thought. A whole weekend alone with Keith.

They’d only been apart from each other for a little over a month, and facetime was nice and all, but Lance missed him. In person, Keith exuded this… energy that didn’t come through a phone line or internet connection. It was sort of intoxicating, making Lance want to get closer and closer. But would that be too much?

Lance mentally beat himself up for an hour before messaging Keith on discord about it.

LanceyLance Hey so Pidge is going out of town for a conference thing just after Thanksgiving. Would you want to come down here to chill? We can livestream or smth

Keith uh yeah I think that would be okay. what days

LanceyLance nov 28-30

Keith okay cool let me check some things and I’ll get back to you

Lance wondered if “almost throwing up from sheer nerves because I might get to spend a weekend alone with a hot boy” was a good reason to call into work. He went in for his shift anyway and was only slightly distracted. On his break, Lance checked his phone and found a new message from Keith on Discord.

Keith so that weekend looks okay, I put in for time off

LanceyLance cool!

Lance ruined the next three drinks, his heart in his throat.

Later that night, he got on a voice chat with Keith, his heart pounding despite him telling it over and over to calm the hell down.

“I was thinking we could do a livestream, maybe some Overwatch?” Lance said as he picked at a cuticle. “You could be my special guest.”

Keith did that little airy chuckle that made Lance shiver. “As long as you don’t ask me to sing.”

“No promises.” Biting his lip, Lance took a breath. He might as well ask. “You sure you’re okay with this? It’s not, like, moving too fast?”

Keith hummed. “No? I mean, I figured we were just gonna hang out… Why?” his voice dropped. “Did you have other plans?”

“No,” Lance squawked, cursing how his voice cracked. “No, I mean, you said you wanted to go slow, so I was just thinking we could just play some games, maybe watch a movie or go to the marina. That’s okay, right…?”

“Yeah,” Keith breathed, and Lance could hear the smile. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

A hot wash of embarrassment hit Lance, and he covered his face and groaned. Keith laughed a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice was muffled by his hands. “Yeah. I just -- jeeze. I must sound desperate or something.”

“It’s not just you,” Keith said softly. “I mean, same, I guess? I know I said I wanted to take this slow, but honestly, it’s turning out to be harder than I expected.”

The admission was unexpected and sent Lance’s blood pressure through the roof. He could already tell it was going to be a struggle to keep his hands to himself.

-----

One week until Keith’s visit. Pidge was packing her bag early and giving Lance absolute hell about it.

“Use protection,” she said, stuffing a shirt into a suitcase. Lance sputtered.

“Oh knock it off!” He shrieked. “He’s coming to hang out. That’s it!”

Pidge shot him a skeptical look as she folded a pair of jeans over her arm. “Sure, sure. Just do me a favor and disinfect any surfaces you decided to ‘hang out’ on.”

Lance threw up his arms in defeat, then went to his computer. He and Keith had already planned out their livestream, and decided it was close enough to make an announcement.

Lance! @lanceylance Hey everyone! Next Friday (11/28) I’ll be holding a livestream with special guest @k_redlion! Stream begins at 4pm eastern. Be there!!

.

Pidge left early Friday morning, and in the four hours until Keith was supposed to arrive, Lance did one of the most thorough cleanings of the apartment he’d ever done. He dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed and mopped, did laundry and the dishes, changed the sheets on his bed, washed the spare set of sheets for the pull out sofa.

Satisfied, he jumped in the shower and gave himself and equally thorough scrub down. He was all nerves as he dried off and dressed. He was admiring his handiwork in the living room when his phone buzzed.

Keith made it into town, be there in 10

Lance bounced on his heels and went outside to wait. After a few minutes, a dark blue sedan with Virginia plates pulled up and into a parking spot. The engine shut off, and the door opened to reveal Keith, in his leather jacket with his hair pulled up high.

“Nice car,” was the first thing that came out of Lance’s mouth. He internally groaned.

“Rental,” Keith said, closing the driver’s door and going for the back seat. “I love my bike, but five hours on it is a bit much, especially when it’s cold.”

Lance took Keith’s duffel bag for him and led him up to the apartment. He’d set up their streaming area in the living room where they’d be closest to the router.

“The stream isn’t for another three hours,” Lance said, setting Keith’s bag on the chair. “Wanna relax until then?”

Keith slipped out of his jacket, revealing a dark gray sweater that stretched nicely across his chest. “Sounds good. That drive is a little tiring.”

Once Lance had gotten them both glasses of water from the kitchen, they decided on YouTube fail videos, sitting next to each other on the couch, close, but not too close. Keith’s laugh was such a nice sound, and Lance couldn’t help but lean a little in his direction. After an hour’s worth of cats and people slipping and falling, Keith grunted, grimacing.

“You okay?” Lance asked.

Keith gave him a smile. “Yeah, my stomach’s kind of upset. That gas station poptart might not have been a good idea.”

Standing, Lance moved towards the kitchen. “I’ve got some pickled ginger in the fridge, would that help?”

Keith followed him. “Yeah, probably.”

As soon as Lance opened his fridge, horror dawned upon him. “I didn’t get us any stream snacks!”

“It’s not a big deal?” Keith said slowly. Lance handed him the jar of sushi ginger and shook his head.

“It totally is! We need proper junk food for streaming.” He pursed his lips and tapped his chin. “Are you okay if I hit the store? It won’t take long.”

Keith shrugged with the jar in his hand. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll just hang out and rest.”

He showed Keith where the forks were, taking a little delight in seeing how Keith ate the ginger straight out of the jar just like he did, then grabbed his shopping bags. “I’ve got my phone, text me if you want anything!”

The drive to the store was short, and Lance sped through the aisles with a basket on his arm. Gourmet sodas, the nice veggie chips, lemon cream cookies, a package of fresh strawberries. He’d take Keith out for dinner, maybe Vinnie’s again. This weekend was going to be awesome.

On the way home, however, Lance got stuck in stand-still traffic - he could see just far enough ahead to tell there had been an accident. And there was nowhere for him to turn off to for another few hundred feet, so he was stuck. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and shot a text to Keith.

stuck in traffic, might be a little late

He put Pandora on his phone and turned up the volume, shifting his car into park.

By the time Lance made it back to the apartment, he’d been gone for more than an hour and a half. The living room was empty, but Lance went straight for the kitchen. The stream was set to start in 45 minutes, so they needed to start setting up. “Keith?” Lance called as he stashed the groceries in the fridge. “You good, man? We should get started soon.”

There was no answer.

“Keith?” Lance poked his head out of the kitchen. “You here?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if he’d missed a text as he went towards the back of the apartment. Rounding a corner, Lance stopped. His phone clattered to the floor.

Just outside the bathroom, face down in the hallway, was Keith.

Lance slid on his knees towards him. “Keith!” Reaching for him, he turned Keith over, and gasped. His face was bright red, his eyes screwed shut. He was sweating profusely and burning up with a fever. “Keith!” Lance called again. “Hey, man, answer me!”

Keith’s eyes flickered. “L-lance?” he grunted, his voice weak. “It hurts, oh god Lance, it hurts so bad--”

Adrenaline was dumping into Lance’s bloodstream as he went into full panic mode. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Keith!” But Keith stopped responding, his breathing sounding wheezy and shallow.

“Shit,” Lance muttered, clutching Keith close to his chest. “Shit shit shit!”

His phone was five feet away. He should call 911. But who knows how long an ambulance would take and the hospital was five minutes away, he could get there faster on his own--

Lance had grabbed his phone and hoisted Keith into his arms before he realized it. And shit, Keith was heavy, making Lance stumble and lean against a wall more than once as he made it out of his apartment and to his car, where he dropped  Keith on the back seat.

He’d never driven so aggressively in his life.

Lance screeched to a halt outside the ER doors, and barely managed to put his car in park. He opened the back door and pulled Keith out, hooking one of Keiths’ arms around his neck and half-carrying him inside.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, I need some help here--”

At his side, Keith made a choking sound, then curled in on himself and vomited.

The whole world became too fast and too slow. Several nurses ran up to them, pulling Keith away. A clattering gurney was brought out. As Keith’s limp body was hoisted on to it, Lance barely registered someone talking to him, asking him what happened.

“I don’t know,” Lance’s throat was closing. “I don’t know, he was fine two hours ago--”

More questions, but Lance couldn’t hear them. All he could focus on was Keith, unconscious on a hospital stretcher, disappearing down a hallway as nurses ran beside him.

.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

(don’t worry guys, Keith is gonna be fine!! But Lance doesn’t know that OvO)

#klance #youtuber AU

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Step on It

Whoops! I didn’t at all mean to start this, but then I saw a post by @mendeshoney tossing around the idea of a Shawn Mendes Baby Driver AU, and absolutely fell in love with it. It’s probably going to have three or four more parts, and hopefully the next will be up in a few days! It’s genuinely one of my favorite movies and favorite things I’ve ever written, so please feel free to tell me what you think! 

Word Count: 3.1k+

Baby was a good kid. He always tried to do the right thing, looked after his foster dad like he was his own flesh and blood, and never hurt anyone unless he absolutely, genuinely had to. Baby was a good kid, but sometimes he got mixed up with the wrong people. After his parents died, and before moved in with James— back when he was still bouncing around group homes— he made some bad moves, ending up with the sort of crowd he swore he’d never get involved with. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean anything bad by lifting the Audi at the corner of Queen and Boulton. All he was ever going to do was take it out for an hour or so, drive around, and return it, no harm done. Nobody was ever supposed to find out. What Baby didn’t count on was that somebody had been watching him.

His heart leapt up to his mouth as soon as he saw the man at the corner, clad in a grey suit, arms crossed and a wry smile on his face. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to get caught. He was tripping over his words as he got out of the car, a combination of apologies and excuses and pleas for forgiveness falling out of his mouth before the man held up a hand and Baby’s words trailed off.

“I saw you driving,” the man said. “Call me Flint.”

Baby briefly wondered if that was his real name. “I’m so sorry about the car, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“How old are you, kid?”

“Fourteen,” Baby swallowed.

“Fourteen, Jesus. Where’d you learn to drive like that?”

He shrugged. “Don’t really know. Just around?”

Flint looked at him for a moment, weighing his options. “I’ve got an idea. You ever want to make some extra money, Baby?”

He nodded. “Sure, but my name’s—”

Flint cut him off. “Save it. Where we’re going kid, you won’t be needing it. Anyone asks, your name’s Baby. You hear me?”

Forcing down a nervous swallow, Baby followed Flint. What was he getting himself into?

Baby had always learned that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Flint’s deal was no exception. While he was undoubtedly dazzled by Baby’s skills behind the wheel, he was more interested in using them for his own, less-than-legal purposes. All to pay off the debt Baby owed him for stealing his car, he had said. Which is how Baby found himself sitting in the driver’s seat of a nondescript red sedan six years later, glancing over his sunglasses to see if the job was done. By job he meant bank robbery, naturally. It wasn’t like Baby felt good about what he was doing; he didn’t. He was doing it because he had to. He had no other choice. So he tried his best to push away his conscience, ignore the ringing in his ears, and skip songs on one of his many iPods until he found something suitable. Fast-paced, driving sound, with the right tempo and rhythm to keep him from thinking too much about the fact that he was definitely about to commit a felony. Bellbottoms- Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Keeping one eye on the bank door, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, singing along under his breath. Baby liked to drive, but music is what gave him life, what kept him going week after week when the guilt of what he did threatened to eat away at his soul. Lost in thought for a moment, he nearly missed the blaring sound of the bank’s panic alarm, the small crew sprinting out the side door and across the street to his car. They piled in, Baby turned the key in the ignition, and he floored it. Down side streets, between cars, and under overpasses, until they arrived at the switch point, trading in the red sedan for a demure-looking silver hatchback. Baby vaguely wondered if Flint was channelling his inner suburban soccer mom, before sliding into the front and retrieving the keys from the center console.

The ride back to the headquarters— “the office,” as Flint liked to call it— was much less eventful, and ten minutes later the group of five was walking back into a seemingly-abandoned warehouse.The same strange smile on Flint’s face, the one Baby had learned was his sign of restrained satisfaction, he spoke. “So, how’d it go?”

Working for Flint, Baby had become an expert in waiting around and biding his time. There was never a consistent schedule for his jobs; he could go two days or two months between. When Flint called, he went. He’d take his stack of bills home, tuck them underneath a loose floorboard in the living room, and try hopelessly to reassure James that he wasn’t up to anything illegal, that he wasn’t in danger. He hated lying, but knew that it would be putting them both in way more danger if he knew the truth.

