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jesseuno · 1 year

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I went to a DDR Tournament (aka: Post-MOTL4 Thoughts)

As the title suggests, I went to a DDR Tournament in Mentor, Ohio this past weekend called Mistake on the Lake 4. Below are my thoughts on the event, focused primarily on my performance at said event:

First off, the reason I’m posting it here instead of something such as twitter, or facebook, or discord or something is because I feel like I can be honest with myself about how I played without feeling a sense of being around (for lack of better term) toxic positivity. It’s not that I don’t think the community means well, and there is a very reasonable chance that I’m putting too much pressure on myself even now, but the last thing I want to hear right now is “you have one leg, it’s okay” or “you weren’t feeling well” or “it’s been a long time” or any kind of justification like that. Those are valid reasons to not play well, but I feel like it takes a lot of the responsibility off of me. The fact is this: I sucked. I performed worse at that tournament than I ever have at any other tournament in my time playing competitively (2004 - 2010, 2018 - 2020.) and there’s some very legitimate reasons why that are just entirely on me. 1. Since the COVID mandates have been relaxed (if not lifted entirely), I haven’t played all that much. I have not put in the time that I should have. I didn’t give the tournament and the competition the respect that it deserved. I even had the audacity to honestly think that I should have been rated higher than I was, and the way I played showed that I belonged exactly in the pool I was in, and probably lower if such a pool existed. I was out-worked, straight up. 2. During the course of COVID, I let myself get significantly out of shape. Despite having options around me to stay active, I chose to ignore them. To stay sane, I probably drank my own actual weight in bourbon and other alcohol to cope with the stress of the situation. That would have been fine (or at least understood) DURING COVID, but when I got vaccinated and things relaxed down, I didn’t change those habits. I didn’t start trying to be more active again and I didn’t do anything to change the negative habits that developed during COVID. I basically let myself blimp up even further and become even more lethargic and lazy. I went from about 170 lbs. before COVID, to 187 lbs. during it, to as of right now, 216.1 lbs. AFTER. Carrying an extra 45 lbs. everywhere you go takes its toll physically. I just can’t do as much or go as hard as I used to be able to.

3. To piggyback off of the last reason, I drank entirely too much leading into the tournament. Literally, the night before, I polished off a bottle of coconut rum with two other people. The night prior to that, beer and bourbon and cokes. The night before? Shots of rum while I was packing. I was basically an internalized microbrewery who was bloated and awful, and had no energy to play when it finally came time to do so. I even felt sick and anxious as I played, and proceeded to vomit my guts out after I finished. It was only after that, well after I was eliminated, that I finally felt good and loose. All of this is to say that I didn’t give this tournament, the competitors in my pool, and for that matter, myself, the respect it, they, and I deserved, and it showed, and I embarrassed myself on stream. I don’t even want to watch the VODs or recorded footage of the matches because I’m so ashamed of myself up there. It fucking sucks. In essence, TL;DR: I let myself down because I let myself get fat, out of shape, unmotivated, and drunk, and I played like shit for it. I’m writing this because at the end of it all, I want to take accountability for that and I never want to feel that embarrassed again. I never want to play that badly again. I never want to be that ill-prepared ever again. And if I have my way, I’m not going to. Consider this my accountability plan. 1. With the USL Soccer Season officially over, I have my Saturdays to myself again. If I have any say in the matter, on top of Tuesdays and Sundays, I am going to spend my Saturdays in the arcade playing and getting back into playing shape. Additionally, I’m going to start going back to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class on my Wednesdays to try and get myself back into decent physical shape. At the minimum, if I can get back down to under 200 lbs., that would be a good starting point. 2. It’s obvious that I have some bad habits that I need to work through. I need to eat better, I need to exercise more, I need to develop healthier mindsets for dealing with negative situations around me. This even includes dealing with playing badly. It’s okay not to be the player that I used to be. I’m not that person right now. Hell, I’m not the person I was two or three years ago, period. Looking back in the past is not going to do me any good. I need to work with who I am now and build from that. 3. This is the hard one to come to grips with, and I hate that I’m writing it. I’m actually kind of scared to even put it in writing, but I don’t think I have much choice anymore. Right now, I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. I have for a long time now. And while I should thank my lucky stars that I haven’t said or done something egregiously stupid yet, I’m afraid that I’m probably teetering that razor’s edge. Even now, I constantly have an anxious feeling in my chest that I’ve said or done something wrong, or inadvertently hurt someone, and I’m going to get myself thrown out of a community that I love, and this was even after asking a friend of mine to effectively be my shadow at said event to make sure something like that explicitly DIDN’T happen. I can’t live like this and something has to change. Another friend of mine has challenged me to go till my birthday weekend (Dec. 9-11) without alcohol. I think that’s a good idea. If nothing else, to reset my body and mind. This part won’t be easy and I’m actually kind of afraid. I hope I don’t fail.

To hold myself accountable to this, I’m including two photos of myself currently. Unaltered, untouched, not hat on, etc. It’s me, as I am at 216 lbs., wearing a t-shirt and soccer jersey that is way too tight on me for my size.

Hopefully the next time I post photos of myself, I will look a little thinner, be in better shape, most definitely be under 200 lbs., and also being a little more sober. Ideally also playing DDR infinitely fucking better than I ever did this weekend. I can’t keep living like this. I have to do something about it now. :\ Thanks for reading.

#DDR #dance dance revolution #anxiety #alcoholism #overweight #weight loss #mistake on the lake 4 #motl4 #I feel like a failure right now #but hopefully that can change too

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dawnowar · 4 months

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I guess it's time to tell the Manowar fudge story again, since it's that time of year and "Manowar" has just announced they're gonna do one show in NYC and people are coming at me like i should want to go to that, so let's start back in 1999 this time.

It's always hard to know where I should start any Manowar story since they can really all go back to even before I liked the band growing up in the same area and hanging out underage in the bar where they played all their hometown shows hearing warnings about Joey and not knowing anything about anything yet.

But this one I will start with the end. Or rather the first end in 1999, when i quit my job working for the band after they'd hired me because my internet fan-site was basically better than anything they had. I'd already done the work organizing the fans. They knew me and i knew them and we all came together to pass along information and tour dates and news. The band recognized they weren't doing it as well and that's how i ended up working for them properly but it didn't last long, without specifics, my idea of what my job should be was different than Joey's so i packed up, went back home and retired completely from Manowar life for five years until one day in 2004 someone messaged me, "Have you seen the fudge?? 😂😂😂" with a link to an article.

Manowar had decided it would be a nice perk for the holidays to offer a big-ass block of fudge with a Manowar logo stamped on it that ships free with any order over $150 from their online store as a Black Friday promotion.

Seems innocent enough till you read the comments which essentially are an endless string of people saying things like "I always knew they were fudge-packers." "Manowar is packing fudge!"

Blabbermouth ran a hilarious totally-straight-faced article titled "Manowar packs fudge, photo available" which was so expertly written that it included the true information that "Manowar are #2 on the German charts, right behind Eminiem."

I just howled with laughter. How is this band so good at being ambiguously gay when they really aren't trying at all??

I went to bed that night laughing about it and I woke up in the morning still laughing about it. The Manowar fans kept sending it to me and it made me laugh every single time. Meanwhile I'm reconnecting with everyone and remembering that I like these people. and I put on the records and remembered I like these songs and I came back out of retirement. Joey was happy to have me back until neither of us were happy anymore.

It didn't last long before all the same old problems resurfaced so i was gone again but for a minute there Manowar was fun and awesome and packing fudge, photo available and i was into it again.

In 2005, I went to a Brain Surgeons show to meet Ross The Boss as my last-ever act of Manowar-fandom. I shook his hand and let him know that i know he's the reason Manowar was great and that anything they do without him is some bullshit. I had every intention of walking away into the sunset forever, but he liked hearing that and wanted to know more about me. I told him my story how I had one of the first Manowar sites on the internet and the band hired me becuase i was doing it better than they were but working for Joey wasn't for me. He found that relatable and jokingly said, "That'd be funny if you started working for me." and so I did.

So here we are 18 years after I started working for Ross, 23 years after I quit working for Manowar the first time. I've seen how they treat Ross over the years. Deleting posts about him on their message boards, re-recording his records with other guitar players, doing everything possible to minimize his contribution to the band and not give him the credit he deserves. When Ross was in Manowar, they put out huge amounts of amazing songs and when Ross wasn't in the band they struggled to put out anything. All they do now is re-record Ross' songs.

So they announce this one US show the other day after years of not playing the USA because they stopped doing US shows because their egos are too big to do all that traveling and playing small venues for small prices to the people who are actually their fans when they sit home and play occassionally for festival money or play Germany where for some reason people seem to actually like their really crappy post-Ross songs.

And they get Michael Angelo Batio in the band like that makes any sense at all and announce one show in Brooklyn and people keep messaging me wanting me to be excited about this show which I'm guessing will cost a billion dollars for tickets to watch this guitar player who is all wrong for it, play Ross' solos in some way that doesn't make sense to me.

They don't seem to understand why I would have no interest in seeing a slow old downtuned scab Manowar. Joey would almost certainly throw me out if he saw me there anyway. Last I knew he did not speak my name. Which im pretty proud of honestly.

Yeah i know i still go by DawnOwaR. That's my identity. I forged it myself over many decades and they can't take it away from me. But this version of Manowar is a cover band. There's better Manowar cover bands out there. Ross' one for example. I'm sure I'm biased. I was always biased. I got my job working for Ross because I was biased, but there is no Manowar without them all together.

RIP Scott Columbus.

So no, i'm not going to see Manowar in NY. No I'm not excited about it. No i don't think anyone should waste their time and money on that.

The fudge story is still funny tho.

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tofufactorynightschool · 11 months

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安居乐业; Getting Settled

I'm finally here!

But freeze frame, and rewind about 24 hours, getting on my first flight, to San Francisco, at 6AM. During the layover, I met about 5 people from the program, who were all super friendly (and who might all be way better than me at Chinese...so probably won't be seeing much of them in class at least). And I realized that my place, with just under a 20 minute walk to campus, was one of the closer options. It's in the Da'an district (hence the name of this post).

Then came the 13, maybe 14 hour flight. Agony. At one point my legs got so stiff I thought something was medically wrong with them.

During the combined flights, I finished four films (as well as quite a few episodes of a sappy J-Drama). Brief reviews are as below:

Funny Girl (1968) - What it says on the tin: Barbra sure is a funny girl! (And what a voice.) I was surprised by the complexity of the second half, and of the ending -- her performance of "My Man" was gorgeous, and am I totally missing the point or stating the obvious to say that I enjoyed how the "man" in the song could be either Mr. Arnstein or the stage?

Hidden Letters (2022) - I started this documentary with my family but we didn't finish. The subject-- 女书, a script created by and for women in Hunan--is fascinating but I wish that the documentary had focused a little more (or at all) on its actual history, or the specifics of the writing system. The ending song was really nice; I'll have to look for it some time.

Kamikaze Girls (2004) - The sleeper hit and the star of the show; it actually rocked. Hyper-stylization done right! The main characters were very femme/butch. A good line: "It's not wrong to feel good; that's what Rococo taught me."

Death Becomes Her (1992) - Following with the campy theme; great makeup, kooky effects. Yes, it's not revolutionizing gender roles; yes, the social commentary is sledgehammer-subtle; and yes, it's pitting women against each other -- but it's so fun! (Said with a mildly facetious tone

The meals were pretty decent: 1) dinner (butter chicken on a bed of rice with a roll and butter, some kind of grain-vinegar salad, and a chocolate pretzel crumb cake from Milk), 2) "light snack" (small turkey sandwich roll), and 3) breakfast (scrambled eggs with potato hash and chicken sausage, a packaged croissant and butter, and fruit). Nothing was gastronomically spectacular, but I wasn't let down, either.