That’s how he ended up in the tiny kitchen in the apartment he shared with James, two pieces of bread on the counter, a jar of peanut butter off to the side.

Banana? He signed to James.

Obviously, he said, eyes rolling.

A corner of Baby’s mouth twitched. Grabbing a banana from the counter, he put the peanut butter back in the cupboard, placing the plate in front of him.

Thank you, James said.

No problem, I’ll be in my room if you need anything.

James nodded, and Baby walked the short distance from the living room to his bedroom, closing the door most of the way but not shutting it. James’ arthritis had been acting up lately, and he didn’t want him to have to open the door if he needed help.

Sitting down on his slightly beat-up but well-loved office chair, Baby pulled out a fresh case of blank cassette tapes that he had bought from the music store earlier in the day. It was the one thing that seemed to be able to get him out of his head, that gave him some semblance of peace and security in the midst of everything he did as part of his day job. Opening up his Mac and powering on his old cassette recorder, he plugged in his earphones. He liked to record bits of conversations he overheard, or lines of a song, or even the ambient noise that made Toronto sound like home. Car horns, trains, birds chirping, the splashing on Lake Ontario, they all made him feel safe. Made him feel at home. The top shelf of his closet was mostly filled with shoeboxes filled to the brim with these tapes, another off to the side having a dozen or so iPods and MP3 players he had loaded with his favorite music. Each one had its own theme. Most people had all of their albums on just one or two, but Baby liked the structure of his system. He was able to have control over that, even if in every other respect his life seemed out of his hands.

Someday, Baby thought he might like to try writing his own music. There would be something powerful about feeling like a piece of music was really his own, not like he was merely toying around with someone else’s words, someone else’s melody. He even had a guitar in the corner of the room, a nice one, that he’d pull out on occasion, an old journal filled with half-written songs lying on top of it. The guitar was the only thing Baby had ever spent a lot of money on, and the very pretty girl at the music store downtown promised him it was worth every penny of the $800 he had spent. He wasn’t much of a spender aside from that, nearly all of the rest of the money went towards savings. Saving for what, Baby didn’t know. He thought he might like to go to college one day, but that obviously wasn’t going to work in his current situation. Travelling was out too. So it was left accumulating under the floorboard, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

As Baby popped the cassette out of the recorder and scrawling a title over the front, a glint of metal caught the corner of his eye. His mom’s iPod. He always found it something of a miracle that it hadn’t been irreparably damaged in the car crash that had killed both her and his father, but he always ended up figuring that she was watching over him now, that she knew he couldn’t survive, wouldn’t want to survive, in a world without music. Baby could care less about his father— he had never really been there for him, never played catch or taught him how to ride a bike ro read goodnight stories, all the things a dad was supposed to do— but his mother, he missed her every day, the pain her death caused left a hole in his heart that had never been repaired. Some days were easier than others, but no days were easy. His mom, Julia, was the one who showed him love and taught him that he was valued and wanted and important, especially when he didn’t feel so himself.

He was ten when his parents died, which unfortunately for him, is right about when you really start remembering stuff, and selective memory doesn’t work as well as it used to. Which meant that he remembered every excruciating detail about the car accident that had left him an orphan. His parents fighting, his dad’s eyed not being on the road, the truck drifting into their lane, the crunch of the metal, being pulled out of the car by some good Samaritan and carted off to the hospital. Some kind-faces, spectacled doctor trying to explain to him how they tried everything they could, but his parents hadn’t made it. His aunt buying him his first suit to wear to the funeral. Thc closed caskets.

His Aunt Lydia had taken him in for a few months, trying her best, but then her husband got transferred to a job in California and he wasn’t able to go with him. She still tried to keep up with letters though, her annual birthday cards sometimes the only thing that reminded him there was a world outside of the city limits. After that, he was put into foster care, bounced around from home to home, never staying more than a few months. Some of them were genuinely terrible places, but more often than not it was Baby who would run away, taking his backpack, iPod, and a change of clothes before his social worker tracked him down and had him sent to another house. James was different. There was something about him that made Baby want to try harder, want to be a better person, want to change. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t pity him. James had lost people too. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t come from much either, but still managed to live a life of joy and gratefulness every day. Maybe it was just the fact that he was a single Deaf man, so unlike any of the other families that he had been with, that all he actually needed was a change of pace. And six months later, he met Flint. Whatever the case was, Baby was grateful. He didn’t know where he’d be without James. So he wasn’t proud of what he did for Flint. Not by a long shot. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to keep himself and the one other person he was certain he cared about safe.

He owed Flint a debt, and it wasn’t like he could ignore his calls even if he wanted to. And by God, did Baby want to. Every time he picked up his phone for another one of Flint’s ‘jobs,’ it chipped away at him. The best he could do, Baby mused, was simply try to ignore the guilt until they were square, until he was all paid up, until he could finally by a car of his own and go driving down the highway and never stop.

Baby stripped off his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, threw the covers over himself, and wanted for sleep to come.

Baby woke the next morning to the blaring of his phone alarm, the speakers playing Mr. Blue Sky until he reached over, absentmindedly thumbing the screen until the music stopped. Opening up his closet, he dressed himself before walking out to the kitchen, where James was already sat in his wheelchair by the living room couch, reading the previous day’s newspaper.

Eggs and toast okay? Baby asked.

James nodded. Bacon? He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Baby shook his head. All out, used the last yesterday. I’ll get more when I’m out today.

Will you have another job today? Baby had never really told James about what he did for Flint, figuring the more ignorance on his part the better, but he was more perceptive than most, and had found out that at the least, whatever Baby was going to be given stacks of hundreds couldn’t be legal.

I don’t know, he said, shrugging. They call, I go. That had long been his motto.

Baby didn’t usually have much to do so long as he kept his phone on him, so he walked until his feet ended up taking him to Grange Park, to the same bench his mom used to sit on while he played on the same playground he looked at now. School was still in session so there weren’t too many people around, the majority being toddler age or younger. He sat for a few minutes, trying his best to disallow any memories from the crash to taint his daydreams, eventually plugging his headphones in, scrolling to his favorite 80s playlist, and walking the twenty minutes to the diner.

His mom had worked at Fran’s since long before he was born, and Baby had spent countless hours staying out of the way in a corner booth, entertaining himself with coloring books and comic strips until his mom finished her shift. Everyone that worked there had always been good to him, Julia’s frequent shift partner Monica even checking in on him a few times after her death, bringing casseroles and condolences that meant well, but didn’t end up doing much more than reminding him that her kids still had a mom while he didn’t. He visited often enough that the manager waved at him as he walked through the door, telling him his usual booth was open and he was welcome to take it. He slid in, and not a moment later the door opened again, and in walked a woman who was inarguably the most beautiful person Baby had ever seen in his life.

He barely had time to register that she was singing, so he pulled out the little, pocket-sized cassette recorder he kept in his jacket, managing to catch the last ten seconds or so. He wasn’t even able to slip it back in and she had returned, her long brown hair now pulled up in a bun and the denim jacket cast away in some cramped employee locker.

“What can I get you this morning?” She asked, with the same kind of planned cheerfulness Baby was used to from any of the servers. He hadn’t recognized her, though. He would have remembered.

Baby swallowed. “Uh, not sure?”

She waved him off, leaning her head towards the near-empty diner. It was a bit of an odd hour for lunch. “Don’t worry about it. Not like I’ve got many other customers to entertain, you see?”

His jaw fell slack, and she cocked an eyebrow quizcally at the cassette. “Am I being recorded or something? For...quality assurance?” She added playfully. “What can I get you this morning, sir?” She added with emphasis.

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he shook his head. “No, no. Nothing like that.” Continually flustered, he stared at the kid’s menu when she asked about his order again.

“You know that’s the kid’s menu, right?”

He grabbed the other sheet and placed it in front of himself, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“So did your day just end or is it starting?”

Baby shrugged a shoulder. “Can’t really say either way. They call, I go.” As if by some cruel twist of fate, his phone chose that moment to ring. Any other person would let it go— they were eating, they were busy, and they were with a very pretty girl. But there was only one number who ever called that phone. Flint. And while he may have had something of a soft spot for Baby, he’d be damn near on thin ice for letting it ring.

“So what do you do, then? Some kind of a driver, a chauffeur?” Her name tag said Joshua, and while Baby certainly wasn’t one to criticize someone for having a strange name, something told me it was likely the fault of some poorly-organized backroom shelves and not the girl’s parents.

“Yeah, I drive people.” Vagueness always seemed to be the best response whenever anyone asked him what he did. Too little detail and his story wouldn’t be believable, but too much and they’d get suspicious. He had learned long ago to tread the sweet middle ground.

“Anyone I’d know?”

He shook his head. “I hope not.”

She already found him interesting, but now he was flat-out mysterious. “You’re a little different, aren’t you?” She murmured.

“Maybe.” Baby didn’t want to leave. God, he didn’t want to leave. He had to, but there was one more question he needed to ask. “What was that song you were singing?”

The second he got out of the meeting with Flint, Baby headed straight to the nearest record store. He made a beeline for cassettes, praying it would be tucked away behind some long-forgotten stack of Elton John’s greatest hits or the Lion King soundtrack. After a few minutes of flipping, he finally found what he had been looking for. Tucked between Prince and Fleetwood Mac— he recalled with a grimace that this particular store didn’t always do a bang-up job at alphabetizing— Carla Thomas, B-A-B-Y. He had never listen to much music from the 50s or 60s aside from classic rock; jazz and folk never really struck him as ‘his kind’ of music, but he swore he’d never loved a song more than when he heard her singing it. Turning over the case in his hand, he remembered something that threatened to throw a wrench in his well thought-out plan. He didn’t know her name.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic

[ncfan-1]

Interregnum

"Your mother's really still missing, then?" [Written for Fictober 2018]

[Also on AO3]

Written for the prompt, “I’ll tell you but you’re not gonna like it.” Also written because the S4 promo indicates that Eclipsa is in charge as of the beginning of Season 4, and I was wondering how that happened.

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

“Your mother’s really still missing, then?”

Star nodded, but even as she was having this conversation with Eclipsa, her eyes kept straying to the baby sleeping soundly in Eclipsa’s arms. Everything related to said baby was weird beyond weirdness, a weirdness scientists would have to invent a whole new scale to accommodate, but the sight of Meteora Butterfly sleeping peacefully topped all. Nothing about that girl was peaceful, but here she was, sleeping.

The sight of Eclipsa and Meteora like that, the way Eclipsa had made a home out of the broken-open Monster Temple, in spite of the damage and the ruin, to the point of slowly repairing the building, filled Star with a hollow feeling. It grated on the inside of her chest like sandpaper, like it would make her bleed if it rubbed against her too hard or too long. Or maybe the hollow feeling wasn’t coming from that, or wasn’t just coming from that.

Star pushed the hollow feeling away to nod her head again. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find her.” She stared down at her hands, at the dirt caked under her fingernails and the rust-red scab on her right palm. “Mom’s just…” Don’t say ‘gone.’ “Not around.”

Her memories of the Realm of Magic were like a tapestry someone had left in their attic and not noticed when the moths and the mice and the whatever started munching on it. Tendrils of black in gold water. A laugh that in retrospect she recognized as her mom’s voice, though she’d never heard that note in her mom’s voice before. All those cute little baby unicorns. A thread of fear beneath the dull, foggy bliss.

These fragments of memory, Star kept trying to piece them together into a coherent story, something with a beginning, a middle, and an end, as opposed to just a heap of disjointed images with no start and no stop. Kept trying to figure out if she could have fought off the haze long enough to recognize her mom and get her to come home. But whenever she was close to an answer, it all flew away, and she spent so much time trying to corral those images and sensations that by the time they were back in their pen, she’d forgotten her place and had to start over.

Eclipsa sighed and shifted Meteora’s weight in her arms to retrieve her cup of black, earthy-tasting tea from the table. They were sitting in what Eclipsa called her parlor, and though they were seated on dusty cushions, the table under the lawn table cloth was of rough stone, and midday sunlight poured through a break in the wall high above them, it wasn’t half bad. Pretty cool, actually, though Star would be this place got pretty cold at night.

“That is worrisome,” Eclipsa said, her voice sort of caving on low notes.  “I’ve a hard time believing that Moon wouldn’t have already found her way back if everything was alright. She always seemed quite resourceful.”

Star nodded, trying not to fidget on her dusty blue cushion. There was something she was here to do, but her mind was going in many different directions the way it usually did, and it was hard to get there. She’d asked where Glossaryck was when she first got here, but Eclipsa had only shrugged and said that Glossaryck came and went as he pleased. A small pile of empty pudding cups was pressed into a corner, and that did provide some reassurance that he was here at least sometimes. Star hadn’t seen the wand. She didn’t ask about it.

While Star tried to reach the point she wanted to talk about, Eclipsa seemed to take her silence as license to go on talking. “I suppose that leaves you in charge.” Her pale, normally porcelain-smooth forehead scrunched up, and something glimmered wetly in her gray eyes. “I’m shocked you found the time to sneak away.”

In the end, she’d had to use the tunnels Eclipsa had shown her. Star shrugged, erratic energy racing under her skin. “Dad’s covering for me. I just wanted to give you an update.”

“Hmm.” Eclipsa frowned down into her teacup, her free hand going up to stroke the baby’s shock of silvery hair; Meteora twitched slightly, but did not stir. “But that’s not the only reason you’ve come, is it?”

“What? Why can’t it be?”

At that, Eclipsa smiled as if the two of them knew a secret shared by only them. The wet glimmer in her eye… Well, it didn’t leave entirely, but it was more of a twinkle, now, and was less disconcerting to look at. “Star. Dear. I remember being Queen. Moreover, I remember being Queen at precisely the age you are now. It was not especially pleasant, and one of the unpleasant things involved having so little time to myself that I took to staying up until two in the morning just so I could get some reading done.” She looked off, that smile curving upwards slightly. “Among other things. But those other things aren’t relevant to this conversation. What is relevant is that I can’t imagine so much has changed in the last three hundred years that you would have any more free time than I did. So why come here yourself, when it would have been a better use of your time just to send a message on to me?”

Star felt a sudden urge to sink her teeth around something. Not to bite or tear, but just to gnaw on it. It was only at these times that she really regretted letting Eclipsa keep the wand; since receiving it, she’d always chewed on the bell when she felt the need to have her teeth clattering against something. Before then, it had been pens or the hilt of a knife or occasionally her hair, whatever was at hand. Mom hated it when Star chewed on her hair, had tried for years to train her out of it, but now Star found herself winding her hair in one hand, barely resisting the urge to stuff a thick lock in her mouth. “I can tell you,” she said cautiously, “but you’re not gonna like it.”

A soft, slightly rumbling noise like a laugh, but not quite it, escaped Eclipsa’s mouth. “You’d better tell me, then. I understand the impulse to delay—believe me, I do—but bad news only gets worse the more you delay telling it.”

Star sucked in a deep breath. This was it, then. “Okay.” She drummed her fingers on her knees, a sharp, rapping tattoo. “I need you to come back to the castle with me.”

Once the moment had arrived, Star had said it very quickly, and as tended to happen when she said something very quickly, she’d accidentally left something out. But though she wasn’t always sure of much when it came to Eclipsa, she was sure of two things. That she cared enough about Mewni to potentially kill her own kid to protect it (which was something Star was still reeling from, just a little bit, but she’d been right there, she’d heard everything they said to each other, and there was no denying what she’d seen or heard), and that she might not have had the best judgment in the world, but that she was about as far from an idiot as you could get.

Eclipsa was pretty sharp, and thus, even though Star didn’t say everything she wanted to say at the first, Eclipsa seemed to infer the rest with no problem.

Her face fell. Like, visibly fell, so obviously that Star for once had no trouble interpreting the expression. Eclipsa’s back and shoulders stiffened, her arm tightening around Meteora until the baby whimpered a little in her sleep and she, with visible difficulty, relaxed her grip. When she spoke, her voice taut as a guitar string fit to snap, she said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Star. As you no doubt gathered, I am not especially popular in Mewni.” She stared off past Star, her jaw set and her eyes glinting with a hardness close to diamond. “When I renounced the throne, I meant that to be permanent. I don’t want it.”

“It’s not forever,” Star pleaded with her. “I need to look for my mom, and I can’t do that with eleventy-hundred castle people breathing down my neck.” She picked at her hand as she went on, “Mom’s a bit of a micro-manager, and nobody remembers what to do when there isn’t somebody giving them orders. They just follow me around like they’re little ducklings and I’m their mother; it’s weird!”

“What about your father?”

“Dad wants to go look for Mom, too, and he’ll probably go off by himself no matter what I tell him.” And this was not easy to say, but it needed to be said; it was right in the middle of the road in front of her, and couldn’t be swerved away from. “Dad’s not great at this. I mean, he can cover for me for a few hours okay, but any longer than that and he’s just… bad.” There, she’d said it. “It’s not good, it’s really not good, and I need him to help me look for Mom. So you don’t have to go back there forever. I just need someone to go and be the regent until I find Mom, and Mom’s relatives would be awful, and I…” Star stared down at her hands. “…I need help. That’s all.”

Star kept staring down at her hands. Eye contact was difficult when she felt like this; it was easier to look somewhere, anywhere else. Eclipsa didn’t say anything, and Star didn’t know whether she was thinking it over or if she was just waiting for Star to look up to tell her ‘no.’ Both seemed equally likely.

But then, another hand moved into her field of vision, a slender hand not much larger than her own, and covered by a gray, silken glove. The ring on Eclipsa’s ring finger glittered as she covered one of Star’s hands with her own, and at last, Star looked up.

“Alright,” Eclipsa said gently, “I’ll come back with you. They’re not going to like it, you know.”

“The court doesn’t like anything I do.”

“Neither will the Magical High Commission.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Star said flatly. “They can just deal with it.”

“Well, if that’s settled, just let me pack my things. I can leave now.”

#Star vs. The Forces of Evil #Fanfic #Fictober18 #Star Butterfly #Eclipsa Butterfly

[emmaruthrundlesh]

Dispelling Genres with Emma Ruth Rundle // Addicted Mag

(Via Addicted Magazine) Following Emma Ruth Rundle’s stunning set at Sneaky Dee’s in Toronto, we sat down (in this case, stood under an ATM security light) and discussed her new album, her new home and uh, music.

The review of her show can be found here.

Let’s start from the beginning.

I grew up in L.A. Both my parents are musicians. My mom plays harpsichord. My dad’s a pianist, my stepmom is a bass player. They met in a band. I just grew up around a lot of music.

Did you grow up listening to folk music?

It was all kinds of music. And I think the folk music thing really took hold when I started to hang out at the McCabe’s Guitar Store when I was a little girl, taking Celtic harp lessons. Then went on to work there for 13 years. So I think that’s where the folk influence originated. I think it was just from being so steeped in every element of what that multifaceted establishment was. It was about the concerts, the lessons, the repair and retail.

What was the first album that you bought with your own money?

Probably In Utero, to be honest, it was Nirvana.

About your songwriting process, you start on acoustic guitar. Do you come up with ideas in standard tuning and then work out your chord voicings?

No. I Inherited the open tunings also from the guitar store. If you handed me a guitar in standard tuning, I would have a hard time with it. I mean, at some point, I started tuning the guitar in a way that made more sense to me. I heard somebody else start changing a string and then I thought well if you can do it to one string, why can’t you do all this to all the strings, just rearrange it all. So for me, mostly my voicings , the root is usually on the fifth or sixth string. Using those open strings a lot in the chords, its makes them more of a modal thing.

You give yourself a lot of work.

I actually think it’s so much easier to play guitar like that. What’s hard about what I’m doing now, on this tour. To have a guitar in all the tunings, I’d have to have all of Kevin Shields’ guitars. If I was really wealthy and had a dedicated guitar roadie. That would be amazing. But it’s not the case. What I use is a combination of two guitars, sometimes it’s three and then capoing around. it’s been difficult actually to relearn the patterns of the songs in those different positions on the fretboard, it’s throwing me off a little. Not feeling super comfortable with it yet. I have tried to learn standard. I did take some classical guitar lessons a couple of years ago. It’s like. I do want to learn standard, be more proficient.

The genre that you tend to be put into, seems to be called gothic folk or dark folk

I don’t think this is folk music at all.

And yet in my research, I keep seeing it called folk music.

It’s because somebody said something and then everyone else just repeated it. I think that there are folky moments on the records, especially on Some Heavy Ocean, but I don’t think it’s folk music.

Maybe because it’s hard to pin down, if someone needs to classify your music…

I think Americana would make a little more sense in the mix with some other things. There’s a grunge influence. There’s a shoegaze influence, there’s post rock. There is, maybe, a touch of some country songs. And there’s a lot of 90s music. You know, I’m surprised people aren’t like “this is the drop tune Cranberries”.

That brings me to a point because as I’ve been listening to the new album, On Dark Horses, there are elements in these songs that lead me to think ‘that could be a pop song’. Play it in a standard tuning, throw in a little piano and a soft beat…Let’s get to the new album. I think it’s fantastic.

Thank you.

(Producer) Kevin Ratterman is credited with doing pretty much everything behind the board including engineering, mixing and mastering.

Yeah, he even played some keyboards and some guitar. He’d be like “I’m going to mix the song” and you’d come back and he’d say “I just added this little moment here”. He’s a very colourful creator. He’s got that creative fire. He’s a very special person. He moved to L.A. sadly. Kevin will come back. I was attracted to working with Kevin because of the Young Widows album, In and Out of Youth and Lightness, which is my favourite Young Widows album. That’s another reason why I fell in love with Louisville and Evan. I did a tour with them 10 years ago. I became enamoured with Evan’s guitar playing immediately and then listened to all their albums and that record has this wonderful theme in its sound and that’s Kevin and I think he did that for this record. He captured this sonic palette. It just has a colour and it’s Kevin. Once you know him and you’re around him, you see that he’s so in the records that he’s made.

On Dark Horses seems like the kind of album that you can continually listen to and still pick up new little pieces in the background.

He’s hidden a lot of little things. I love what he did with the bridge in Darkhorse where he did this panning so drums become the horses running around you. It’s very cool.

It’s good to have a producer thinking creatively like that.

Exactly, and Todd (Cook, bassist) and Evan and Dylan. Having them as well really changed it for me too.

Do you have a favourite off the album?

Darkhorse and Control are my two favourites

You Don’t Have To Cry is the song that I listened to again and again

I think a lot of people love that song and it’s our encore. I wrote it for my friend, Blake.

You write a lot in what I think of as vignettes or abstractions. There​ isn’t really a narrative in your songs.

It’s all about my life, my music and my lyrics…

Your lyrics can be interpreted in different ways. I think that’s the kind of music that people grasp onto. They can make it about themselves as well.​

I think that that is perfect. And that’s one reason why I don’t want to talk too much about my things, because some of is explicit in nature and I don’t want to really directly divulge those things. But it is meaningful enough and I think that some of it is charged in that way. That’s what music did for me when I was younger. That was the ultimate thing, when music could do that.

Of course. When someone says a song saved their life, it’s never a pop country song about tequila and trucks.

Yeah, It’s hard to find it now.

Which is why people grab on tight when they do find it.

I’m definitely like that. I have certain albums and I just listen to over and over and have for years.

What’s the one that you still gravitate to?

Well, for the last few years,. I would say 40 Watt Sun. The Inside Room. I listen to it almost every day. But that’s not like a nostalgic classic record from my childhood. It’s a discovery in my adult life. It did that cathartic thing for me that’s just so rare. That’s some serious soul music from my perspective

Why did you move from LA to Louisville?

It’s a fantastic place for artists. There’s a tight little scene of people. I think the great thing about it is that it’s very affordable and there’s a good quality of life. People are down to earth and we have a nice little situation there. Sometimes I start to feel like I’m trapped in the Beetlejuice town a little bit. And I do miss LA a lot but we get to tour.   (Pause).   I couldn’t go back. It’s kind of what Dead Set Eyes is about, leaving LA. Louisville is a great place. These fine people are from there (pointing to Jaye Jayle as they load out). Like my family. It’s kind of a long story. I was on tour, Jaye Jayle and ERR released the split record (The Time Between Us) last year, those were b-sides from Marked For Death and from their album, House Cricks. And the packaging, we just made it like this weird country romance. So we had this wild idea, since I was got asked to play Roadburn and do a little tour in Europe. Because I had very little funds, the idea was to combine the bands, have them learn my music and they would open for me. Then they would back me up as my band. That was Cathy’s wild idea (Cathy Pellow, founder of Sargent House) and she’s full of wild ideas. And I came off the Deafheaven tour and had split up with a partner. At some point earlier in the year, I was just kind of like gypsying around. I went back to Denver with Dylan (Nadon), that’s my drummer and Jaye Jayle were on tour with Oathbreaker. So the plan was they were going to finish their Oathbreaker tour and we were going to rehearse for four days in Louisville. I would go to Louisville and then we would all together fly to Europe and play Roadburn and do this tour. And I just thought, they were playing in Denver the next day and thought why don’t I just get in the van with you. I’ll sell your merch for the next two weeks and then I don’t have to fly to Louisville. I’ll just get a free ride, we’ll all have a wild time and I’ll help you out. And I got in that van and I just never got out. And now I’m married to Evan, So it’s a pretty good deal.