Still, it's hard to conceive of how long being on the plane for 14+ hours is, and how much it sucks; it's been a long time since I was on a flight that long. I was in the same row as someone else in the program, but a middle-aged man was in the seat between us. I slept a bit, but atrociously. At one point I got so bored (even with all the movies available), I pulled up the digital map on the plane screen and just toggled around Taiwan, studying the cities. I even took out some paper and drew Taiwan and the 11 cities it showed. I still remember them, working counter clockwise from the top: Keelung, Taipei, Taoyuan, Hsinchu, Taichung, Nantou, Tainan, Kaohsiung, Taitung, Hualian, & Yilan. Round and around, up and down, side to side I went, pinching at the map.

When we landed, though, I found that someone had sent a video of the apartment to our LINE groupchat--and it looked amazing! The wait to get the keys and everything was a little long, but I met one of my housemates there, Lillian, and we took the taxi over together; she seems super sweet (should I refer to people by name? or is that too revealing? Maybe I'll edit these posts later.) The whole time we talked about how excited we were for the summer. When we arrived, the apartment was just as good as it had looked (also very close to some cute shops, cafes, and a 7/11), and we met another housemate who had been locked out: Fin.

Fin might be one of the coolest girls I've ever met. We first saw her sitting perched on her moped, wearing a white mesh longsleeve under a lime green gingham tank top with a paneled denim skirt, about knee length. She offered us mangos and pudding, and then to play a song for us on her robin's-egg-blue electric guitar, which we eagerly accepted. She strummed and sang Lana Del Rey's "Happiness is a butterfly;" she has a beautiful voice, smooth and light. Lillian and I sang along a little but mainly enjoyed. Then Fin shared some cool Taiwanese indie music that she liked with us; she offered to take us to a concert some time (which I will happily take her up on). Another housemate, Amber, came in; Amber studies, performs, and choreographs contemporary circus (thus also putting her in the running for one of the coolest girls I've ever met). Amber joined in the concert talk and mentioned a free outdoor show happening next week! I hope we can all go. Fin and I talked about Mitski and she played one of her songs on guitar. It was a lovely, shimmering kind of introduction to the whole place.

There are quite a few more housemates but more on the morrow, because I have to get up bright and early for orientation! I'm settled in my room, which is in the 'basement' (very spacious--so far I like it). Already I can tell my Chinese is in a dire state. Hopefully I'm ready; I guess it's (almost) time to find out. More later!

安居乐业 (ān jū lè yè) - to live and work in peace

#travel

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db-reviews · 2 years

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#109 - Fluid Existential Inversions - Intronaut (2020)

So I wanted to review an album, but I had no idea what album to review. So instead of thinking long and hard about it, I figured to have a little fun and do some randomness. I went to RYM recommendations and selected a random number between 1 and 200 and I had to listen to and review the album it chose. With that, this was the album that I ended up having to review, and from the cover alone I was pretty excited to check it out because it gave me some awesome black midi or Ashenspire vibes. However, what I got instead was also equally amazing.

So, a little history about Intronaut. They are a California-based progressive metal band formed in 2004 with the lineup of Sacha Dunable, Leon del Muerte, Danny Walker, and Joe Lester. Throughout their career, they have released several albums with styles ranging from more sludge metal approaches to nearly post-metal acclaims, plus they went on tour with some notable acts such as Animals As Leaders and the great band Mastodon. This album is their 6th studio record after their 2015 release of The Direction of Last Things, released on February 28th, 2020. Before making this review I had never heard of this band, but after listening to this album I cannot deny that like a fisherman and their fish, I got hooked onto their boat with many other fishes, because this album is so freaking good.

For me, this album begins with a really strong prelude, that being Procurement of the Victuals. Now I do not particularly like talking about tracks that are more or less just small and quick openers for the album to begin with, but here I think I should because this one opening movement does bring to light the band’s more cacophony appeal to progressive metal. It doesn’t waste any time getting you into what the band wants you to hear, and what they want you to hear is some intensely immaculate metal. While not my favorite song here, I cannot deny that without this album it may be in an odd place for me.

Likewise, with the prelude, the first real track of Cubensis doesn’t waste any time and gets right into the freeway of some tightly knit metal. This band knows how to stir its flavors in its pot. I am getting stuff that harkens to the more technical side of metal, while also going deep into the more sludge metal approach that bands like Mastodon would set a stage for in the early 2000s. Not only does this song rock, but it is a headbanger, even in the later half where things are a tad more like post-metal and thus quieter. It is an impressive and great force of heavy metal that shouldn’t be underestimated.

However, that was merely an appetizer for the other great songs off this album, especially in retrospect to The Cull. If you really wanna hear that more sludge metal crossover between post-metal then this is the song for you. It gives a textural experience that a lot of post-rock music loves to do, but still retains that toxic waste like sludge in the mix, especially with the vocals. Sacha’s and Dave’s vocals on this album do give that good mix of that soft and clean metal appeal, and that grimey and sloppy appeal, similar to how the instrumentation has that divide of the mellow post-rock and the meaty sludge metal. I am a big fan of this approach because it mixes a ton of flavors so well that I cannot stop listening to it no matter what. There is always something new to expect and I love it.

One of the best things about this album is that it consistently delivers on what I have said before on The Cull. The next track of Contrapasso shows off more of that fun division of soft and hard metal, and not only do they deliver a ton with their music, blending a bit more ambiance with this song a bit more, they still retain that head bangy sound that I cannot help but fawn over. It is just that great.

Now while I would say that this consistency can be somewhat of a downfall for most albums, the band tries to spice things up by employing some more influences. Speaking Of Orbs is a great example of that. Not only do we get that same ol’ awesome sludge metal the band has established, we even get a mix with a more Between The Buried And Me sound, specifically with their softer moments like with Desert of Song or the beginning half of Monochrome. As a BTBAM head, this was a very pleasant surprise to hear from what I’d expect to be another track that takes the same notes as the last four, so the experimentation on here is much appreciated. It is also probably one of the prettiest tracks on here, with the softer vocals and the use of atmospheric guitar melodies rather than riffs and growls. It is the stand-out highlight of this album for me.

Tripolar goes back to the sludge metal aspects that the band posed at the start, but we get a tiny bit of thrash and death metal on here that I think adds some great use of that more experimental side of metal. However that is merely for the first half, the second half continues that atmospheric side of their music that I have been loving ever since the first track. This second half soon loops back around to where the first half ended off, with that more death metal approach. Amazing progression throughout that I cannot help but adore.

If you want some more of their more heavy stuff then Check Your Misfortune is a good one to look into. Unlike most songs here, the more atmospheric moments are just as heavy as the harder moments on this song which I think allows the band to stretch their legs in that heavier side of music that they have an affinity for. How the song keeps up with this headbanger style of music but still progresses towards a clear-cut movement is how I like my progressive metal. A clear-cut forwarded movement that builds up and changes throughout.

I think the grandest song off of here has to be Pangloss. It carries the last few songs of this album in such a way that I cannot help but love it. It goes into the sludge metal the band dabbles with a lot, getting deep and dirty with that style of music on here, almost to the point where they almost dabble in stoner metal. With this track, you still have that progression, but the heavier side of the coin getting a lot dirtier just adds another layer to this immaculate lasagna the band has cooked up for my ears.

Rounding everything off is Sour Everything. I think this track not only is a great closure for this amazing album, but it goes back to what the past songs did and utilizes those same techniques here, experimenting with a wide range of influences from sludge metal, to post-metal, to even the more heroic feeling technical metal they had on Speaking of Orbs. It all builds up into this wide range of sounds that then get cut off by this soothing keyboard melody that is dim compared to the light show that we just experienced on this record. While it ends differently than how the album began, I do see it fits well with the sound the band painted here, thus creating a proper finale to this album that I think is a clear, and focused masterpiece.

When I jumped into this I expected something wild and crazy, but what I got was a mix of beauty, grittiness, and awesomeness rolled into one package. This has become one of my favorite metal records, and it happened by chance. If you haven’t already then do yourself a favor and check this out. Run, don’t walk to it, because not only is it one of the best progressive metal albums that came out this decade, I bet it can stand the test of time and be regarded as an instant classic in the music community. Give it a shot, you won’t regret it.

5/5

#music review #album review #progressive rock #progressive metal

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khelinski · 2 years

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\m/ - Excerpt from the novel.

Our next gig was something all of us were excited for: the grand opening of Hard Rock Park in South Carolina, which resided comfortably along the shore of Myrtle Beach. We had an invitation to help open the theme park with The Moody Blues and The Eagles. It was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up! Plus, Andrew was eager to do the gig; he insisted he had a surprise for us.

Once we got there to the beautiful coastline area near the park, we were greeted by our old friend Sara Williams—Andrew’s surprise, I suspect.

“Dude, I love this fucking bus. Much nicer than that piece of a shit Rock ’Till You Drop offers me when I go on tours,” she said to us with a big smile on her face. Kelly and I instantly gave her a hug. Tim extended his hand to give her a formal handshake, but instead, Sara lifted her arms toward Tim and gave him a hug.

“Dude, we are family.” Tim nodded his head, content with Sara’s sentiment. After the shock of seeing Sara again, both Andrew and Sara explained to us that after the backlash with Chris and Detroit Rock City (not to mention the “Goodbye” fuck-up), Andrew and Sara had kept in touch the whole time. They both swapped CDs, sharing the success of each other’s band. We got to our hotel near the theme park and were settled in our rooms. Hard Rock Park treated us to separate rooms, which was nice since we had to share rooms with most of the gigs we played.

We then spent the rest of the evening chilling with Sara. She showed us around the area, pointing at all the childhood hangout spots of hers. It was almost like everything had come full circle for us.

With the good vibe we all shared, Andrew suggested for Sara to play the encore with us in the Hard Rock Park show. Sara glanced at all of us (we all nodded a FUCK YEAH), then said to Tim:

“Only if you are okay with it?” Tim smiled and said, “Dude, let’s fucking do it!” Our set list stayed the same. It was the encore that got altered. We ended up playing a medley of Led Zeppelin songs (“Dazed and Confused,” “Achilles Last Stand,” and “Rock and Roll,” which is an overplayed song that was a lot more fun to play than to listen to).

Before the gig, we got to walk around the park. There was so much potential with what they had going in the park. It was a shame Hard Rock Park closed down only a couple of years later. We had so much fun exploring. We all especially got a kick out of the Nights in White Satin attraction! Accordingly to Andrew, it was worth experiencing with a good buzz! He had been drinking excessively that day. I had never seen him let loose before. I was a little concerned with the amount of liquor he was ingesting, plus given the fact that his mom lost her life to the bottle, but he reassured all of us that he was having fun.

The show itself was fucking amazing! I wore my faded Van Halen summer 2004 tour shirt and felt like a rock god. It was the audience that gave me the boost, chanting our name over and over. It was the biggest crowd we had ever played for. Once Sara Williams got onstage with us during the encore, the crowd’s noise level overpowered our music.

After the gig (and as the park was closing) the road crew from The Eagles went out of their way to come to see us backstage and honor us with praise for our performance, comparing us to Shinedown. Funny how everyone would compare us to another band, based on our latest album or tour. We thanked them nonetheless. Then I started to chat with Joe Walsh’s guitar tech. Cool ass dude!