Talk about collaborating with Evan (Patterson, husband, Young Widows/Jaye Jayle songwriter and singer) .

Light Song is a love song. And so, he’s the answer, you know. I sang on their album. We did that record right after we came back from Europe. I had to cancel a bunch of shows because I was physically destroyed. I just went to the studio to recover and he had written that song (Marry Us). It was so weird. Like a sort of strange magic. He wrote that song before I got in the van. I sang on it. We had been singing together on tour. We were singing Run Forever when we played that song live. Those two songs, Marry Us andLight Song are like secret partner songs. So, if you’re a fan that’s paying attention, it’s kind of a cute thing. That there’s these matching love songs on the records that we both sing on together. I think it’s cute.

I do too! Thanks for talking to us, congrats on the new album. Have a great tour.

Photo by Geert Braekers

#Emma Ruth Rundle #Addicted Magazine #On Dark Horses

[fmdtaesung]

self para 001

location: taesung’s apartment, gangnam, seoul time and date: march 10th 2018, 9:32 pm  word count: 1292 words

Taesung remembers it all.

Strong hands cradling his head, pulling his face to bury against a sturdy chest. He remembers the particular scent of coffee mixed with cigarettes and a faint sterile smell that clings to anyone who works at a hospital. He remembers the tightening of arms around him, providing the then child with the sort of comfort he could not seek anywhere else – a blanket, that would protect him not only in his dreams but also in real life, unlike the blue one that covered his body during cold nights. He remembers the voice, the low and reassuring tone that was just as able to yell, lecturing others for their misbehavior, as it was to soothe, smooth like the fine-tuned guitar that he used to play for Taesung - the voice was present in his dreams for years after it was no longer around physically. He remembers the feeling of invincibility, of knowing that, whatever happened, the older man would be around to support him, the strong concrete structures of what would come to be his life.

Taesung remembers it all, but most times he wishes he could forget. He wishes those memories could vanish like the many others who had throughout the years, joining each other in the limbo of his conscience, left there to rot away and gather dust, no longer able to haunt Tae’s very existence. He wishes he could pretend the man had never existed, that he’d been the fruit of an immaculate conception like the one the Christians preach about – and yes, perhaps that’s a form of heresy, but he reckons he’d have taken the life of a prophet fated to walk to his own death but who was loved by an adopted father over the one of a man anguished with the thought of becoming like the one who had been responsible for his existence, the same man who hadn’t hesitated upon abandoning him.

These thoughts suffocate him. He can’t allow himself to sink into the hollow state of being the thinking opens the gates to, for he’s done that repeatedly in the past and Tae knows the battle to free himself from the anchor that pulls him down yet again is going to leave him with marks he won’t be able to shake off. But it’s almost like life, the universe, destiny, can’t stand to see him being free for once, because a phone call almost shatters the determination in his bones to avoid the likely panicked state his mind would fall into.

A strange number is the first indication that perhaps Taesung should avoid the call, but for years he’s been living an unshakable life and there’s not many precautions he’s known to take. “Yeah?” He answers it thoughtlessly, hand resting on top of Maru’s head, fingers scratching behind her ears.

“Son?” Comes the answer, and it takes every fragment of strength in Taesung’s body for him to not toss the cellphone across the room. His every movement stills, even his breathing is held up for as long as he can, and a part of Taesung hopes the man is going to resign to the fact that he doesn’t want to be spoken to. “Taesung? It’s me, dad.”

Dad. That word is enough to send Taesung spiraling back into years of self-questioning and of doubts about his worth. After all, if he wasn’t good enough to keep his own father from leaving, how could he be good enough to keep anyone else around? On the contrary, he’s proved, time and time again, that he’s just as good as getting rid of others and reinforcing their insignificance as the older man once was. Like father, like son.

“H-how did you-you get my number?” The question is stuttered out, words having to be punched out of his throat for there’s simply no amount of will that can keep Taesung from cowering with the older man’s voice in his ear.

“I asked your grandfather for it,” the one that had always had a soft spot for his Ahn Taeeun, even after what Taesung’s father had put the older man’s daughter through. His blood boils with an unfamiliar bout of rage towards his grandfather – how could he? Allowing the one person in the world that manages to unsettle Tae beyond repair, to reach out to him? “I know it’s been a long time, son, but I’d really like to meet you. I’d like to talk to you, properly.”

“You-you lost the right to-to think that when you stopped answering my-my calls thirteen fucking years ago,” Taesung wants to clap his own back, praise himself for the enormity of what talking back to his father means. Perhaps, he thinks, I should face him and tell him to fuck off the way I should’ve years ago. It’s ridiculous that a simple sentence fills him with a type of confidence that doesn’t belong to his broken self.

“Taesung, please,” and the word takes him back to when he was the one begging, clinging to his father’s pants and imploring for him not to walk away from them, from him. He’s grown into a momma’s boy, but he was attached to the hip with his father as a child, and old enough to know that, when the man had stormed out of the door, his retreating back would be the last sight of him Taesung would have. “I just want to see you and Taeyeon. I want to talk to you. To apologize.”

A part of Taesung wants to question after all these years? And it’s one that almost takes over, but- his biggest quality which also happens to be his biggest defect was his too forgiving nature. He knows he should, put forth in his mind the memories of his father that do nothing but break his heart repeatedly, but he chooses to look for the fond ones, the ones of times they’d spend together that Taesung had felt the happiest. His mind plays with him, forcing him into looking at only the good parts of the older man. Tae wants to punch himself, hurt himself, for being so gullible, so easy to manipulate. And yet he lets his father keep talking, explaining things Taesung doesn’t want to hear but can’t help to.

“Okay,” he whispers, voice shaky. He hates it, he hates it so much, that he’s so willing to try and make amends – it’s not even a matter of wanting to meet up with the older man to curse at him to forget about him and his sister. It’s a matter of believing that things can be better, that maybe, just maybe, Taesung isn’t the despicable creature his father had him believing he was. “I-I will meet up with you. Text me the-the time and place.”

He ends the call, not waiting for anything else his father might have to say and tosses the cellphone towards the end of the couch. Taesung doesn’t notice he’s crying until Maru is perching herself on his chest and trying to lick the tears away. In that moment, he’s deadly thankful for the company, since the pet is the only thing keeping him from doing something drastic. The man considers calling his sister, begging for the woman to come over so he won’t be left mostly alone to his thoughts – she’s the one person who’d understand them the most, anyway, would be able to share some of Taesung’s pain, even if she hadn’t been affected by their father departure as much as he had.

In the end he chooses not to. His eyes scan the room and what he finds is a sealed bottle of whiskey just waiting for him to go and grab it.

Taesung wants to forget it all.  

#// this has nothing to do with the event but fbdsifds #i've been meaning to write this for days but it was never meant to be this big #oh WELL #♫ S E L F P A R A | ❛ in hell inhale there’s heaven ❜

[seven-oomen]

The hug and the headcanons were much appreciated.  :D  (You say it started getting long like that’s a bad thing.  But then I am apparently the embodiment of that comment like you’re the drunk girl in the bathroom at the club post, so perhaps I am not the best judge.)  And I don’t know if you were trying to kill me with that new preview, or make me want to kill Chris, but either way, mission accomplished.  I swear, that boy.  He’s gonna give me gray hairs before this is over.  XD  *basks in the warm, fluffy goodness anyway*

Omg, Craft Dad Peter may be one of the best things I’ve ever heard of.  Chris and Noah never have to buy another scarf or pair of gloves, Peter makes them for them (and often for the rest of the pack, too, but his mates get the best) as a way of subtly staking claim.  Bonus points if he finds a way to spin his fur into the yarn (or finds someone to do it for him.)  And it’s all kinds of crafts, too, from a huge painting he does with Allison of the view of the Preserve from Makeout Lookout Point that goes above the mantle at the new house, to macaroni art and finger painting with his youngest kids.  

Also, I feel like one year, maybe after most have gone off to college and sneaking is a bit easier, Malia badgers her siblings and other dads into finding whatever old baby/toddler clothes they might still have and helping her make them into a patchwork quilt for Peter since he had to miss so much (if not all) of that time with them.  Chris and Noah also throw in a couple of their shirts from high school; faded flannel and ratty band gear intermixing with brightly colored superhero logos an well worn sports jerseys, corduroy, and denim and a little bit of lace, in all colors of the rainbow from jewel tones to pastels.  She even leaves some room to add stuff from the later kids, because she knows they’re going to want more.  

Needless to say, there are a lot of tears (like, a LOT), and it instantly becomes his favorite for curling up in front of the TV, or out on the porch to watch the sunset, or just wherever, in whatever form.  It goes over so well they end up making another one with stuff donated from everyone in the pack so that it ends up huge and always comes out for movie nights and puppy piles.  (Wow, that idea kinda got away from me, but I ain’t even mad.)

Loving the descent into nsfw and related ideas.  Always here for those three teasing the ever-loving shit out of each other, because that’s just the way they are.  I feel like Chris and Noah are much more successful at pulling stunts in public, because they’re much better at faking innocence and making it seem accidental.  Lbr, Peter is terrible at looking innocent, even when he is.  

They both get so low-key annoyed that Peter’s werewolf healing means they can’t really leave much in the way of lasting marks, whereas Chris ends up with bruises and stubble burn in the most inconvenient and awkward places, and Noah seems forever doomed to look like he got attacked by an extremely aggressive push broom from the neck down.  

Oh god, Peter and Chris would totally rig anything that needed repair around the house so that it would only finally break when Noah was off so they could see him up a ladder changing light bulbs in a snug, worn t-shirt, or reaching underneath a sink or cabinet.  They just lean back and enjoy the show with a nice chilled drink.  He gets them back by conveniently being on shift whenever one of the kids moves back for a while and needs furniture moved.  

All the Omegas in the pack get extensive training in proper self defense, which leads to Peter getting banned from the premises because his expressions and scent while watching Noah and Chris spar to demonstrate creeps everyone else right tf out.  

I feel like Chris probably does a lot of the cooking, between having lived on his own the most and debatably being home the most.  So sometimes when they have the house to themselves Peter and Noah try to get Chris to cook wearing only an apron (frilly or not is up to you).  (Actually, depending on what share of the chores he takes on my brain just screamed out of nowhere FRENCH MAID’S OUTFIT and now I can’t stop laughing, oh god, I just keep picturing these terrible porny roleplays where the police officer is just checking in because there have been reports of break-ins and he “just wants to make sure all entrances and exits are properly secured” and of course the maid just wants to be helpful and fetches the master of the house[is he wearing a smoking jacket and silk pajamas? 

 I think the answer is obviously yes] to assist their “routine search"  [oh god, please help, I’m wheezing.])  I’m pretty sure somebody gets fucked on the washing machine (and by somebody I obviously mean both of them.  They go through a LOT of cleaner in that house, lbh.)  

And poor Stiles just will NOT let the Incident, as he calls it, go.  Whenever he’s irritated with one of them he’ll send them some variation of the "right in front of my salad” meme to be an asshole.  

They very definitely make sure that all the bedrooms have nicely soundproofed walls, because there are things none of the kids want to hear (except maybe Erica or Lydia).  Totally here for pet names/sweet nothings/dirty talk/whatev in a variety of languages, especially French and Polish, obvs.  (cue Gomez mode - “Why Chris, that’s French…”)  

And I do love that drag queen headcanon so much, especially for this ‘verse.  The Stiles and Jax better be careful or their dads might just be forced to prove how much they can still rock that look if they want to (I may or may not have had a running list/idea in my head of which outfit from a Lady Gaga video each parent would wear if they were all dressing to theme for some reason [I don’t really remember why.  You might have noticed my mind goes off on weird, unexplained tangents when left unattended.])

Love all the family bonding stuff.  I feel like Peter would totally organize back-to-school shopping trips for all the pack kids so that they can all head back with all their necessary supplies and rockin’ new wardrobes.  Chris teaches them camping and outdoor survival.  Noah somehow ends up organizing sing-a-longs when they have bonfires while Chris is in charge of s'mores ingredients (neither tries to make Peter or Derek join in if they aren’t feeling it, and take turns to go and check in with cuddles and support throughout the evening.)  

I always liked to headcanon that Noah was a drummer, mainly I think because Dylan is, so people usually made Stiles one, so I figured he might have learned from his dad.  This was also because I loved the idea of Stiles having everybody over for a Rock Band party and having his dad sub in for him on the drums so he could grab some food, and everyone being utterly astounded at how well he could play (since the drums seem the closest controller to the actual instrument.)  

But the idea of him and Malia playing duets together is super adorable, particularly the idea of them playing Polish lullabies for the twins (or Ben, or other Argent-Hale child), or Chris singing French ones for the little ones (or the dads could team up Three Men and a Baby style, I’m here for all of it, really.) 

 And all the wolfy goodness!  Wolf Peter just straight up flopping across one or both of his mates while they try to read or watch TV because he needs attention right now and wants to cuddle.  Chris scratching all the right places.  Noah using a variant of the healing magic to loosen all of Peter’s tensed muscles as he pets along his back and sides.  Good stuff.  (Occasionally Ben or one of the younger wolves, if there are any, will shift and climb up next to them to nuzzle at his face or gnaw on his tail.  Usually by then he’s so relaxed he doesn’t even mind.)  Using him as a bonus cushion when curling up together.  World’s Biggest Teddy Bear.  

And Jackson would totally take advantage of his cuteness.  He got Peter’s ruthlessness and Chris’s puppy-eyes skills.  The younger kids keep finding ways to work him into their Halloween costumes because he can somehow convince people to give them more candy even though “dogs can’t have chocolate…"  He doesn’t mind helping his baby siblings, and enjoys the chance to prove just how good he is.  

Malia is totally the one who’d just nope out of the conversation, but I think she’d also be the one to (most) help Ben develop his shifted skills and really feel comfortable in both forms.  

Poor Derek, he’s just like "I am not a goddamn herding dog, corral your kids!”, but he’s not fooling anybody and loves the way the twins just stare at him mesmerized and gently petting at his soft fluffy fur.  He absolutely lets them climb on him and ride around until they get too big to do it (then they just hang off his arms or piggy back whenever he visits.)

And that last flash-forward headcanon is so cute.  I feel like the spot should be on a porch swing, but given how much time I spent on my grandparents’, I’m probably a bit biased .  There’s a wind chime made of broken guitar strings and spare car parts (with a base carved by Stiles) that hangs nearby, ringing gently in the breeze as they sway.  They curl up under one of Peter and Malia’s quilts, legs tangled together, backs pressed up against pillows set up against the arms for support.  Peter sits on the steps, leaning on the banister, or maybe gently sprawled in a nearby matching chair, enjoying the view of his family and the quiet peacefulness of the moment. *insert reaction shot of Ghost Rider going “yessss- YESSSSS-” here*

Anyway, I’m glad your day was stupidity free, and I hope your cat is feeling calmer and well comforted.  And hopefully the weather cleared up there like it did here, though also hopefully without leaving as much humidity behind as we got.  Ah well, pretty much standard for summer around here, so.

Oh man I definitely got carried away a bit and no, there’s nothing wrong with that but I also idk, I’m not used to talking about something I love I guess. Especially not so freely with someone who’s really genuinely interested in hearing it.

Also idk what it is, probably fatigue and dyslexia in my add brain, but I have enormous trouble concentrating right now. So, I decided I would answer this submission before bed instead of writing. Well technically I’m writing now too, there’s that. Anyway...

Where was I? I feel like I just had an entire conversation in my brain and it’s already gone.

Okay, okay, Imma try to do this.

Chris is just, he’s a very scarred boy who’s very insecure. Noah will help him though and I hope it feels in character but fluff is coming.

And I really don’t have the focus to answer all of these headcanons but I love them, they made smile and giggle and they got me through hell today and I just. I really wish I had the brain capacity today to answer all of them.. Because yes to everything!

Do you know how hard it is to ask someone about their wifi connections when you’re reading about French Maid outfits and bad cop outfits and body cavity searches??? Do YOU??? 

It’s very hard and I had to try so hard not to laugh while guiding one lady through her ‘my remote is not working’ emergency.

And the quilt thing killed me, YEEEESSS. Omg I love your headcanons so much.

I also can’t stop picturing Peter as Gomez and Chris & Noah as Morticia. Also, Jackson is Wednesday and Stiles is Pugsley. I don’t make the rules.

Ughhh omg Idea for a pack run where they all go camping in the woods and Peter initiates a pack run, the first for Ben and Jackson. And they’re all wolfing out and Peter, with his red eyes, just howls up and everyone just howls with him. But Ben can’t keep up and just start hiccuping (This is what I  imagine Ben would look like anyway and it’s the cutest thing) and cuddles up to Chris because it’s all a bit much. 

So Peter comes over and gently nuzzles the cub until Ben’s wagging his tail again and being all playful. And that initiates a pack play session where Ben ‘takes down’ Peter and the other wolves just nip and bark around them playfully while Chris, Noah, Allison, and Stiles watch them with their cameras out and smiles on their faces.

The pack then takes off for a run and return ten minutes later all tuckered out, Ben’s held up by the scruff of his neck by Peter. Jackson is practically asleep on his paws and Malia is yawning by the time they get back. So they curl up with their respective twins and mates. Malia is curled around Stiles and Allison protectively curls around Jackson’s huge wolf form. Ben’s curled up in Chris’s lap, Chris and Noah are huddled together and Peter’s just curled around the three of them. Derek curls up with both sets of twins to keep them safe.

Full moons are extremely lively for this family.

And Derek is such a sucker for the pups in the pack. He keeps complaining and bitching, but honestly, he loves kids, he loves babies and he’s such a sucker for them. Ben, the twins, and the new baby just can do no wrong for him. He’ll keep corralling them and cuddling them when he gets the chance.

God, I love these threads so much, but I think I already said that. lol

Anyway, that’s what my brain has right now, but honestly, I love all of these. Every single one is precious.

#ben says stuff #once upon a time comments #I want to react and love all of these indiviually but my brain won't let me #i love them though #i really do #submission

[andrewdburton]

A self-made man

My father died twenty-four years ago today.

As I drove to the airport this morning — I'm on a short trip to San Diego — my mind drifted back to him and what he was like.

I don't think of Dad often anymore, and when I do it's mostly superficial stuff: Dad was fat. His hair was wild and wavy. He could be gruff. He was funny and had a contagious laugh. Sometimes he wasn't a very nice guy. Sometimes he was. But it's tough to remember what Dad was like as a presence, you know?

What I remember most about him was how Dad could do anything he set his mind to. This isn't nostalgic hero worship. It's how he actually was. My father could teach himself to do anything he wanted. And he wanted to do a lot.

A Self-Made Man

I'm not sure where my father's love of learning and experimenting came from. His parents were a simple, devout Mennonite couple.

When I knew Grandma and Grandpa, they managed a small farm. They had milk cows. They raised blueberries. They grew and canned vegetables. Grandpa cut his own wood. He'd been a janitor at the local high school, but by the time I was around, he was retired. Every night, he and Grandma sipped Sanka and played Scrabble. Their existence was simple, ordered, and serene.

My father wasn't simple. His life wasn't ordered. He was not a serene man. He was complex. He was messy. He was boisterous. He was a force of nature. (I come by my ADD honestly.) He had many interests, and he liked to indulge them all.

Dad wanted to be a pilot, so he took flying lessons. In his twenties, he became a flight instructor at a small local airpot. When my brothers and I were young, he'd sometimes take one of us on a joy ride to Salem or Eugene. He stopped flying, though, after crashing his Cessna while practicing touch-and-go landings in the field behind our trailer house.

Dad wanted to sail solo to Hawaii. Throughout the 26 years that I knew him, he nearly always owned a sailboat. (The only times he didn't were when our family was mired deepest in poverty.) When I was very young, he built his own sailboat following instructions in borrowed library books. My family didn't travel for family vacations; my parents took us sailing down (and up) the Columbia River.

Dad loved electronics. He built a lot of his own gadgets, designing and soldering circuit boards. When I was old enough, he helped me build a radio so that I could listen to Portland Timbers games and old-time radio dramas on local stations.

Dad built other stuff too. He built so much stuff that projects were often abandoned half-finished.

He ground mirrors to build his own telescope — then left them lying around in a bedroom drawer for years. He constructed a windmill, but something about his math was off and the thing collapsed from the weight of the canvas sails when he tried to mount them. He constructed outbuildings on our two acres, and then built an addition to the back of the trailer house — an addition that was never really completed.

In high school, I took over Dad's car — a 1982 Datsun 310GX. (Looking back, I'm not sure how this happened but it did.) The car “blew a head gasket” one day. Rather than pay a mechanic to repair it, Dad tore the engine apart himself, found and fixed the problem, then re-assembled everything. He taught me how to change the oil and the brake pads and the headlights…but there's now way I could ever pull apart an engine!

When personal computers became “affordable” in 1977 — looking back, they were the equivalent of $11,000 in today's dollars! — Dad bought one and taught himself to program it. (And I taught myself to program it too.)

My father could play guitar, fly an airplane, sail a boat, build a boat, build a computer, program a computer, build a radio, build a greenhouse, build a house, repair an engine, write fiction and poetry, build complex machinery, build a telescope, start a business (or six), and more. And he taught himself how to do almost all of these things.

A Serial Entrepreneur

As I've mentioned before, my father was a serial entrepreneur. He was always starting businesses.

He programmed accounting software but could never find anyone to buy it. (It was 1980, I think. He was a few years too early.) He built a greenhouse complete with automated watering system, then tried to start a nursery. Nobody wanted to buy his azalea and arborvitae. He mowed lawns. He sold chocolate bars.

Most of his business ventures failed, but twice he hit paydirt.

First, he built a business called Harvest Mills, which first manufactured wheat grinders, then added food dryers to the line-up.

In 1985, eight years after he sold Harvest Mills, Dad founded Custom Box Service, a company that produces small runs of corrugated packaging. Dad designed and built all of the machinery himself. Those machines have been in constant use for thirty-three years. They haven't been completely trouble-free, but come on! These are machines created by a random guy from rural Oregon. That's pretty amazing.

A Modern Homesteader

When I was in second grade, my parents decided they wanted to move to Canada. For once, they were flush with money. My father had sold Harvest Mills to a bankruptcy attorney in Utah and was to be paid $5000 every three months for the next fifteen years.

When Dad had money, he liked to spend it. If he had money, he'd buy a sailboat. Or an airplane. Or a hi-fi stereo. Or a personal computer.

This time was no different. This time, though, he wanted to use the money to buy twenty (or forty) acres in rural British Columbia. I don't know why. (He was always afraid of nuclear war, though, so this could very well have been a way to escape the “blast zone”.)

Mom and Dad piled us three kids into one of our two beat-up Plymouth Valiants — we called one “dirty white” and the other “dirty red” — and drove us fourteen hours north to Vanderhoof, a small town that's pretty much what you'd expect to find in central B.C. so close to Alaska. There, we spent a long weekend in real-estate offices and visiting properties.

I remember driving down dirt roads and strolling along swollen streams. I remember wandering around farmyards. I remember watching a war movie in our hotel room. But I don't remember any of the houses we visited, and I don't remember why we never moved. My guess is that Dad didn't have as much money as he thought he did. Or perhaps Mom had objections to moving to the middle of nowhere?

Instead, he bought twenty or forty acres near the trailer house and tried his hand at being a wheat farmer. It was hot and dirty work, but it was another thing that he could teach himself to master. Unfortunately, he had no way to master the national economy, which didn't have a high demand for wheat when it came time to sell. He abandoned that venture too.

An Inspiration

One of my favorite exercises is trying to trace a financial family tree. What did my parents teach me about money? What attitudes did I get from them? What habits? And what did their parents pass onto them? Did I get anything from that generation?

Dad was self-reliant…and he wasn't. He could do almost anything…but he seldom did. He was a dreamer…but he rarely pursued his dreams.

For many years, I thought of myself as “not like Dad”. I don't know if this was a conscious decision or if I simply believed that I was different. In any event, I didn't think of myself as a DIY guy. I couldn't build a windmill or a sailboat or a telescope. I couldn't repair an automobile engine.

In recent years, however, I've been very aware of just how much I picked up from my father, how much he influenced my money blueprint. I can see where I got many of my ideas and habits and values.

I'm intellectually curious. I'm entrepreneurial. I love travel and adventure. I'm drawn to the idea of living somewhere remote — just me and Kim and our zoo. And lately I'm learning to love DIY.

The older I get, the more I see my father in me.