Soon after, we all walked outside the theme park, uncertain whether we should call it a night or unwind somewhere. Sara suggested for us to chill on the beach with acoustic guitars. It was such a beautiful sight, too. I could hear the waves making all kinds of love to the water. Everyone was for Sara’s idea except Andrew. He wanted to go to his hotel room and sleep off his buzz. He was also drinking during the gig, which alarmed us all, but he played fine with each beat cue. I asked him if he was okay. He extended his arm in the air and gave me the \m/ sign with his hand. He then walked to the hotel. Looking back, I wish I had followed him that night. Instead, I chilled on the beach with the band and Sara, drinking wine coolers and screwing around on acoustic guitars. We were playing a mixture of Outsider’s Vengeance, Sara’s Riding the Tide material, and cover tunes that came out of our asses.

The soundtrack of the water brushing against the tide gave the moment a Wastin’ Away vibe. That vibe was shared by us all. We were happy, hovering on cloud nine, which was about to take a ninety-degree drop down to reality.

The next day at around noon, we all were packing up Midnight Rider. Exhaustion from the show and the after-party, in which we stayed up until four in the morning (rock ’n’ roll, baby!) was present on all our faces. Well, not all of us. I noticed one of us was missing. Andrew. He was never late. In fact, I don’t ever recall him sleeping in. He wasn’t the type. He was an early riser type. Then again, he drank pretty hard the night before. Maybe he even hooked up with someone.

I decided to walk to his hotel room and see what was up. Sara tagged along (milking all the time she had with us as much as she could). We got up to his hotel room. It was closed with a DO NOT DISTURB sign. I knocked on his door. No response. I knocked harder while saying his name. Still, nothing. Odd.

I went to get an extra keycard from the check-in desk. A hotel room attendant walked with me to Andrew’s room, slid the keycard into the slot above the door handle, and opened the door. We slowly walked into the room and spotted Andrew sprawled out motionless on the bed. I walked toward him and tried to shake him. He was lying on his back, with headphones in his ears, and attached to his MP3 player. I took the headphones out of his ears and noticed how cold he was. I then backed away a few feet. Sara ran toward him and tried to get his attention. Andrew didn’t budge. I eyeballed an empty bottle of Mucus Relief DM on the dresser next to his bed. The bottle’s lid was right next to the bottle.

Unsure how many pills he took. The whole bottle for all I knew. The music from his MP3 player was blasting at full volume. I analyzed it. Andrew had two songs looped, one after another. Black Sabbath’s “Solitude” and “Dreaming” from our forgotten Long Play album. I turned off his MP3 player and noticed the sounds of the beach waves from his hotel window, making the scene surreal. All the while, Sara was kneeling on Andrew’s bed, trying to wake him up, and I was baffled by what was going on. The hotel attendant called for an ambulance.

Paramedics barged through the room with their equipment and a stretcher to examine Andrew, pushing Sara out of the way. She got up and walked toward me, reaching over to hold my hand. I held hers tight. After what seemed like an hour (but was only just a few minutes), the paramedics declared Andrew dead at the scene. It was pretty damn evident the cause, with the empty pill bottle and Andrew’s liquor intake the night before. His death was such a fucking cliché.

I felt angry.

I felt sadness.

I felt...

...I couldn’t take it much longer. I walked out of the room and into the hallway.

By then, the rest of the band came rushing toward me, asking what was up with the holdup.

Holdup.

I almost forgot about the band, the tour, everything. The scene just a few feet away erased all my memories of who I was. Sara ran out of the room soon after I did and toward the bathroom across the hall. Everyone paid attention to Sara and then looked back at me with WTF expressions on their faces. I wished I could talk, say something to them, acknowledge the dramatic turn of events, but I just couldn’t. I just stared at them with a blank stare. I then had the image of Andrew’s drum kit, abandoned on stage at a random gig somewhere. Tears started coming down my face. It didn’t end with just tears. It was a whole breakdown. I fucking lost it, falling to my knees and crying loudly. Tim and Kelly knelt down with me, asking me what was wrong, asking why Sara ran into the bathroom and asking me where Andrew was.

Andrew.

They got their answer as the paramedics rolled Andrew’s covered body on the gurney from his hotel room, down the hallway, and toward the lobby. Tim and Kelly stared at Andrew’s body as he went by. Neither of them said a word. But I think we all shared the same thoughts:

We lost our drummer, our friend, and our brother.

We lost Andrew Carter.

K.H.; March 27, 2013 – August 25, 2014.

#\m/#self written #novel #addiction #dreaming #black clouds & silver linings

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cthulhuliet · 3 years

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Hi hi ~~ big fan of your Lawlight work * chef kiss * So, if it serves to inspire you I got this little idea! NSFW A huge hc of mine is that Light loves L reading for him with that hot British accent of his, like come on, L`s dubbed voice with a brit accent??*agressive chef kiss* SOO imagine Light resting his head on L`s lap while L is reading to him and things get lewd in the novel :D maybe things coul get lewd in reality too 👀👀 oh, and another hc of mine is that Light rides D like a pro so ... maybe something with both? if you'd like 👉👈 No pressure at all tho!

Thank you so much for your kind words :') I am a fan of your Lawlight work as well, and even though it took a two weeks or so (my bad) I really hope you enjoy! (it also, as always, turned out to be a lot longer than I meant it).

close your eyes and imagine it

3.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, general kink, you know the drill

Most of the dreams were incomprehensible nonsense, and L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents. “Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one. Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit.

The one where Light discovers a dream journal he had written during the Kira investigation and can't help but be embarrassed by L's role in his fantasies. L, of course, does not mind. -

“A dream journal?” L questioned. He closed his laptop and Light smirked, raising an eyebrow, holding the notebook in his hands. L crossed the room and took the journal from Light, “Where did you find this?”

Light shrugged, “On my bookshelf with a lot of my other textbooks and such.”

“How old is this?”

“Was in my late teens, I suspect.”

L flipped through the book idly, Light’s neat handwriting was pleasant and clean compared to L’s own scrawled and messy penmanship. The pages slightly stuck together, as the old notebook seemed to have not been touched in years. L stopped at a page and briefly read the contents and looked at the date, before his own eyes widened.

“Hang on, this is during-”

“The Kira investigation? Yeah.” Light’s slight smirk turned into a large cheshire. “I figured you might be interested in reading what I wrote.”

L bit his bottom lip, looking up at Light, one eyebrow raised, “Does the Death Note still give you nightmares to this day?”

Shrugging, Light came up to L and looked over his shoulder at the notebook, “I mean, sometimes? But I also believe that having nightmares is just a part of being a person.”

“Or you have become so numb to your own murderous tendencies the nightmares do not affect you that much anymore.” L muttered, just loud enough for Light to hear.

He did hear him, of course, and he retaliated by shoving L hard enough for him to fall backwards onto their bed. Light socked L on the arm when he flopped down onto his back as well as L went to read Light’s journal to himself.

“Leave me alone, Light, can’t you see I am busy?” L teased, which earned him another hit on his arm, “You are being bothersome.”

Light crossed his arms, now sitting next to L laying down on the bed, “Those are my dreams, you are not reading without me, obviously.”

“Well then lie down so I can read them to you.” Light was the most frustrating man that L had ever been with. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

L sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Light assumed his usual position and rested his head on L’s lap. L idly put his hands through Light soft brown locks, twirling his soft hair through his fingers.

This was not an unusual position to find the pair in. Light often requests that L read to him, the other man finding the restrained but smooth baritone of L’s voice to be incredibly attractive, but also incredibly calming to listen to. It is not the first time his voice has been complimented, and it certainly will not be the last. Sayu has told L multiple times that he should become a voice over actor. He politely declined. The rest of the people do not matter, really. The only praise he needs is when Light humbly hands him a book he reads before bed, and falls asleep to L’s voice quicker than any amount reading on his own.

“‘ April 1st, 2004: I was present for class at To-Oh university, however we were all forced to give a presentation about when we believe all of our classmates will die and why. This was a horribly dark and drab lecture hall, and I had forgotten my cue cards about why Sakurano Mari was going to die due to dementia .’ This is not exactly a fun read.”

“It was not exactly fun to think about either.”

“I am going to find a different one.”

L used one hand to run his fingers through Light’s hair and the other to flip through the journal, skimming through the contents. Most of the recounts were incomprehensible nonsense, though there is no judgement to be had there. Whenever L does sleep, most of his dreams are disconnected fragments of stories -- feelings and emotions rather than a complete narrative.

L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents.

“Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one.”

“Are you?”

“Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit:

“‘ Damn that Ryuzaki. He is plaguing my thoughts not only during the day, but I cannot even escape the damn bastard in my dreams’, I love you too, dearest ,” L sardonically snided. Light pinched his thigh , “ ‘Last night's events were particularly egregious, as this is not the first time something like this has happened, but I feel mortified even writing this down. Though, maybe if I recount what happened (like with the nightmares) these dreams will go down in their numbers.

“‘Ryuzaki and myself were in the library studying next to one another. I was eating a biscotti with tea. As it was in my mouth, Ryuzaki came up and bit off the end of my biscotti and just chuckled at me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but I just know I felt really hot an -’”

“L…” Light gripped his thigh dangerously, “What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question, but Light said it as a command. He ignored him. Light was never the one to give out commands anyway.

“‘ I cannot remember much but the next moment Ryuzaki’s lips were on my neck. Everything was fuzzy, but I could feel him biting marks into me and was teasing me by grinding against my di- ’”

Light growled, “I’m taking this away from you. Now.” He moved to sit up, but L’s hand was still in his hair. L gripped his roots harshly and shoved him back down. Light whined at the action, swallowing hard.

“You are not going anywhere.” That was a command, and Light took it as such.

“This is mortifying…” Light muttered against the mattress, his speech breathy.

L hummed and pulled Light’s hair up, forcing him to look at him, “I disagree.” He lied. “You are going to be good and listen to me read this whole thing.”

Light laughed, cocky, though his eyes were glassy with flushed cheeks, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

“Or how about I get to come and you don’t, hmm?” Light opened his mouth and closed it again, face flushed with shame. L let go of his hair and Light buried his head in L’s lap. L smirked and chuckled, “You are so adorable, all blushy and embarrassed…” Light whined at that, running his fingernail down the inside of L’s thigh.

“‘ This is not the first time this has happened, though I have to admit, it was the best incident. Even hazy, I had never felt that sensitive and stimulated. I just wanted to stay like that forever.’” L had one hand on the book, the other held a distracted, but firm, grip in Light’s hair, who was presently biting his lip and running soft strokes over L’s cock. “‘It was even better when I got to put my mouth on Ryuzaki. I have never sucked a dick before, so my brain could only supply what it imagines it feels like, but it was not even that that made it so good. Ryuzaki would hold my hair tight and look down at me while I was on my knees. He kept telling me that I was a slut, but that I was doing such a good job for him. Even before this I thought Ryuzaki had such a nice voice, I wish I could hear him more…’ You think my voice is nice, huh?” L asked, keeping his voice level, as Light’s feather touches became firm palming.

He groaned again, “Tch, shut up.”

“No.” L pulled him by his hair, forcing Light to look him in the eye, “I think it is time you shut up.” In only a few seconds, L manhandled Light and dropped him to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. L sat at the end, grabbing the journal with one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. “How many times have you sucked dick since writing this? Hundreds?” Light finished the job of removing L’s pants and underwear, his cock standing erect in front of him, “C’mon cock-slut, show me what you got.”