The post A self-made man appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/self-made-man/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[theseventhhex]

HDLSS Interview

Far & Wolfy

HDLSS is a “nocturnal pop” duo from Ridgewood, NY, consisting of Far and Wolfy. ‘Selections from DUMB’ is the latest release from the duo since going on hiatus in 2012. Throughout, the range within the album explores celebrating the hope that it is possible to inhabit relative truths and think independently in a fractured post-truth era. Furthermore, embracing the multiplicity of truth and inhabiting as many POVs as possible to increase empathy also plays a key factor. For Far, as a Muslim, this is a guiding principle to avoid feeling jaded, because witnessing the demonisation of Muslims everyday gets tough. Grappling with the notion of complicity and cultural apathy, ‘Selections from DUMB’ brings to light the stark perils of modern society, whilst refreshingly maintaining a thought-provoking overall stance… We talk to Far about genre-hopping, false flags and spirituality in America…

TSH: Talk us through the idea of witnessing one's own dumbing down being central for your album 'Selections from DUMB'...

Far: The core narrative of the album came more from a personal place than trying to make a political statement or anything like that. I started writing the album as I was going through a pretty transformative period, and in the wake of this period, I began examining where self-destructive impulse comes from, as well as inclinations towards groupthink/my fear of losing the ability to think for myself (and not realising it). I wanted to delve into the notion of losing your creativity, of embracing consumption more than production which I kind of equate with dumbness. Inevitably the record also has a fair bit to do with technology, including the odd effects of the rise of social media and modern anxieties. I guess I see the album as this simultaneous out of body experience where you see yourself going on this trajectory towards destruction, yet you can’t help but exist in this tunnel vision because you are too numb, dumb and tired to really understand the gravity of the long term effects, so we end up just going on autopilot, doing what the hive mind tells us to do.

TSH: The instrumentation throughout the release covers a vast array of genres too…

Far: That's something that comes naturally because Wolfy and I are not versed in any one thing. Our friendship dates back to high school, when we were both really into post-rock and in love with Sigur Ros. Our pre-HDLSS stuff was more one genre, but now we are at a point now where we are more concerned with shaping sounds no matter their origin or context, ugly or beautiful, as opposed to focusing on any one instrument, like a guitar. Musically we are capable of diving into many genres and doing our take on them, so that’s kind of what we did, and often whatever genre we were working within aides the concept or story the song tells. Basically for us any sound is fair game if we can record/produce/sample/manipulate it, which ends up stripping the normal context and creates something new and transformative. Soon instruments and genre will be obsolete.

TSH: What lead to the notable shift in your overall sound?

Far: The shift happened when we got this new recording program Abelton. Previously, we used this early 2000’s DJ program I got free on a rebate, and we embraced using broken instruments and whatever was laying around, and then we would manipulate and add effects sort of creating electronic music out of organic instruments. But, once we got Ableton, we switched over to doing everything electronically. This was both an aesthetic choice and a necessity. It definitely opened our possibilities infinitely, because suddenly we had literally every instrument that has ever existed at our fingertips virtually. And for me, it allowed me to focus on more nuanced aspects of songwriting.

TSH: How would you sum-up your lyrical expressions?

Far: I like to create some distance between myself and the writing, so the words are sometimes an exaggerated narrator’s point of view. But mainly they draw from real life, usually something conceptual or philosophical that is grounded in something experiential.

TSH: What are the origins of a track like 'Colonizer'?

Far: That track underwent quite a few changes. It started off as a trap song, but eventually it morphed into a Caribbean sound and rhythm, so we just embraced that, kind of mirroring the whole “tropical house” trend white pop music like Ed Sheeran or Bieber. The lyrics are about appropriation, it's sort of an open letter to white people that deny white guilt and privilege.

TSH: Were you intrigued to put across a song in relation to conspiracies with 'False Flag'?

Far: Yeah, I was definitely intrigued. That track came from influences of my brother, he kind of goes down the rabbit hole with that stuff. I mean there are the obvious ones like 9/11; it's almost indisputable at this point to know that there was some inside communication or knowledge of the events taking place on that day. The question of a building being able to free-fall in that manner via a plane has been widely disputed by many experts within the field. Then there are the extremes, like Sandy Hook and how it could have been crisis actors. There are all sorts of stuff and I don't know how much I buy into, but that's the point behind the song. It's not about whether it's true or not, but instead that it provokes questions and expands the narrative. After all, the truth is just a spectrum and it's very hard to find truth in the media anyway.

TSH: How did you go about forming 'Cult of Dumb'?

Far: That one is made out of samples entirely. We downloaded stems from this band we love Twin Sister posted on their site, and at first we were going to do a remix, but instead it ended up being a cover/mashup of 2 of their songs (that is actually coming out soon). I then took that file and cannibalised some of the sounds to make an entirely new song. That actually happens a lot with us where remixes turn into a new song entirely, and I end up making new vocal melodies. Making that song out of samples was intentional to reinforce the idea that no-one really owns anything, as the song is about the cult of capitalism, and how we are addicted to the things that dumb us down.

TSH: Do you very much feel that's there's a lack of spirituality in America?

Far: Yeah, for sure. I'm not necessarily critiquing Americans and I'm not really pessimistic as a person. If anything, I’ll criticise myself before I criticise someone else. But it’s something I see in myself. Growing up as a South Asian American, I was more concerned with assimilating and being accepted as an American and not being singled out as the one brown kid in school than maybe embracing my own culture as much as I should have. I moved around a lot as a kid, so it was hard to ever really fit in mostly white schools, but music definitely helped me form my identity and find like-minded people. Music brings me peace and is even spiritual for me. But now at this age when I reflect on past depression and this void that has been central to my life, I do recognise the value of religion and spirituality. I find it sad that assimilation in this country is sometimes at the cost of one’s culture/religion/spirituality. I see that in my family and how certain cultural things have been lost, which is true for any immigrant family. Maybe Americans aren't as religious because being pacified by quick fixes is the American way, but I'm guilty of that too. The lack of spirituality is a critique of my life in America too - how I've lived and how I can change that.

TSH: Did your parents growing up in Kenya impact you at all?

Far: Yeah, in some ways. Both of my parents are from Kenya, they met in England and my dad went to school in England before moving to America for graduate school. Both of them came from large families and I think placed America on this pedestal, as many people around the world do. America was a chance to change things and achieve more. So I think sometimes when immigrants come here, some are quick to embrace American ways and perceive the West as better. People growing up in post-colonial societies bring baggage of white superiority complexes. So it’s easy to come here and kind of lose the essence and spirituality because America replaces those values, and America represents this opportunity for more, and we all want to make our parents proud and achieve more due to the sacrifices they made for us to get the chance to do so. So yeah, I think in those ways it does affect me, because I am only realising now the damage done and my responsibility, and perhaps how I can try and repair some of it by learning and carrying on traditions.

TSH: What gives you most clarity in your daily life?

Far: Music is definitely my happy place. I also have a day job as a teacher and I love doing that as it provides a nice counterpoint to music. I feel music is so insular, it can be selfish and self-involved, so I love the balance of teaching and seeing a direct impact on kids.

TSH: Do you kick back and watch much TV?

Far: Yeah, I love the Adult Swim kind of stuff. I really enjoy watching Rick and Morty, Tim and Eric, those Bret Gelman specials, Moral Orel… I enjoy the absurdity side of that kind of stuff, the kind of dark humour stuff.

TSH: As you look ahead, what ideas do you have in mind for future work?

Far: Well, this is our first proper full length after taking a hiatus in 2012. The work we did back then one was more DIY and hap hazard, that first record was not really thought of as an album, therefore getting this latest record done was a huge accomplishment for us. We have made so much music that we have enough for a companion album and that's how we thought of things when we set out to make this record. We want to put out more music, still under the same 'DUMB' umbrella, as we're not done with this concept because we haven't really encapsulated the whole thing, so we have more music coming. The companion to 'DUMB' will be more personal and more narrative driven, as opposed to using genre to tell stories and concepts; I think it might be more accessible too, ha! More immediately than that companion album are two other works, one is a covers EP, and the other is a remix album. So lots to come!

Selections from DUMB

#Interview #HDLSS

[wtfalexx]

tagging → hayden kennedy & alexander james

location →  los angeles, alex’s parent’s house

timeframe → friday, july 14th

Alex: Around seven at night the male was finally walking back into the house and he was helping his mother in. Walking upstairs to bring her bags to the parent's room and running back to help her sit on the couch as his stepfather had hold of the baby. Natalie as finally returned home an hour before, but she was avoiding everyone due to the big bruise she had on her neck. Alex cleared his throat and without a word, handing Alex the baby before he could protest. He huffed and looked down at the kid. "You're ugly." He let out as she sat down on the couch, holding the baby in his arms.

Hayden: Hayden hadn't necessarily wanted to leave Alex at the hospital without warning but the day had ended up being productive. Earlier in the week, Alex had a label meeting which left Hayden to her own devices. It hadn't taken her long to find what she was looking for online, taking an Uber to the instrument repair shop and dropping off the precious cargo and promising to return later in the week. She just needed to find the time. Now, seeing everyone was back at the home earlier than she expected- or maybe the day had just gotten away from her- she knew she had to be careful walking into the house with the long cardboard boxing, that hid the new case guitar, under her arm. Thankfully, she managed to creep upstairs and stash the package beneath the guest room's bed before making her way back downstairs like nothing had happened at all. Though, she was a bit nervous to intrude on the family time since Preston had made such a point of shooing her away earlier. Standing in the doorway of the family room with her hands behind her back, she watched quietly as Alex held the newborn baby in his arms, a small smile appearing on her lips.

Alex: The male kept his eyes on the baby as he furrowed his eyebrows at him. He still wasn't too fond of the newborn, but he also wasn't complaining. He was leaving soon so it wasn't his issue on how many times it would cry in a night. "You can come here, Hayden." The male let out softly, feeling her presence as he looked up at her, nodding her head toward the seat next to him.

Hayden: Hesitating for a moment, she kept her hands tucked behind her back as she gingerly crossed the room to take a seat where he motioned for her to sit. She still wasn't sure it was her place to be there but, seeing Alex with the baby had her heart skipping in her chest. Not that she wanted children ever but, the sight was still adorable to her. The way the baby seemed to gaze up at him had her smiling all over again. "He's beautiful." She mumbled.

Alex: His mother smiled over at her son as he held the newborn before standing up to go find her husband. "He's ugly." The male countered to the girl who sat next to him. He wasn't but babies always looked like this when they were first born. He looked up at the girl "Where did you go?" He asked her, raising his right scarred eyebrow.

Hayden: Hayden offered Mary a small smile as she left the room, leaving her alone with Alex. "He's not ugly." She chastised, cooing at the baby but keeping her hands firmly in her lap. She had zero experience with babies. Dark eyes flashing up to Alex and his question, she simply shrugged nonchalantly. "Just for a run." She hummed though it was obviously a lie considering she was in jeans. Hayden shifted her attention back to the newborn, leaning over slightly to get a better look. "I think he likes you."

Alex: The male looked up when his mom walked away and made a small face. They were leaving him alone for a moment with someone he didn't even want to see. The inner child jealously peeking more and more as Hayden cooed at it. "Wanna hold him?" He asked her, just trying to get the kid out his arms. His eyebrow stayed up as he nodded. "Running in jeans, okay." He chuckled, not pushing. He looked down at the kid and shrugged. "He'll learn to hate me."

Hayden: Eyes going wide, they darted from the baby to Alex and back again. "Um," her hands clasped together in her lap. "You look so good holding him, though." A flimsy excuse. Truthfully, she did want to hold him but didn't want to be dismissed by Preston again. He had made her feel uncomfortable enough earlier in the day at the hospital. Hayden tucked her dark hair behind her ears and let out a quiet sigh as Alex chuckled. "Your step-dad," her voice lowered so nobody could hear but them. "Asked me to leave the hospital today. So I went out for a bit." Even if she didn't want him to know the surprise she had for him, she still didn't feel right lying completely. She slumped back in the chair, continuing to watch the way baby Jeremy's eyes were glued to Alex. "Doubt it."

Alex: He furrowed his eyebrows a little as Hayden started to tell him stepfather asked her to leave earlier in the day. "I'm going to fuckin' kill him one day." He huffed a little putting his eyes back to the baby, leaning back a little on the couch. He shrugged a little. "I'm sorry about him, love. My mom will probably talk sense into him. You're not going anywhere, so." He explained as he looked at her again. Soon after a few minutes, the baby started fussing and crying. "Told you." He said as he mimicked the baby's crying a little and looked around as his mom came back and took Jeremy from the male who looked like he didn't know what to do.

Hayden: "It's okay, really." She promised softly, truthfully not too bothered by Preston's actions. Maybe it was family time anyway. She wanted to ask what the private conversation he'd had with his mum was about but knew that would be asking too much. Her curiosity needed to learn boundaries. "Oh my god." She chuckled, fingertips pressing to her lips as he mimicked the poor baby. Mary waltzed back into the room and it was as if she were a walking pacifier. The moment she scooped Jeremy up he seemed to settle, maybe only needing his mother for a moment. "Aw." She let out softly, eyes still on the baby before her attention was turning back to Alex. "What are your plans for the evening? Should I-" her head nodded towards the stairs, silently asking if maybe she should make herself scarce so he could spend alone time with his mom.

Alex: "It's not fine." He countered. To him, it wasn't. He didn't care if Preston told him things, he couldn't bring Hayden into it as well. She was her own person. When his mom came and took the baby from him he could breathe as he crossed his arms to his torso, his hair in his face and not bothering to fix it. He looked at her as he hummed and looked at the stairs. "We can go upstairs if you like." He said as he stood up and held his hand out.

Hayden: She didn't say anything more on the topic. She wanted the night to go well and an altercation between Alex and his step-dad wasn't on the list. Hayden reached out to take his hand, standing out of the chair and using her other hand to run her fingers through his hair to tame the disheveled mess. Though his mum surely noticed the affectionate gesture, Hayden didn't really mind as she pulled both of her hands away from him. "You stay down here. I'm feeling a little sick so I'm going to go lay down. You spend time with your family." She winked before offering his mum a smile and turning to leave the room. She was feeling fine of course but she had things to get organized to surprise him with later.

Alex: The male was now worn out after the two hours he spent with his mom downstairs talking. It was nice since he didn't get to do that at all during the trip at home. Ordering pizza and eating he went upstairs to find Hayden, thinking she was in his room. His dogs pattering up the stairs with him he opened his door and walked into his room.

Hayden: She hadn't napped at all. Instead, Hayden took her time stripping out of what she'd been wearing all day, a purposefully selected outfit to hide the marks all over her skin, to wear only her robe before she had checked her texts, responding to a few and deciding to leave the rest for another time. She hadn't been eavesdropping but she could tell when the conversation downstairs was coming to a close and that was her cue to run the bath in the en suite connected to Alex's room, putting a healthy amount of the vanilla scented bubbles she had purchased with her free time earlier that day in, before tiptoeing across to the guest room to retrieve the package under the bed. The sound of Alex padding upstairs and the little dog feet following behind had her heart racing. She hoped she hadn't overstepped any boundaries. The long cardboard box was nondescript so he wouldn't know what it was right away, thankfully. "Hey." She let out gently as she entered the room behind him, double checking with a glance that the bathroom door was closed before she was shutting his bedroom door with her foot and crossing the room to set the package on the bed. "Did you have fun?"

Alex: He walked over to his desk to put down his glasses as his dogs jumped on his bed. Hayden wasn't in there so he just assumed she was sleeping in the guest room. He was about two seconds from making his way to his bathroom to shower before he heard his door open and he heard Hayden's voice. He raised his eyebrow and turned as he leaned against his desk noticing how she was dressed in her robe. Raising his eyebrow as he shrugged. "As much fun as one can have with said parents." He let out before he nodded his head toward the package. "What's that?"

Hayden: Her weight shifted from foot to foot for a moment as she let out a quiet chuckle. "I'm sure it was fun." She hummed, taking a seat on the bed next to the package and extending her hand out to him. "Come here." She whispered though she didn't really mean to. There were butterflies in her stomach the anticipation of what the would think to make her nerves flutter. She had strategically placed her suitcase in front of where the broken guitar sat in his room so he wouldn't be able to see it or notice when it went missing. But now she wondered if she shouldn't have touched it without permission at all. Her lip caught between her teeth briefly before she was speaking again. "I wanted to say thank you for bringing me here."

Alex: He pushed off the desk and walked slowly over to the girl and the box as his hand touched the box lightly. A small rested on his lips as he scrunched his nose up a little as he shrugged. "Don't worry about it. You've never been so it was nice to show you the city, honestly. I hope you loved it as much as I liked the city."

Hayden: "I did. I loved every second of it. Didn't even get bit by a shark." She mused with a playful smirk. She didn't know what else to say about it, the trip had been life changing, as silly as it sounded, and as her eyes watched his fingers on the box she knew there was no way to convey that to him in words. "Open it." She finally mumbled after a beat of silence, her fingertips drumming against the side of the box before she was holding her hands in her lap and watching his face expectantly.

Alex: "I'm glad, love." He chuckled as he pressed a light kiss to her temple. He turned fully to the box as she said open it. First, he was confused because it was a box and he didn't want her buying him anything, especially if he didn't deserve it. Slowly opened the box, he pulled the top off and saw the guitar case. "A guitar?" He chuckled, he had many of those back in NYC. Opening it slowly, his eyebrows furrowed together before he looked to see her suitcase in the spot where he thought he had the broken guitar in. Soon he was turning his head back and taking it out the box and sitting down next to Hayden with it. He needed to see if it worked first before he had any reaction to it. Tuning it a little, he strummed a little to one of his songs before a smile was resting on his lips. "How did you fix this?" He chuckled, his face clear he was surprised but also happy.

Hayden: She kept quiet, humming a little when he kissed her temple but other than that she was dead quiet as she watched him open the packed with her hands tucked together beneath her chin. Lip firmly between her teeth, her gaze didn't leave him for a second as he sat next to her to strum the strings. The repair man had assured her that it would sound as good as new. "I didn't." She smiled lightly as she watched him with the guitar. "But I remembered how you had tried way back he- when it was originally so I found a repair shop the other day while you were with your label and picked it up today." There was a quiet hesitation in her words, "what do you think?"

Alex: A bigger smile formed on his lips the more she talked as he strummed more and more. He set the guitar down as he moved over to her to press his lips against hers. A small gesture of a thank you. "Thank you." He whispered after he pulled away, looking right at her. "Really." He assured her once more before kissing her again, this time longer. "I'd cry about it because I'm happy, but you can't see that just yet."

Hayden: Relief washed over her as the smile on his face grew, his lips on hers only cementing that she had done the right thing. Her hand snaked around to the back of his neck as she readily returned the kiss with a quiet sigh. "You're more than welcome." She offered softly. Her fingertips trailed along his neck and jaw before her palm was resting in his cheek. "Hope I don't ever see you cry." She mumbled as she took a moment to press her lips back to his before pulling away and standing off the bed, hands out to take both of his. "Come on, got one more trick up my sleeve."

Alex: He was going to take it to NYC, the guitar. It was one he could add to his collection and one he could play like it was brand new. "Are you kidding? I'd never cry. Unless it's a sad video game." He teased, his nose nudging against hers. He stood up as he connected his hands to hers. "Is it shower sex? Is that why you're in nothing but that tiny robe?" He mused it was a long shot, but it was worth it to tease her about it as he let her lead him anywhere she wanted to go.

Hayden: "Perfect. I won't watch you play any sad video games." She winked before she was pulling on his hands and walking backwards to the bathroom, one foot behind the other. "And here I thought you thought shower sex was dangerous." Her lips pursed and her eyebrows rose mischievously, a sassy smirk on her face as one hand dropped his to undo the sash holding the robe together before reaching behind her to open the door. The material fell open only slightly, not enough for him to really see what he wanted and as she led him into the bathroom, the dim lighting thanks to the candles probably only made it harder. "You're not the only one who can be cheesy." She mused, dropping his other hand to feel the temperature of the bath water, filled to the brim with bubbles of course. She turned on the faucet once more just to heat it up a bit. "And don't you even try to tease me. You're going to enjoy this."

Alex: He followed her into the bathroom as he laughed a little at her remark. He did think it was, but it would be better if they were safe if they tried. His eyebrow raised up a little as his bathroom was lit up with candles and he could smell the vanilla coming from the bubbles in the bathroom. "A bubble bath? Am I a child?" He lightly teased totally ignoring her last sentence. He could see her robe was undone so it must mean it was meant for them. "You're getting in first right?"

Hayden: "Hey," She playfully whined, pinching the back of his arm lightly. "What did I say about teasing? I will absolutely make you get in there alone if you're not nice. Don't think I won't." She gave him a pointed look, left eyebrow ticked up as far as it could go. "You can put on a playlist if you want." Her head nodded to her phone by the sink. It wasn't their last night in LA but she still wanted to do something special for him while they had the chance alone. She knew that Mary and Preston would be preoccupied with baby Jeremy and from the look of the golfball sized hickey on Natalie's neck, she wasn't leaving her room until she stocked up on concealer so she figured tonight made the most sense. Without another word she was slipping out of her robe, taking a moment to hang it on the back of the now closed door and carefully climbing into the tub, sinking below the water until the bubbles were resting just beneath her collarbone. Her hair was already piled on top of her head in a bun so she wasn't too worried about it getting wet.

Alex: A big grin rested on his face as he laughed and she whined. He walked over to her phone to open it and put on a nice slow playlist of songs. He took off his shirt as he dropped it on the floor and as he walked he was working on his pants. It would be nice and relax with her no matter how cheesy this moment was. They could finally be alone for the day and he slowly got in across from her, thankful his tub was big enough for the both of them.

Hayden: Hayden let out a low whistle as he undressed, not really watching him but also somewhat able to see him out of the corner of her eye. It was kind of funny to her to see someone like Alex, someone who made a point to make fun of all things girly, slipping beneath the vanilla scented bubbles in candle light. "Now tell me you're not already more relaxed." She teased as she shifted so her long legs were draped over his beneath the water.

Alex: He let out a slightly loud laugh as he shrugged his arms and hands resting on either side of the tub. "Ask me again in five minutes." He mused as he slightly leaned his head back. He wasn't worried about his hair getting wet, he could deal after all. One hand moved into the water and bubbles to rest on one of her legs. "You just wanted to get me naked."

Hayden: Her eyes rolled but she couldn't help but smile at him. He looked so good in the dim light, he always did. As he leaned his back, she did the same to let her eyes close to enjoy the moment. "Always wanna get you naked." She hummed, clearly amused while one hand reached beneath the water to hold onto his ankle just so she could be touching him. "So, am I going to be heading back to New York alone?" The sly smile was clear in her voice as she alluded to how much he seemed to love being in California. Part of her was surprised he had even decided to go to school on the East Coast.

Alex: His eyes stayed on her in the dim lighting. It reflected off her and it made him smile a bit. She was gorgeous in the light, almost like moonlight. He let out a small chuckle as his thumb on her leg lightly ran over the wet skin under the water. He just wanted to touch her. He shrugged. "Nah, I'm coming back with you, unless you want me to stay here. If that's the case, wow, I'm offended." He joked as he shook his head a little, smiling. He loved California, but he also did enjoy NYC. One of the reasons why he decided to go to school in there.

Hayden: With her eyes still closed she could feel herself completely relaxing sinking a bit further beneath the water. The was something she didn't get enough of back in New York. There was no way she was taking a bath at the sorority and her apartment tub was so old she was fairly certain it would leak so to finally be soaking was like a dream come true. Clearing her throat softly, her words came out quieter now. "Yeah, flew across the country just to leave you here." A playful smile spread over her lips. "But you've only got one more year, right? Then you'll be back in California?"

Alex: He wasn't one to do this ever with anyone. This was a first for him with her and he was almost sure there was going to be many to come, hopefully between them. He glanced over at her before he was sinking down into the water as well and shrugged even if she couldn't see him. "That's the plan. Buy an apartment here or further more into the city. Depending on what the band wants to do, you know?" He let out softly moving his fingers up and down her shin. "What are your plans?"

Hayden: They made sense, his plans. She wouldn't have expected any sort of different answer from him. Giving his ankle a gentle squeeze, she let out a hum as his fingertips raised goose bumps on her shin even beneath the water. "For sure." She agreed with a slight nod. "You have to be where the music is, right?" Hayden on the other hand would still have more schooling left once he graduated and her future seemed to be a bit more unclear. "Well," She frowned to herself, trying to decipher how to put into words her muddled plans. "I have two more years still, started late. But after that... I don't know. I guess I always thought I'd stay in New York but there's that internship in London- the one I mentioned at dinner?" She wondered if he even remembered which one she was talking about. "Which could open a lot of different doors including finishing my senior year in London." The whole thing made her kind of nervous, traveling halfway across the world to somewhere she'd never been, leaving behind everything she knew. But it was also exciting. Really exciting.

Alex: "To be fair, New York can also offer the same thing LA does, you know that right?" He explained to her, though his plan was aiming back home, he couldn't tell what was going to happen in a year time. He leaned his head back as she talked and shut his eyes. He could probably pass out with the music and the hot water against his skin. "I remember." He let out softly, it has surprised him and he wasn't mad about it. It could be good for her, he knew that. "If it does- you should take it. Be great for you."