Light eagerly took L in his mouth, expertly utilizing his tongue on his head. L closed his eyes and tried to not become overwhelmed by the sensation. He opened his eyes to see Light’s cocky doe-eyes staring back up at him.

“What was it that you dreamed of? My hand tight in your hair, fucking your mouth, telling you you’re being a good slut, right?” L asked, rhetorically as he returned his hand to harshly grip Light’s locks. He slowly moved Light’s head up and down, spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Light’s face was blood red with humiliation and lust, it was perfect.

L bit his lip as Light took him all the way down his throat, refusing to be the one to break first. He picked up the journal again, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the work in front of him. “‘ Ryuzaki kept calling me good boy, telling me I was taking him so well, and never had anyone ever made him feel as good as I was. I felt so overwhelmed. I had never felt such extreme desire for anyone, but I think at that moment I would do anything for him.’ Do you still want to hear all that? Still want me to call you a good boy, and tell you you are taking me so well?”

Light groaned around L’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sent a shiver up his spine and L suppressed a needy whine on his end. After years of doing this, Light knows exactly how to push him to the very edge-- to give him so much and yet not enough.

“‘ My memory gets a little fuzzy here, but Ryuzaki laid down on the desk, and he grabbed me by the thighs so hard I think I would have had bruises in reality. I grabbed him by the throat and rode him on the desk. A part of me was worried, because the conference room in the library was all glass, but also my head was so hazy and it felt so good.’” L pressed a thumb against his lips, “Had Light fucked himself on toys at this point?”

He pulled off of L, slowly stroking him as he thought about it, “I think at that time I had. I only realized I was not straight shortly after high school, and my sexual drive moved pretty fast after that.”

“‘Shortly after high school’, shortly after meeting me, right?” L smirked. Light opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but just narrowed his eyes.

“Such an egomaniac you are,” Light scoffed, “Not everything is about you.”

“No, not everything. But this is.” L reached under their bed and pulled out a box of toys and lube. He casually tossed the bottle and a large blue dildo in front of Light, “Stretch yourself open with that. I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Like you have earned that privilege yet.” L leaned forward (careful to not fall off the edge) and grabbed Light by the chin, forcing him to look L in the eye, “You’re going to open yourself up on that cock, and when your slutty hole is ready for me, you can ride me like in your fantasies.”

He could almost see the blood rushing to Light’s ears-- being literally talked down to-- condescended and scolded like a child. And yet, his pupils were blown all the way out, L barely seeing the amber color of Light’s eyes, and his jeans and underwear were, of course, already halfway to his ankles.

Light took the tip of the toy and fucked his mouth in and out with it, eyes never leaving L’s. He was already 3 fingers deep inside of himself, lewdly moaning around the cock very intentionally.

“This is a good look for you,” L remarked, breathily, slowly stroking his own cock.

Light suctioned the dick to the hardwood, and hovered over it, teasing his hole with the tip, “Well, if you are going to keep calling me a slut- fuck… I might as well lean into it.” Light bottomed out on the toy, one hand running through his hair, another sucking on two fingers as he slowly moved. Light, flushed and fucked out and using himself, was the pinnacle of sex and desire-- L began to question his decision about who exactly this was a punishment for.

“Ngh, this cock is so big , L… But it doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.” Light dragged his teeth across the bottom of his lip, pointed looking at L’s cock, now leaking precum. Light knew he was getting to L. He knew exactly how he looked and exactly what L was thinking.

Fucker. Two can play at that.

L slowed down his own movements, raising an eyebrow at Light, “A common whore like yourself would be satisfied with any cock inside of him. You want mine so bad? Close your eyes, think…” L held the book open with one hand, “‘ I feel like I am going crazy. I am supposed to want this stupid bastard dead. And yet all I want right now are my hands on him and his on mine-’” Light groaned, finally touching his neglected aching cock, “‘-and it is so hard to focus on bringing him down, when the entire time I am dreaming about Ryuzaki’s voice in my ear, and my hands around his throat, and his tongue and mouth on me everywhere . I may just have to take care of him so I stop feeling this way... ’ My my, Kira... ” Light groaned at the name, “I thought you would be a bit more careful than to let your inner thoughts so out in the open like this. What would have happened if someone had gotten a hold of this?”

“I- Fuck- Academic rivalries are not uncommon....”

“I wanted to sentence you to death and you still could not stop thinking about me inside of you-”

“Oh shit L…”

“-or my hands on your cock or my fingers stretching you wide open. You still want me to whisper in your ear and moan , telling you what a good boy you are, right?”

“Yes… yes I want that L…”

L tutted, “And yet you aren’t a good boy. Desperate and begging… Writing down naughty thoughts and fantasies about someone who you wanted to die?” L shook his head, casually tossing the book aside. He reached for his own cock again, slowly stroking it watching Light fall apart, giving himself dual sensations, “Kira needs to make up his mind about what he wants. Because I don’t think he is good at all.”

“ L please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me on your cock.”

“Why would I allow that?”

Light stopped his movements on the dildo, only slowly stroking his cock at the same speed as L was his own, “I am not a good boy, I am a cock-slut for you, and only ever you. Fuck me please,” Light begged, broken and desperate.

L stood up and grabbed Light’s hands, pulling him off of the toy. He brushed the hair out of Light’s eyes and pulled Light on top of him, “So good, Kira. You don’t have to be a good boy for me, you can just be my good slut.”

He kissed L, hard, biting his bottom lip as he lined himself up on L’s dick and sunk down on him.

“ Fuck, you feel so much better than that cheap plastic,” Light straddled L properly, pressing his hands against L’s chest as he rode him, not wasting anytime picking up speed.

“Such a good whore for me, Kira,” L said, kissing his wrist, “You really do ride cock like you get paid to do it.”

“I know,” Light said, breathy and fucked.

L huffed, “A bit cocky, aren-”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up,” Light said, pressing down on L’s pressure points, his fingertips pushing hard enough into his throat it will surely leave marks against his pale skin.

L’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and Light moved his hips faster, L snapping back up to meet his thrusts, which quickly became sloppy as black dots began dancing in the corners of his eyes and his lungs started burning. His eyes welled up with tears and his entire body was on fire, his limbs going limp. He felt the white, hot edge so close and tangible. Every thrust felt like a rattle of electricity hitting every nerve and every part of his consciousness so closely and he just needed more -- Light relented, moving his hands away from his throat. L eyes snapped open wide and he coughed, taking heavy breaths. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and he dug his fingertips into Light’s waist, harshly grabbing him by the hips.

“L? I’m sorry, you told me you would tap out if-”

“Kira, more-- again-- now.” L commanded, and Light did not hesitate. He grabbed him by the throat and put his fingers in L’s mouth for good measure. Light was riding him with expert pace and precision, his lower body strength and years of running paying off. L’s legs trembled, and he used the last bit of his unfucked mind to dig his nails into Light’s hips and rock him faster and faster on his cock, reaching that beautiful and terrible and intense edge.

“ Ah- L! ” Light comes only a few seconds before L himself, moaning around Light’s fingers as he loosened his grip, but still only letting a fraction of the air healthy for the human brain into his head.

Light did not move himself off of L immediately. He moved his hand away from his throat, but kept small pressure on his neck with one of his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” L muttered. Light said nothing. L opened his eyes, tapping him. “Light?”

Light blinked, looking back, “Sorry, was feeling your pulse.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

L smiled softly, “Don’t want me dead anymore?”

“Sometimes. Certainly not like this, it’s too personal.”

“What, killing me while my cock is in your ass is too close for comfort?”

“Something like.” Light smirked and pressed a soft kiss against L’s lips.

After cleaning up, Light told L he wanted to burn the dream journal to prevent further embarrassment.

“Over my dead body.” L said, holding the notebook just out of reach.

Light smirked, “I have no problem arranging that.”

#my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #death note #prompt fills #asks #bored-bitch-stuff #more writing to come!#also I apologize that this is so long and it took so long to write ;-;#but either way!!#enjoy!!

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felassan · 3 years

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

This is the Mass Effect version of this post.

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

Note: Drug use is mentioned.

Cut for length.

Mass Effect 1

ME began its life in a vision document in fall 2003

Codenamed “SFX”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tali used to be called Talsi

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

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

Early versions of Asari had hair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bono from U2 was kinda instrumental in bringing us ME lol

Finding the right cover art for ME1 was notably tricky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BioWare Labs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mass Effect 2

Player choices carrying over was a first for BW

Dirty Dozen-inspired plot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BioWare Montreal made ME2 and 3 cinematics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mass Effect 3

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

ME3 “marked the end of Shep’s story”

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

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

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

MP chars were voiced by cops and military people

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mass Effect: Andromeda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kett and angara concepts explored striking lines and textures

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

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formulinos · 3 years

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Hyperfixation Corner: A Special | Donkey Does Hyperfixation Corner

who said coping mechanisms were only for tumblr users? tonight, on hyperfixation corner, we're gonna look back on how a single inflatable kept a whole team from going insane over losing their jobs. this is the story of jaguar racing's last semester in formula 1 and donkeydoesf1.co.uk.

✷ context:

before jaguar racing, there was stewart grand prix, the love child of sir jackie stewart and his son paul and established in the 80s as a junior formulae team. stewart took the plunge to formula 1 in 1996, formally debuting in 1997 with the support of ford, who at that point were more than familiar with the business. you see, ford and cosworth were the long-term couple who spent 10-plus years together and you kinda admired them for being able to be together that long and that seriously committed without having the need of putting formal labels on it even though they even had kids.

in this case, the kids were the ford-cosworth family of engines that dated back from 1966 and were responsible for 13 drivers' championships. that way, ford and cosworth were development partners, but such as the couples who ruin the good thing they have going on by getting married, ford decided to put a ring on it in 1998 and buy cosworth's race engine division, as part of their "increased commitment to f1". this also meant that, in order to show the world how much they were committed to it, they went one step further and purchased stewart grand prix, which they planned to properly turn into a prestigious team and a flagship of one of their most valuable brands, jaguar.

the idea was fancy and exciting to all formula fans: they were going to bring one of the most classy, luxurious and well-renowned British car brands to formula 1, making it well known how British and fancy they were by using a very traditional British Racing Green livery, while using a third-party engine and not actually using the title manufacturer's staff, just its name and fanfare... i hope time is no longer a flat circle honestly.

anyway, jaguar flopped hard, never managing to go as further as seventh in the championship standings as much as the people in it made efforts to do better. i mean, these guys had niki lauda as their team principal for a whole season in 2002 and still didn't manage to get much done (in fact, niki spent most of the time fighting people there tbh). ford obviously didn't like how little cost/benefit there was in this as it was incredibly expensive to keep a f1 team that wasn't even promoting ford directly, and after reducing their investments and firing a lot of team staff over the space of 2 years, they formally asked for divorce in 2004, selling jaguar racing at the end of the year. a bit more on that later.

✷ donkey does f1:

while ford spent most of the 2004 plotting to get rid of their wife, the people who actually worked in jaguar were doing the best they could to keep the team running with less and less money and more and more threats of shutting down completely. team morale was clearly very low since as much as they tried, results didn't come and their last podium had been two seasons prior. these people could do with some light-hearted fun, you know? enter donkey.

donkey was an inflatable gifted to those who were lucky enough to get the right ribena bottle - important to note i'm not british and therefore have never seen a ribena in my life - , as part of a promotional action for shrek 2. it wasn't the ultimate prize, as it seems that a real donkey was one people were going for (in reality the donkey stayed in a sanctuary and you'd get to visit it lol). however, it was more than enough for the girlies at jaguar.

i think it's kinda shrekacular tbh

anyway, logically someone down in milton keynes had the habit of drinking more ribena than it should be allowed to - according to my researches, literally any ribena. that shit sounds disgusting - and while they didn't get the real donkey, they got one of the inflatables. according to tim malyon, now head of research of the fia, the donkey got nicked by one of the mechanics who took it with him to spa-francorchamps and had a little garage photoshoot, you know, banter. just to lighten the mood.

while everyone had fun, the big wigs in jaguar's PR thought that this wasn't compatible with the Haute Luxury British Standards of Serious Branding (the earliest mention of this seems to be from October 2004 in The Sun, but I wasn't able to find it. They do cite it on Folha's article from later that year as well I referenced earlier so it's fair to say the mechanics got told off) and banned poor donkey from the subsequent races. however, the guys didn't care and took him to monza anyway, where donkey was involved in even more photoshoots:

the vibes were off, however, on september 17th, less than a week after the italian gp, when ford formally announced that they were going to sell jaguar and cosworth. understandably, people were livid at the situation since ford had spent 4 years bottling everything they could and the conception was in fact that they already knew they would do it but delayed giving team employees a heads up so that they could look for jobs ahead of time. so, donkey became truly a symbol of resistance and a sort of protest from the 300 people in jaguar that could be unemployed by november of that year if no one intervened. not only donkey was going to spend the rest of the season with them, he would be in the world wide web for everyone to see, and thus donkeydoesf1.co.uk went viral. (it seems the website had been created before the selling announcement, but it only gained traction after it).

as the next races went on, donkey started socialising with the rest of the paddock, hanging out everywhere from ferrari to williams - as mark webber would later state, he had been practically in every chassis on the grid. there was even some drama involving a picture of donkey getting eiffel towered by two jordan mechanics that later got pulled from the website. however, since the internet is pretty cool someone uploaded it to webarchive hahaaaa.

note: unfortunately, not all pictures got saved on the webarchive and got lost forever, sort of, but you can see the thumbnails and have an idea of what donkey was up to (he even got to go to the great wall!).

donkey's last appearance was in interlagos, where the jaguar team bid farewell to him as they had greater plans: donkey, who had gained notoriety due to his internet celebrity and sex scandals, would be auctioned on the benefit of Children in Need, a charity headed by the bbc (the british television channel one!!!!). to make him even more valuable, jaguar staff went around asking for drivers to sign it with a 100 % success rate (while michael didn't sign it, it seems the reason was because they didn't ask him to - couldn't find out why :/ it's ok though because even bernie got in on the joke).

in fact, it seems the drivers were so fond of it they were ok with mark bringing donkey along for the end of season class photo session, resulting in a funny moment when michael schumacher was late:

✷ wrap-up:

my internet skills end here as i wasn't able to find much on who got to keep the signed donkey. all i know is that someone who claimed they got it (codename Harv) decided to sell it again in december 2005 on the autosport forum. it would be actually appreciated if there were news from this guy as alongside donkey there was a cd with all the pictures taken that were lost with time. if you're out there, current cd owner, let us know and upload those pics! as mark webber said, donkey's relevance went beyond just a gimmick:

"he's been with us since spa but he's part of the team and of the factory (...) we're trying to deal with it with a smile on our faces and we gotta go out with the best result possible"

cosworth racing was sold to gerald forsythe and kevin kalkhoven, who had also recently adquired CART and turned it into the champ car series. cosworth's last venture as a supplier for formula 1 was in 2013, far away from its glory days. and jaguar? well, they became a little known team called red bull racing. bit cheap for such a High End British Brand if you ask me.

this is it for another quick done special! hope you guys had fun as always, today was particularly rough but this one helped me calm down. please stay safe, covid is still alive and well and i want you guys to be even better. stay tf home and take care! as always, screw you guys, i'm going home! <3

#hyperfixation corner #f1 #jaguar racing #shrek #sincerely i don't tag these anymore because i don't even know where to start

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ssa-babygirl · 4 years

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Out of My League [Part 2]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.5k (ohohohoho i went OVERBOARD with the dialogue here I am sorry for all the useless exposition)

Summary: Most things have changed in the last 10 years, but it’s safe to say that a few things stayed exactly the same. Mixed POV

Warning(s): Mentions of past bullying, mentions of cheating, mentions of kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, cursing, VERY VERY BRIEF MENTION of a miscarriage and leukemia like it’s one sentence and that’s all

Author’s Note: The moment yall have been waiting for! They grow up so fast!! I’m going on a quick trip this week and then heading back to school a few days later, so the next part may take a little longer, but I’m super excited to write it!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Las Vegas, Nevada, 2004

(Spencer’s POV)

My first case out on the field was not a pleasant one. Well, it rarely is, that’s what happens when you work for the FBI to catch serial killers. For the first couple of weeks at the BAU, I helped them consult on cases, but they weren’t sure I was ready to go out on the field with them. After I got my weapon certification, Gideon told me he wanted me to come along on the next case because I was familiar with the area. There had been a series of child abductions near Vegas, my hometown. I would have been much more nervous about traveling had I not been able to see my mom while I was there. I hadn’t visited her in a while and the guilt was gnawing at me.

The first day was brutal. Hotch made some of us go back to the hotel late at night, but it was hard for us to sleep. JJ hated working cases about children, so she went to have a quick drink at the hotel bar, where she promptly forgot her purse and had to call me from her room to go get it for her. I had no hope of getting any rest that night, so I figured I’d take a walk down the hall and try to clear my head.

There was no sign of the purse at first glance, no small black clutch on the bar like JJ said. But there was a woman cleaning glasses behind the counter, maybe she knew where the purse was.

As I approached the bar, the woman’s features took a familiar shape and triggered a distant memory. Seeing her face again was like coming home after a long drive without a map, squinting through the dark and hoping the headlights would get brighter when finally, you’re pulling onto a road that you know by heart.

I didn’t need to look at her nametag, I already knew who she was, but judging by her polite smile borne solely out of the courtesy required to work in the service industry, she didn’t recognize me. In her defense, I had grown about a foot and a half since the last time she saw me. And I got a freaking haircut.

“Y-Y/N?”

She looked up from her rags and scrunched up her face in confusion.

“Okay, so you definitely know me, and I am so sorry about this, but I can’t quite place it. You look so familiar, though, I just… I meet a lot of people with this job, I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

I grinned, she still had that same habit of apologizing every five seconds, “I don’t really have that problem, eidetic memory and all.”

Her eyes widened, “Spencer? Spencer Reid!”

I laughed and nodded.

“You’re so tall now! What has it been, like, 10 years? Oh my goodness, come here.” She awkwardly leaned over the bar and hugged me. She still used the same shampoo.

“How ya been, kid?”

“I’m good! H-How are you?”

“Doing fine, thanks. What brings you back to good ol’ Sin City?”

“I’m here for work.”

“Oh, and what are you doing now?” She leaned on the counter and gazed up with curious eyes, “Helping the doctors at Area 51?”

Good to know she still had jokes, “No actually, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“Woah, you’re a fed now?”

“Yeah, we’re investigating a series of--”

“Kidnappings. Yeah. Scary shit. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You close to catching the guy?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Any of the kids turn up?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We found one boy this morning. He… didn’t make it.”

Her face dropped to a look of worry I hadn’t seen since she took off my blindfold that day on the football field, “Name. I need a name,” her voice grew hoarse.

“I can’t really disclose that information.”

“Spencer, please. Every day my kid comes home from school and asks me if I was watching the news.”

I couldn’t deny the way my heart sank at the news, but I could sure as hell ignore it, “Y-You have kids?”

“One. Little Jamie. His best friend, Robbie, is missing.” Robbie Carter, age five, he’s been missing for the past two weeks. He’s likely dead, but we still haven’t found him.

“Every time someone misses school he gets scared they got taken too. Baby Boy doesn’t understand flu season yet.”

“How old is he?” I had to get her mind off of this. I don’t want to worry her.

“Five. Just started kindergarten. Wanna see a picture?” Seems like I succeeded.

“Sure.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up a picture of Jamie on his first day of school, backpack far too big for his body. Y/N was posed next to him, the picture too small to show that she was crying ever so slightly.

“Adorable, right?”

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face, “Cute kid. Looks just like you.”

She looked back at the photo and smiled softly, “Except the eyes. He’s got his dad’s eyes.”

I glanced down at her hand holding the phone and was greeted with a pleasant surprise, “I’m guessing Jamie’s dad isn’t in the picture?”

Offense flickered across her features for a second, her eyebrows twitching and lips pursing, “How’d you know?”

“No ring.”

“You do work for the FBI.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“You know, you’re supposed to be the one spilling your sorrows to the bartender, not the other way around.”

“You don’t have to tell me, just thought we could catch up, I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

She sighed, returning her phone to the front pocket in her apron, “Remember Kyle Brothers?”

“Oh, do I? Yeah, of course, I remember your high school boyfriend, Y/N. What tipped you off, the eidetic memory, or the fact he used to beat me up after gym class?” It was more like the intense rage and jealousy I had when they got back together after football season ended.

“God, see, I always knew he was an asshole, but it never seemed to faze me, I’m so sorry about that.”

“You did what you could. And you apologize too much.”

“Sor--”

She froze mid-word and made a face as she realized once again that she was about to apologize yet again. I stifled a chuckle, but she laughed and grabbed a rag from the counter to finish cleaning the glasses.

“So Kyle?”

“Yes, Kyle. We broke up again before college, I was going out of state and didn’t wanna do long distance, you know all that. I was in a really bad place during my senior year of college, so after graduation, I decided to move back home for a bit, spend some time with my mom--”

“How is she?”

“She’s great! Moved to D.C. with my dad a while back.”

“I should visit her, Quantico isn’t far.”

She returned a genuine smile, “She would love that.”

“Sorry I interrupted you, keep going.”

“You’re fine. Long story short, moving back home for a few months turned into having a one night stand with my ex. Which turned into us getting engaged nine months later while I’m exhausted and holding my son.”

“Well, that’s a fun birth story for Jamie.”

“Yeah, ‘Happy Birthday, sweetie, your father proposed to me while you were, like, an hour old and then cheated on me six months later.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” She popped the p, “Came home and heard two things: Jamie fussing in his sleep from the playpen and bedsprings squeaking in our room.”

“I’m guessing that you guys were done for good after that?”

“Nice detective work.”

“Technically, I’m a profiler, not a detective, as they typically work in local police departments and I work for the federal government, not a precinct--”

“Jesus, kid, you’re gonna put the poor lil lady to sleep,” I turned around and saw Morgan crossing the lobby to the bar, still in his work clothes.

“If I'm yawning it’s from my double shift, not his rambling. It’s been a while since I heard a good Spencer Reid knowledge dump.”

“You two know each other?” He leaned on the bar and I could sense him turning on the classic Derek Morgan charm.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Uh, Y/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan, we work together, Morgan, this is Y/N L/N, we went to high school together.” The “I had a huge crush on her” was silent.

“Nice to meet you, doll,” he reached out a hand to shake yours. His eyes lingered on you for a bit too long, and I recognized the look in her eyes from the way she talked to Kyle in the halls before our study sessions, and I didn’t like any of that one bit.

Derek turned back to me, “JJ sent you down here a while ago, she’s looking for you.”

I glanced at Y/N and tried to hide the cocktail of emotions in my mind, “I guess I just lost track of time.”