Hayden: "Can't offer the Pacific ocean." She reasoned, knowing LA was his home and probably always would be. "Or constant sunshine." There was a voice that sprung up in the back of her mind that she hadn't heard before but she wanted to ignore it. There were still figuring everything out between them and nobody knew what a year could mean- they didn't even know what a week could mean for them. It was far too soon for something like this to settle into her head but, it seemed to be anyway. Without thinking, her hand tightened on his ankle. She was both surprised and relieved that he remembered the internship. "Yeah, it's not guaranteed or anything but, I have to have my application in pretty much the minute we get back to New York. It's for the second semester of this year."

Alex: "Also doesn't offer you." He mused lightly. But was he really joking about it? He didn't know in the back of his mind, but he made it seem like he was. They both weren't assuming anything, just taking everything with a small slow ease. Her hand tightened and he was leaning forward a little while bringing her legs up to press a small kiss to the side of her bubble-filled knee. "This year? Hm, so soon." He let out as his forehead rested on her knee. "I think you'll get it, love."

Hayden: She let out a small, shallow laugh at his comment while trying not to read too much into it because truthfully she was thinking the exact same thing in reverse. The East Coast didn't offer him. "Music seems more important." She reminded him because it did. She wasn't going to delude herself into some fantasy that if they made a real go of being together that he would somehow stay in New York for her when she wasn't even sure she was going to be there herself. That made Hayden's eyes open as she sat up a bit straight in time to see him kiss her knee. The hand not on his ankle reached out to smooth his hair down, the water clinging to her hand slicking it back. "Just a few months away... if I get it." Somehow she sounded less sure now. "Do you?"

Alex: He shrugged a little at her. Sure, music was important to him, so far his life and future now, but he didn't know months from now what would happen. His cheek rested against her knee as her hand went in his hair and he shut his eyes. He hummed a little as her response and it seemed like to him maybe he got shorter with her once she brought it up, he didn't know why and he didn't want to show it. "Yeah, 100 percent love. Be good for your future as a professional, you know?"

Hayden: Her fingers continued to work through his now damp hair, massaging against his scalp while his cheek pressed to her knee. Timing was everything, that was something Hayden always knew and always believed. Somehow the timing between them was starting to feel like maybe it was all wrong and it was starting to make her frown. "Yeah, for my professional future." She mumbled. Hayden could be a photographer literally anywhere. In fact, her ideal career would be to open a gallery selling photos she took and it wouldn't matter what part of the world she lived in to do that. "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?" She didn't want to think about them already being over before they really started anymore.

Alex: He hummed at the feeling of her hand, it soothing him in ways he didn't know he needed until he was right there at the moment. Right person wrong time maybe? Is that what was happening? He didn't want to think about it and he was sure neither did she. He let out a small chuckle when she changed the subject. "Italy." He answered without a beat. "What about you?"

Hayden: As her fingers worked over his scalp, her thumb moved to rub circles over his temple to help him relax further. She figured even if she had a million things going through her mind now, he could at least continue to enjoy himself. After everything they had to get through to finally be in the place they were, it was making her feel kind of sick to think they already had an expiration date. "Italy? Good choice." She hummed with a quiet smile in her tone. "I always say Australia but I'm so afraid of the spiders there... Italy might be an answer, too. Or Greece."

Alex: "That feels good." He mumbled against her knee, his eyes closed at the feeling. His mind was racing, but her hand was making it better even if he had so many thoughts in his head and a small voice in his own head eating away at him. And before anything could happen. Just their luck. "Australia isn't that bad besides the spiders. They aren't even that harmful. Greece is beautiful. So is Rome. I've been to a lot of places over my summers as a kid and teenager."

Alex: He let out a small laugh as he looked at her from his side eye. "Don't whine now." He mused as he picked his up and pulled her legs so she was closer to him, legs wrapping around him he made sure." I can bring you to Universal tomorrow if you want." He offered, his arms wrapping around her, kissing her shoulder lightly. "Family vacations used to be a thing."

Hayden: She chuckled, nose crinkling as he easily pulled her closer so she was seated between his legs and hers were wrapped around his waist. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, squeezing gently and wiping away the bubbles so she had better access to his skin. All she could smell was vanilla now. "Do they have Jurassic Park things there?" She teased, leaning her head to the side as he kissed her shoulder, an instinct now really. "We used to go to Florida every year, my parents and I. And yours used to take you to faraway destinations. Jealous."

Alex: He had to make sure he was settled down under the water to make sure she didn't hurt him, but his hands stayed on her skin under the water. She smelled of vanillas and strawberries now. A good smell to him and one he would remember. "They do, but maybe I'll keep you from that place just to be mean." He laughed a little as he moved his hand up to move her a piece of hair that fell out her bun. "It's not that exciting as you would thing, honestly. I couldn't do much without the parents because no one trusted me. One year we brought my ex with me to Paris and it was so funny because my mom wouldn't let us out of her sight."

Hayden: She was careful not to move too close to him, not wanting to press against anything that she shouldn't be considering they were both naked. "Don't be mean." She chided under her breath while he brushed the hair that had fallen from her up-do. One of Hayden's hands reached out to clasp his chin, her thumb on the right side while the other four fingers rested on the left so she could hold his face still while she pressed her lips to his slowly before pulling away and dropping her hand. She couldn't help the way her eyebrow lifted, or her stomach pulled, at the mention of traveling with his ex to Paris. A dream vacation of hers. "Hm." She hummed, moved both hands to play with the bubbles in the small space between them. "Smart woman, knowing you. Was Paris nice?"

Alex: His hands moved smoothly down her back as her hand grabbed his chin. Many times he's done it to her so he didn't mind as he closed his eyes in the kiss, kissing her quickly again before she pulled away. He probably shouldn't have brought up his ex, but maybe it wasn't a bad idea considering he felt nothing for her, but did she know that? "We had alternatives to have sex, my love. But yeah, I should go soon again. Wanna come with?"

Hayden: There was an urge to keep kissing him, a strong urge, but the topic of conversation was doing its best to make it go away. Regardless of who his ex was or where she was, the idea of them sneaking off in Paris to find places to have sex really didn't sit well. "Well good for you and your alternatives." She let out, keeping her tone as light as possible because she really couldn't be upset about it. "Um," Her tongue moved over the corner of her lip as she focused her attention the bubbles again, scooping them up in her hands and letting them drop. "Maybe, eventually, someday." She mumbled awkwardly.

Alex: He should stop talking about it and he knew it, so he did. Only staying quiet for a long time and putting some of the bubbles on Hayden's face and wiping them off after. "I never loved her, did you know that?" He let out softly. He didn't know if he ever told her that.

Hayden: The bubbles on her face only had her sticking her tongue out, leading to them finding their way into her mouth and her making a face. "In my mouth." She mumbled under her breath and to herself, not really needing a response from him as she wiped her tongue on the back of her hand to get the taste out. His words took her by surprise, the honesty behind them completely heart stopping. Her dark eyes turned to his in the dim light with her hands full of bubbles and her heart in her throat. "You didn't? I didn't know that."

Alex: He let out a small laugh and shrugged. "Would you rather something else in your mouth?" He teased, the sentence all the sexual he knew she would catch on. He lightly shrugged at her as he looked at the bubbles and not her, he wasn't lying. It was the honest truth. He could never lie to her, not right now in LA. She could see through some of his lies and he knew that, so why lie. "Two and a half years and I never loved her. Isn't that shitty? I mean- we said it, but she said it early and it took me a month to say it back and I didn't even mean it. I told her at junior prom on the dance floor because I'm a cheater, but I won't lie to you about it. If it happened, it happened. But- yeah she knows a lot about me only by default. Her mom is friends with Preston so I grew up with her. She knew all my little quirks and hates. And I never felt that way toward her. I don't know if it was me or what."

Hayden: She shot him a pointed look, that wasn't out of the question for later but right now she was far more interested in what he had to say about his ex. Though he wasn't looking at her she was watching every little move he made. The way he blinked, the way his mouth moved as he spoke, she was taking it all in. There was a nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her maybe she couldn't trust him. When, and if, they ever said those three words to each other what if she couldn't believe them? But there was another voice, a jealous voice, that told her there was a girl, probably a beautiful blonde, out there who knew absolutely everything about Alex. Everything she wanted to know, this girl already knew, and that made her feel kind of sick. It didn't help that Preston probably loved her. Her hands sunk beneath the water to press to her own stomach, trying to calm the doubt swirling around. "You can't help the way you feel- or don't feel." She offered quietly, trying to keep her tone light. There was a brief paused as she mulled over her question before hesitantly speaking. "What- what do you mean you're a cheater?" She had heard him tell her stories before but she wanted to hear it again, now that they were trying to be... more.

Alex: His eyes shot up as she started talking again. The nagging voice in the back of his head telling to shut up before he ruined it. Though, another one was telling him he already did. He tried to shut them both off, trying not to let his anxiety ruin the night. But she shouldn't be mad about his ex-knowing more about him than she did. Nate knew so much about her and Alex was trying to know that much, so why be upset about it. It didn't help his own little green monster peaking all by himself. "You're not wrong. I just always felt bad, you know?" He let out softly as he shrugged a little as he opened his mouth a little. Closing it. "You don't wanna talk about that."

Hayden: "I want to talk about it." Was the only thing to let out, not that she was ignoring that he felt bad about not loving his ex but right now at the front of her mind she needed to know if she could trust him. She needed to know if she was going to be spending nights worrying about where he was or who he was with. Her gaze fixed on him in the glowing light and didn't leave for even a second as her hands moved to rest on her own thighs, waiting for a response.

Alex: "I just-" He really didn't want to have this talk but he knew he had to explain stuff. But was it to explain? He's a cheater. He's not loyal. Commitment issues that sometimes pained him to admit he had. His own personal issues that he didn't want to bring her in. "What is there to say? I've cheated on her and I've cheated on Astrid. Two girlfriends, I had and I fucked someone else." He shrugged lightly and he let his own hands drop as he hugged his torso. "But- before you get stuck in that pretty head of yours. I'm willing to work on it."

Hayden: For a while, she thought she hadn't even blinked as she processed what he was saying. It was everything she didn't want to hear, he was right but it was important for her to know. Even if it was physically hurting her heart. After a while, Hayden's teeth bit together to make her jaw clench and eyes tore away from him to focus on one of the flicking candles. He had cheated on every girlfriend he'd ever had. Why would she be any different? Her hands moved beneath the water, gliding along as if the motion would soothe her. "Please don't make a fool out of me." She finally whispered without looking at him. "Please don't let me trust you if I shouldn't."

Alex: She didn't say anything for a while and it didn't worry him. She had to process it and he knew it. He let out a small huff as his hand moved her chin up to look at her. "I'm crazy about you, Hayden." He whispered. He didn't want to make a fool out of himself let alone her. "I'm going to try in this."

Hayden: His hand moving her chin forces her eyes back to him and they are so full of worry she knows they are ten times wider than normal and she wished he didn't seem them like that. She wanted him and what they were in and even more she wanted to fully trust him without having to worry. The latter of all three seemed like it was going to be the hardest of them all. Without a second thought, she was leaning in to press her lips to his firmly before pulling back. "Okay." She said softly. She couldn't judge him for his past mistakes. Who was she to judge or say he needed to change? He had accepted her so she needed to do the same. "But only because I'm crazy about you, too." She half-teased, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

Alex: His thumb ran lightly over her chin as he looked into her worry filled eyes. They only made his stare into her trying to read or mind and knowingly too. She leaned him and he leaned back to kiss her once more, this time moving closer to her almost laying her back to the other side of the tub. "Are you now?" He chuckled a little as he lightly kissed her cheek. "I mean it, Hayden. Crazy about you. I don't know what you did to me."

Hayden: One hand moved around his shoulders as he leaned her back, her legs squeezing around him as there was no space left between them anymore. Hayden could only take his promise of willing to try at face value. She had to believe him if they were going to work and she wanted them to work, more than she would ever tell him. Her free hand trailed along his chest before dipping beneath the water as he kissed her cheek. "I mean it, too." She hummed softly. "The craziest about you, Alex." Her fingertips dragged over his stomach slowly as she tipped her head to reconnected their lips. "Ditto, baby. Ditto." Her teeth tugged gently on his bottom lip just as her hand dipped down between them to give him attention where she could feel he wanted it.

#p; hayden #hayden #( drinking white wine in the blushing light )