He probably caught onto something because his regular teasing smirk flashed on across his face, “You guess, sure, loverboy, I’ll be in our room. Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He left and she waved, watching him as he left.

“JJ?” She asked, turning back to me.

“Coworker of mine, she left her purse down here and sent me to get it for her.”

“Oh, Blondie from earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“She seemed nice. So pretty!” She reached below the bar and pulled out the small black purse that was left behind about an hour before, holding it up to me and cocking an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

“How long have you two been working together? Long enough to be more than coworkers?”

I laughed uncomfortably, “Uh, n-no, actually this is actually my first case on the field, before this I only really helped the team consult on cases, but this one was urgent and I wanted to visit my mom so they brought me along.”

“Well, send Diana my love.”

“Of course. And if you hear anything from Jamie about another missing kid, give us a call.” I reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it to her and leaving with a sympathetic smile, wishing I could say more.

(Reader POV)

About a week after you ran into Spencer, you were closely following the story as it unfolded on the news. Another kid had gone missing, the second in two weeks. His name was Drew Olson, he was a year older than Jamie. They didn’t find a body yet, so there was still hope. Robbie hadn’t turned up either, which was the best news you had about him. No other bodies have shown up yet, and the cause of death for the boy they found was starvation, so the guy probably didn’t want to hurt these kids.

Regardless of whether or not the situation was actually dangerous, the school still increased security, since two of the victims were students. The pickup line was heavily monitored by teachers and faculty to make sure all students went home with their parents. You had gotten there a bit later than usual, forcing you to the back of the crowd where you couldn’t see the kids as they came out of the building.

When you finally got up towards the front, there were only a handful of kids left.

And Jamie wasn’t one of them.

Panic started to twist your stomach into knots, but the rational part of your brain clawed at the inside of your skull saying he was just inside, he was waiting in a classroom, he was safe.

You pushed through to the teacher that was keeping track of names on her clipboard. She was younger, just about your age, and wore wire-framed glasses that complimented her dark braids. She gave a warm smile and asked for your child’s name.

“Brothers, Jamie Brothers.”

“Alrighty, let’s see--” she paused as her finger stopped over a name highlighted by a bright green, indicating that the child had been picked up: Jamie Brothers.

“He’s not here.”

“What? What do you mean he’s not here?” The part of your brain that said he was safe fucked right off and left you a shaking mess on the pavement. The teacher reached an arm out and held you by the elbow as your knees buckled beneath you. Other parents’ attention was suddenly directed towards you.

“Ma’am, the sheet says he was picked up already.”

“But by who? Not me! So who the hell took my son?” All eyes were on you as you didn’t even bother to control the volume of your voice.

“Mrs. Brothers, please remain calm, I’m sure there’s been a mistake, I can send someone in to find him inside the school.”

“Please…” You whimpered, unable to find your breath.

...Give us a call…

Spencer’s words echoed in your mind and you knew what you had to do, so you scrambled through your bag for the card you were given the week before. You frantically cursed under your breath as you searched for your wallet. You finally found it, taking it out with your phone so you could call the number on the card. It rang once, twice, three times before an unfamiliar voice crackled through on the other side.

“Agent Hotchner.”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“...Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Y/N L/N, Spencer Reid gave me this number if I knew anything.”

“Do you have information regarding the recent abductions?”

“My son’s been taken.” You could feel the lump in your throat nearly restricting any words from coming out.

“Hold on, ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m at the school, he’s not here. I came to get him and he’s not here, I don’t know what to do!”

“Miss L/N, stay put, we’re on our way.” The call ended with a click and suddenly the world went quiet. There was nothing but the rush of blood pounding in your ears. All you could do was stare blankly at nothing in particular as the phone fell from your hand, hitting the pavement, your knees following quickly behind. You felt the bruises on impact, but you couldn’t care less about how much pain you were in, not when you felt this numb. Your pain didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was that Jamie was missing and you were powerless to help. The remaining parents surrounded you, all clutching the shoulders of their children, their safe children, the ones they didn’t have to call the fucking FBI to pick up from school today.

When your brain was able to process information again, you noticed the school parking lot had filled with police cars, including two large black SUVs. You squinted through the inappropriately bright sunlight and the bitter tears in your eyes to see a tall man in a dark suit approach you. Behind him, a scrawny young man in a plaid buttondown was following closely.

You recognized him right away this time.

“Spencer,” your voice was barely a whisper as you attempted to stand on your shaking legs. You looked straight past the man in the suit and scrambled over to him. Before you could even reach him, his arms were stretched out to you, enveloping you in a tight hug as soon as you were close enough.

Your heart had to be beating out of your chest, and you were sure he felt it against him. The tears running down your cheeks stained his shirt, soaking him to the skin as he cradled your head against his chest, trying to do whatever he could to make you feel safe again, no matter how scared he was.

The man in the suit was now joined by an older man in a brown jacket and the man you met at the bar the other night, Derek, you think his name was. The suit turned to you and Spencer and introduced himself as Agent Hotchner, the man you spoke to on the phone. He asked you to describe what happened when you arrived, if you saw anyone who looked out of place, if you saw evidence of a struggle. Spencer’s arms never left your frame the whole time you spoke.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/N, I promise we’ll find your son, we have time on our side. Reid, stay with her in the meantime, Morgan, go question the parents, Gideon and I will talk to the monitors and see if they knew who picked Jamie was picked up by.”

“Yes, sir.”

All the men left to complete their tasks except for Spencer, who was supposed to stay put with you. The second you were alone with him once again, your face returned to the spot on his dampened shirt where it had previously been. One of his hands was planted firmly on your upper back, the other stroking your hair between his fingers.

It’s strange, really. Last time you saw him he was just a kid. A brilliant, sweet, small kid. The kid who’s hair you’d fuck with. The kid you held after his bullies hurt him. Then you don’t see him for over a decade and suddenly the roles are reversed. He was tall enough to rest his chin on your head now, which you had mixed feelings about, but you couldn’t deny it calmed you down. Almost as much as his quick yet steady heartbeat drumming right in your ear. The kid was still skinny, but his hugs were still warm.

“You’re alright, we’re gonna find him,” he whispered into your hair, but you had a feeling those words weren’t only for you. After a few minutes, the three other agents returned to where you and Spencer stood, alerting the two of you that the team would be heading back to the police station where you were welcome to wait with them. Derek figured you were too shaken to drive yourself, so he offered to let you ride along with him and Spencer in the SUV, which you did not hesitate to accept.

Once at the station, you were greeted by the blonde from the bar. What was her name again?

“Jennifer Jareau, I’m the press liaison for the team. You can call me JJ.”

She sat with you while Spencer worked with the others on the case. You wanted to be updated whenever progress was made, but she told you that wasn’t totally possible. Regardless of how against the rules it was, she still gave you the profile. The unsub likely worked with children and knew them and faculty well enough to enter the building and take the kids without being noticed. They may be a parent going through a loss, as no evidence of sexual assault or any physical violence was found on the only body save for light ligature marks on the wrists. Due to the relatively nonviolent nature of the crime, the unsub could be a woman. They likely live alone since they are keeping several young boys in their home. Although this likely wasn’t the work of a pedophile, a trafficking ring could not be ruled out yet.

You suddenly understood why the victims’ families aren’t supposed to know the profile. You thought it would make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. JJ opened up another box of tissues for you, got you water, and offered you snacks, but there was no way you could get anything down. Every sound, every person that passed the window, every buzz of JJ’s phone sent your stomach plummeting down a death drop. You had just calmed yourself down from yet another panic attack when you saw agents strapping on kevlar vests and putting their guns into their holsters.

They knew where the kids were.

(Spencer’s POV)

I wasn’t allowed to see her before we left. I couldn’t tell her where I was going, I couldn’t tell her that Jamie would be okay, I couldn’t tell her anything. I barely spoke to her since we got back to the station, and that was hours ago. Now I-- we just have to leave her there again.

This was my first time going out on the field in this capacity. I’d never had to step out of that SUV with my gun out, ready to shoot anyone who threatened the lives of my team or any hostages they may have. I’d never had to strap on a kevlar vest and worry about the potential bruises that may be left behind by being hit with bullets. I’d never had to worry about not coming back before.

“Don’t be worried. If your hands shake you won’t get a clear shot,” Gideon reminded me in the car, as if I’d be able to get a clear shot with a steady hand anyway.

The unsub was a woman named Harriet Yanonovich. According to hospital records pulled by Garcia, our new tech analyst, her son had recently passed after a short and sudden battle against leukemia. This came shortly after Harriet had a miscarriage that triggered a chemical imbalance, degrading her mental health, which resulted in the trigger, losing her job at the elementary school that the boys had each been taken from. I would have felt bad for her if she hadn’t taken my friend’s son away from her.

But she did, and now I just have to hope she didn’t hurt him.

We arrived at Harriet’s house fairly quickly. Hotch sent Morgan and me around the back, he and Gideon would take the front. As we rounded the back of the house, we discovered that she had a storm cellar under her deck. The doors were closed with a heavy padlock. Morgan aimed his gun to shoot it off the chain.

“Don’t do that. The bullet would ricochet and hit you in the knee.”

He lowered his weapon, “You got a better idea, pretty boy?”

“Yes, actually.” I quietly crept onto the deck, lifting the welcome mat from in front of the sliding glass door into the absolute wreck of a kitchen. Under the mat was a simple looking key.

“She’s a school teacher going through a depressive episode, not a criminal mastermind.”

“Alright then, genius,” he rolled his eyes, “Let’s see if it even works.”

I inserted the key into the lock, hearing a click and turning it with little difficulty. The shackle popped open. I gently removed it from the chains, trying my hardest not to make any noise that would alarm anyone in the cellar. Unwrapping the chains from the handles, I turned back to face Morgan.

“I accept your apology.” I attempted to muster my smuggest smile, but it was hard to mask the dread and worry on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, open up.”

He grabbed one handle and I grabbed the other, sliding the metal doors open and revealing a staircase into a shadowy basement.

“You first.” Morgan nudged my shoulder.

“What? No way! Morgan, this is serious!”

“So go! It’s your girl’s kid!”

He was right. Not about Y/N being my girl, because she wasn’t (though the thought did briefly replace the anxiety in my heart with pure light that I hadn’t felt since I was twelve), but I was still doing this for her. This case wasn’t just a job for me. This was for Y/N. For Jamie. Y/N deserves to see her son again, I owe her that much.

Derek would learn about my fear of the dark much later, but from how fast I jumped down those stairs into that cellar, he’d never been able to tell.

Against the farthest wall, there were four young boys all curled up in a corner. From the limited light, I could see they were all covered in varying levels of filth, the cleanest boy baring the face I had seen on Y/N’s phone screen. The boys all looked terrified, the two dirtiest looking thin and weak against the ties that bound them to a water pipe. I called up to Morgan to come down and lowered my gun.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI, I’m here to help you guys, okay?” The boys all nodded. Morgan helped me untie their wrists.

“Do you know where Mrs. Yanonovich went?”

“She said she was going upstairs, and that we have to be good or else we wouldn’t get any supper,” Jamie piped up.

“How long you been down here, kid?” Morgan asked.

Jamie shrugged, “Couple hours.”

“Did she hurt any of you?” The kids all shook their heads no.

Hotch’s voice crackled over the radio, “We have her in custody, any sign of the kids?”

“Yep, we found them in the cellar. All are alive, but we may need a medic on standby at the station for some of them.”

“Are they hurt?”

“No, just malnourished. Definitely dehydrated.”

Morgan and I led the kids out to the surface, the setting sun creating a glare off of the tin cellar doors. We were greeted by Gideon and police rounding the corner to the backyard. The kids ran out the gate towards the police cars, eager to be home soon.

(Reader POV)

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” JJ hung up and turned back to you, a relieved smile gracing her face. You stood up, desperate to hear the news she had.

“They found the kids, Jamie’s safe.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from lunging at the woman you barely knew, wrapping her in a bear hug as delighted laughs left your lungs. You felt tears of pure relief drip down your cheeks as she squeezed you back, also letting out a deep sigh.

You waited impatiently in the bullpen, anxious to see Jamie unharmed and to give the team your gratitude. When they finally arrived, you saw your son walking hand-in-hand with Spencer and the older agent you believed was named Gideon. Spencer pointed over to you with his free hand and smiled, causing Jamie to drop their hands and sprint into your arms crying “Mommy! Mommy!” You immediately lifted him up and covered his face with kisses. The two of you held onto one another so tight, you were surprised either of you could breathe. Spencer came over to you, smiling with eyes you couldn’t quite recognize.

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need, Y/N. I’m glad I could help. I just wish I could have met Jamie here on better terms!”

You adjusted your hold on Jaime to free one hand, stretching it out for Spencer to take it in his own. You squeezed it gently, smiling into those hazel eyes that had somehow never looked warmer before, despite the deep shadows under them.

“Thank you.”

His pursed lips twitched slightly and you noticed the tears brimming his sunken eyes. The poor boy needed sleep and a lot of it soon. He squeezed your hand back, sending shockwaves up your arms straight to your heart, which hadn’t felt this light since you were seventeen years old.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper

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dclsbaby · 3 years

Text

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby

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o-neillwith2ls · 3 years

Text

I've waited for this!

Original/Fanfiction: Fanfiction

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

Rating: PG/13

Warning/ Triggers: none

FYI: The dates coinside with the airing of the eposides, some are a couple of days off but its obvious which one htey are meant to be.

14 July 2000

Carter,

I don't want this to be some soppy letter. I'm not good at expressing what it is I feel inside. I didn't even know until it was almost too late, until I saw you on the other side of that forcefield.

But you already know. I saw it in your eyes, and I wonder how long you've known.

You're smart. You've probably known a long time.

I can't even finish writing it out of fear this will be found, and my selfish feelings will rip you from me.

I promised myself that I won't be the reason your life gets ruined.

So, I'll wait.

28 July 2000

I could have lost you, Sam.

No sooner had we admitted to even a little more than our respective roles, you were mourning the death of the man and symbiote the Tok'ra who once shared your body loved for over 100 years.

I have no way of…. No, I have no right to comfort you.

I could have lost you, Sam.

Why does it feel like I already did?

4 Aug 2000

Sam,

I have something I have to admit and I'm not sure you'll like it.

I mean you did. Like it that is, but I have to bear in mind that it was consequences-free and you knew it.

For a blissful twenty seconds we were consequence-free.

You were surprised, but you soon relaxed; you were in my arms, and we were just two people together.

I'm sorry if my admission embarrasses or makes life awkward for you.

Believe me, it was the last of my intentions. I would never want to make you feel that way.

But I was curious and truly a free agent, and when Daniel pointed out I could do whatever I wanted free of consequence, my first thought was of you.

I think I'm in deep, Carter.

1 September 2000

Thera,

I'm addressing this to you as the man that can. Before too much of the man who can't admit it occupies my mind.

During the last few weeks, I have never been as happy, as complete, then I am with you. You make me happy, not my lack of memories.

I would never be a complete or real person without you.

It meant the world to me that we found each other and shared ourselves with each other.

I am yours whatever my name is.

Jonah.

15 September 2000

I remember a certain Blond Captain once asking me if I died would I regret anything.

Oxygen deprived really gets you evaluating as well as frostbite.

Turns out my biggest regret now would be in not telling you how I feel.

I still can't, so I hope you know I want to show you through my actions.

You came for me, Sam.

I live, because of you.

26 Jan 2001

Withdrawal is hard.

But it took everything in me not to overpower you and just get it over with.

I think there would be some kind of relief to the act, but I don't care for the feeling of regret after. Knowing what I would have done to you.

I might crave you for the rest of my life.

But this is stronger.

I'll be stronger for you, Sam.

29 June 2001

I lost Teal’c.

I can almost see you rolling your eyes at me, trying to comfort me, and tell me it’s not down to me.

But it is.

And I'm scared.

I'm scared next time it might be just as easily you.

I am a liability to your life.

In more ways than one.

Find someone, Sam, who can love you, protect you, and keep you safe. Can do all the things I want to.

Because I can't be trusted to be with you.

10 July 2001

Okay, I didn't expect you to move on that quick.

Or has it been slow?

Have you been trying to get over whatever it is we had? Of course, you're not as emotionally invested in this as me.

You have options.

Everyone who meets you loves you.

And this alien guy, Orlin, sees you for all the beautiful and wonderful things you are, and he got share it with you.

I want to be happy that you're loved.

I wish – no I didn't wish it were me.

I feel so selfish. I didn't believe you at first and you had to let go of something you wanted. You were caught… between saving the world or your own butt, of course you chose the former.

You… you'd give this world your heart on a platter.

And you had to do it alone.

I'm sorry, Sam.

7 September 2001

I lost you. Again.

All my fears rolled into one.

And it wasn't out there in the big wide void of space.

They took you here! From outside your gym!

I remember when I heard that gunshot which killed Charlie.

And then the memory of that dread spread through my body that day… that same dread overtook me.

We found you in the nick of time.

I don't know what I would do if they took you away from me now.

Because I love you.

2 March 2002

I won't lie. Today was a good day.

It wasn't because I got to tease the cadets into believing I'm a terrifying Colonel, although that was pretty spectacular.

It was a good day, because you stood by my side, you were with me and, to them, we might as well have been equals in rank in their eyes. And, Sam, that was a great feeling.

I love making you smile and laugh. I love we have lots of in jokes which scared the pants off those kids. I love--all of it.

I wish I could tell you.

15 March 2002

I love it when you're all happy and smiling.

But, Samantha Carter, there is something which turns me on so much and that’s when you're rightly indignant and you march on and prove them wrong!

Not only do I love it, but it saved Teal’c's life today.

Never stop being you.

17 May 2002

You want me to talk. To acknowledge my pain somehow.

I wish I could. If only for you, Sam.

I don’t think I can't verbalise the way I feel for you, not even those three simple words ‘I love you’ covers it.

Daniel brought me back from a precipice. One, I was sure had no route of escape. Yet he talked me from the edge. Even when he lived on Abydos for a year, he was the reason I didn't jump.

He was so full of hope and faith, and those kids I lied for.

They deserved to live.

Just like my Charlie.

So, I protected them as best as I could.

I protected Daniel, as best as I could.

And I still failed him. Failed them.

For all I love you, everything I love, dies.

I can't lose you, Sam.

So, I'm letting you go first.

19 July 2002

"I know I said I was letting you go. But I can't. The Tok'ra which they gave me looked inside of me and saw what I would do to protect you, and I ended up being tortured without the Tok'ra the wimp, who ran at first sight of trouble. Clearly, he didn't learn enough.

I'd do it all again to save you.

23 August 2002

I hate that the ship was taken from under our noses.

I love that you willingly sacrifice yourself to save the planet. I love that you don't think of yourself, that you would carry out exactly what is needed of you. I love you for holding out with no weapons, no way out until I got to you.

For all I love all this about you.

Please don't do it again.

Don't sacrifice yourself for this world.

Nothing in this world is worth that much.

24 Jan 2003

Thank you for believing in me so much.

I never quite say it, but I'm glad you're my second. I don't think anyone would willingly put their lives in my hands like you do.

It speaks volumes of the kind of trust we have. You knew without evidence, even though you've seen what I'm capable of.

Just thanks.

7 February 2003

It's like it's an annual thing! They try to take you from me. Your head on my shoulders, my heart in my throat. I could do nothing to save you.

The thought of losing you now to some psychopathic lunatic of a snake--

Losing Daniel was hard. Almost losing Teal’c was painful.

Losing you would be unbearable.

14 March 2003

A lot has gone on lately.

Daniel has helped ascend Abydos.

It's a painful reminder of where we all started, how this all started. It’s hard knowing I won't see Skaara again. I won't see him grow or raise a family. I won't see any of those kids again, and yet, they aren't dead and gone.

They've ascended, and if they're anything like Daniel, they'll show them how it should be done. It'll be good to have good people up there.

And yet in all of that, I think Skaara was trying to set us up! It's a sad case of affairs when I can't hide how I feel for you from a kid inviting me to his wedding!

But you didn't seem disgusted, you just seemed distant from the idea of us being romantically linked, jumping to "friends". I suppose it's not so terrible being your friend, it has led me to the conclusion that you no longer care for me the way you once did.

That's okay.

I want you to live your life. You're amazing inside and out, any man would be lucky. It's a shame, that's all. I wanted it to be me.

16 Jan 2004

I know it's been a while since I've written anything.

I thought I had started to get over you. Turns out the minute you go missing, I go crazy!

And T told me when Colonel Maybourne and I were stranded off world, you despaired at the thought of never seeing me again.

And I hoped -- I hoped you still wanted me, like I wanted you, but when we found you--I don't think you did.

I have to give up now, but if you ever find these letters, know that I will always be there for you. I will always care for you, if you need me, I'll always be by your side.

30 January 2004

It's bittersweet when you finally took my advice and found someone away from all this.

I always hoped it would have been me, but as long as you're happy -- I'll be happy for you, because you deserve the best in life -- and that's definitely not me.

I hope this guy is that guy.

I hope he gives you all you deserve.

6 February 2004

It scares me when I lose you. I've said it so many times in these letters, but it doesn't make it any less true. So, when you went missing at the Alpha site, even dad didn't believe you could still be alive.

I'm surprised. I thought he knew you better, if anyone can keep going to the last millisecond it's you, Carter.

Can I tell you something? When we found you all bruised and broken, you asked me to sit with you. I sat beside you and gathered you for a hug. It was to reassure myself. that you were alive, and real. Selfishly, I knew it was one of the only places your boyfriend wouldn't find us. Because I wanted you to myself, just to be sure you were safe.

20 February 2004

I should be telling you to talk to your boyfriend about this.

Not the specifics, but the situation.

That your best friend is dead. and your boss almost died too. I should be saying to you he can help; he'll understand how rough it is on you.

But I couldn't deny you. Never could.

When you stood in front of me crying telling me you were glad I was okay.

It felt like so much was not said, and we didn't confirm or deny anything, and maybe this physical barrier of a having a boyfriend was enough to let me comfort you as a friend.

Just a little bit, just a hug a little, and why I lied to myself when I spent the night with you as a friend when I really wanted more but that’s not what I told myself.

That it’s nothing but professional concern.

You have a boyfriend after all.

18 March 2004

I have so much to tell you. So much I want to say.

When you ‘dropped by’, I knew.

And I stopped you. Because that line has been drawn and neither of us would cross it.

I worried you were saying it because my life would end soon and you felt as though you should admit it, after all there would be no consequences.

But I know that sort of love.

Admitting with no consequences only makes you regret having not said it sooner.

I want to die, knowing I haven't caused any sort of regrets for you.

If I go now, promise me you’ll love him with all of you.

That you will be happy.

And there are no regrets.

Comdo.

20 August 2004

Sam, I think this will be my last letter.

You asked me, as if … as if I could change your answer.

Don't you understand?

I don't want to change anything about you.

I want you to be happy. It's my only desire, my one wish for you to be.

The world could go down in flames, but as long as you were happy and safe then it would be okay.

It felt like you were looking for validation of your emotions, of your thoughts and feelings, like you had to be sure I didn't love you and I do but I can’t tell you!

But telling you to drop your relationship, to change your mind and pick me… is selfish and self-indulgent.

To believe I could be worth it for you and let you wait for something that might never happen!

I can't do that to you, Sam, because I love you.

I've already lost you! You’ve moved on without me. And there’s no way back.

But for you, I'd endure it all.

Because you're worth it.

08 March 2005

It feels like I cheated on you.

You're not mine to love, I know it.

I'm with a beautiful, free to love woman and I feel like I cheated on you.

I shouldn't even be thinking it, never mind writing it.

15 March 2005

You're lying asleep beside me, in my bed, completely naked.

It's three in the morning and I can't sleep.

I should want to sleep, but I don't want to.

And I don't want to miss a single second!

Eventually I'll succumb to a quiet slumber, and, in the morning, you'll wake, we'll repeat last night then we'll sleep.

Together.

You picked me.

And I got to tell you. I can finally say those three little words.

I love you!

So, for now, I'm savouring it.

Remembering each little detail and storing it in my heart.

Because I've waited for this, and it was worth the wait.

-------

"Hey Sam, I'm just popping out to the store because we're all out coke and beer--" He called out as he walked into the bedroom, and when he did stop suddenly to see her sitting in the middle of their bed surrounded by those pieces of paper he had recorded those letters on, and the shoe box that had been their home for years.

He looked at her and saw she was crying. For a moment, he was shocked. Too surprise to move. His voice and thoughts fought to be in sync.

Her voice was thick with suppressed emotions and she stammered in shock. "I'm sorry. I was looking for my tennis shoes when I found this under the bed. I only opened it to check if we hadn't missed throwing this out at our last move. But then I saw the letters--"

"Were all addressed to you." Jack said swallowing as he carefully sat on the bed trying not to crumple them. "So, I guess it's only fitting--"

"They're love letters!" She cried. "It's our love story. All of it, the messy, the tender, everything it's here."

Jack looked at her for a moment before he asked, "Is that okay?"

She nodded before she reached over the letters that were strewn over the bed, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him.

"I've never had a love letter before." She told him.

"Never?" He asked surprised.

Sam shook her head. "This -- this is so romantic!" She sputtered. "I love you, Jack." She eventually whispered before she pulled away. "You waited."

He looked at her and wiped away her tears. "Yeah." He said softly.

"Am I still worth it? The wait?" She asked him.

Jack smiled and was amazed again at her humility. "I don't regret a single second."

#fictober21 #fictober2021 #stargate sg1 #stargate sg-1 #samantha carter sg1 #jack o'neill #jack o neill #samantha carter #sam x jack

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purekesseltrash · 3 years

Text

My Fic List

Whelp, decided I should do one of these. I have mostly written for Hockey RPF and BNHA, as you have likely already seen!

My BNHA Fics

Bury Them Deep

- “Shouji Mezou's entire life has revolved around being a goalie and playing hockey since he was five years old. After being drafted in the third round in the NHL, Shouji has two more years of college before moving on to playing professional hockey like he's always wanted. Or at least like he always thought he wanted. An injury that ends his season throws him into a tailspin, forcing him to take a look at his life and how he is going to live it, especially after meeting his fascinating new goth history tutor.”

(This bad bitch is 81k total and is chock full of my red hot hockey takes and midwestern references. I love it very much and it is a sweet baby.)

The Rooftop Necromancy series AKA my black metal band AU:

Downhill from Here

- “ Hizashi just wants to tour the country with his best friends with their metal band in their shitty van like they've been planning for years. He'd successfully hidden his crush on one of them for years, after all, he would definitely be able to make this work and keep things fun and uncomplicated. Until Aizawa decided to start acting weird. “

(In which I take you all on a nostalgic trip to 2006-2008 metal culture and you can see the black metal love song that my dumb ass wrote.)

The Perfect Mistake

- “ It wasn't as though Hizashi had planned on breaking up with his boyfriend while they were on tour in a tiny cargo van with no room and no peace. He would have much rather preferred to do it when they were home and he could easily go and crawl back into his mom's basement. But he didn't have a choice. “

(As relationships tend to do, theirs goes through problems.)

Rooftop Necromancy

-"He’d even ended up leaning into the crowd when someone’s elbow had connected solidly with his nose and thrown him back. They’d gone quiet as Hizashi got himself up to his feet, ripped off his now bloody ‘Within Temptations’ tshirt from 2004, whipped his hair back from his face and screamed, “That’s what I’m FUCKING talking about.” into the mic.

They went wild for it, cheering as blood ran down his nose, past his mouth and dripped onto the stage, leaving him feeling like an otherworldly monster performing an occult ritual. Metal, he thought dazedly to himself, why in the fuck had he ever stopped doing metal."

(I hyperfocused so hard at the idea of Mic as a metal head that I wrote this in seven straight hours and WROTE THROUGH THE ATTEMPTED COUP ON DEMOCRACY WITHOUT KNOWING IT. It’s a bit rough, but it’s got some good parts and it spawned the whole damn series.)

Hands Up

- "But of course he had, they had always been able to read each other and what they meant. That had often been their problem, if he was going to be honest."

(In which they figure their shit out. Basically it was written when I was thinking alot about how my own mental health had evolved through the years. It’s basically the story of two people who are both very good for each other and also very bad and how they deal with that. It’s probably the most personally meaningful thing I’ve ever written.)

The other BNHA fics:

Waking Up With Ghosts

-"Hizashi opened his eyes to a world that belonged to ghosts. His headphones were gone and the gray, grimy world that he felt more than saw was muffled and still. This was bad, he hazily thought."

In which we follow Hizashi shortly after the events of 296. How he's found, how he finds out and how he has to tell.”

(I fished this one out of the garbage of my Google Docs because I’d written most of it and forgotten about it. I dragged it out, prettied it up a little and threw it up on AO3. It is by far my most well read BNHA fic, go figure.)

Leave Her Johnny

-”Captain Hizashi Yamada has combed the Seven Seas looking for the elusive smuggler Eraserhead. He has spent years searching for him, tracking his movements and trying to anticipate where he would be next. But he had never considered what would happen when he finally found him. “

(I wrote a paragraph of this and was immediately like ‘I MUST CREATE THIS’. I take some chances writing wise in this as the whole thing is done in a Victorian Era ish style of writing. But I think it’s effective and the ending is likely one of the best that I’ve ever managed. I’m proud of it.)

Gold Rush

-”"That earned him a laugh and Mashirao’s smile made something in his chest ache, something that made him want to hurt. Why had he ever left?

“I’m really not,” Mashirao was saying but Shinsou just shook his head and kissed him once, twice and wished he could take the sunny afternoon and make it stay forever. Make it stay forever like Mashirao somehow had, while the neighborhood had adjusted without Hitoshi’s permission.

“You are,” he said, “And I love it.”

I love you, he should have said. But as Mashirao’s eyes softened and the blonde pushed him back against the bed, Hitoshi knew he didn’t need to say it."

(You know how sometimes you listen to a Death Cab for Cutie song about gentrification over and over until a fic comes out? Because that’s basically what happened here.)

Black Sun

‘"But then he remembered the way that Shouji had eaten the night after, one hand curled into his hair as he hung back in the corner. Shouji hid when something was wrong, like a wounded cat trying to find a dark place to either live or die and he was being released tomorrow. Now was the time to push or he’d find Shouji right back on his bed, staring at nothing."

Something happened to Shouji on the beach. Tokoyami is sure of it.‘

(Aaaaaand Death Cab for Cutie strikes again. But heyo, my first published ShouToko and it is SOFTTTTT)

In the Far and Mighty West

Mic came closer and despite himself, Shouta could not find it in him to feel afraid. “You won’t understand, not really. I’ll try, though. I’m like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan or a jackalope or that fish that your friend caught that he swears he brought in but that you’ve never seen proof of. I’m the herd of dogies moving sweet and steady in the right direction, I’m no stragglers to worry about, I’m that perfect dog that’s there to keep them in line. I’m that group of good friends that you would kill for, I’m the woman who you’re dying to come home to, I’m that promised home of milk and honey. I’m Mic.”

Shouta stared at him dazedly and licked his lips, feeling drunk and stupid as he stared at the man. “You’re… magic?”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

(Cowboy!Erasermic. Inspired heavily by American Gods and my own love of folk heroes.)

In Your Violence

- “'Mezou frowned, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to say that you’re scared that I’ll be killed by having faith in you?”

“It would be in your best interest to stay away from me,” Fumikage finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet. “I am destined to be a monster.”

'Mezou gets the call he fears, the one that says that Fumikage has lost control again. But this time it's different, in more ways than one.”

(I listened to Silence by Marshmello until I went insane in this is the result. Featuring some of my super depressing headcanons about Shouji! But it’s not awful.)

My hockey fics that I still like:

Hufflepuff Halfwit

- ““Zhenya, the wind is coming from the west, I will not remind you again. You shut that window before the house stinks of factories!” She snapped and Geno stared at the owl as though maybe it would know what to do. But instead, it had given a little hoot and wiggled inside, only to drop it’s letter on the counter.

He turned his head very slowly back to look at his mother, who had suddenly gone very quiet. “It… just showed up, Mama. And um. It brought a letter.” He waited again, looked back at the owl who had begun to nose at the pirozhkis in interest and then looked back at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he had ever attempted. “Can I keep it?”

(This is a part of my hockey/Harry Potter au that still legitimately haunts my dreams. It’s basically a Sid/Geno in Hogwarts but I really love the world building I got to do with Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of wizardry. Don’t read ‘On the Word of a Slytherin’ though, I’m not as proud of that one.)

The Prince

- “What the fuck.” Matt breathed out, sitting back heavily onto his hotel bed as he stared at his phone.

‘This is Henrik.’ The text read. ‘I would like to meet you. I will book a room in Pittsburgh at your convenience. Let me know what time will work for you.’ -

(Listen, it’s Henrik Lundqvist/Matt Murray smut, I feel like that is novel and interesting and worth your attention. I wax poetic on goalies in this, as you do.)

The Zoo of Toronto

- “No one missed it when a massive porcupine had shuffled in between the reporters with a single minded focus, pushing media away until it was able to grip onto Phil’s suit pants and try to pull itself up. He hadn’t been able to do more then besides pick the animal up before it could shred his pants to shreds and walk out of the locker room before the decision had been made with the Toronto media.

Phil Kessel was guilty.”

(Not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite of the hockey fics I’ve written. And it’s Phil/Carl, which is never found anymore but it was a good pairing.)

#my writing

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archivingspn · 3 years

Text

2019: Twitter- Eric Kripke

therealKripke: “In honor of #SPN300, here's my original #SPN pitch from 2004. The pilot story is very different, but the tone always rang clear to me. Could never have imagined what this show became and the good it's done. Humbled and grateful beyond words to you all. #SPNFamily @cw_spn ‘[images of spn pilot’s 4pg script]’“ - 12:08 PM Feb 7, 2019

[source]

Supernatural

Pitch by Eric Kripke August 30, 2004

I. TONE AND WORLD

In one sentence, this is X-FILES meets ROUTE 66. Two brothers, cruising the dusty back roads in their trusty 64 Mustang, battling the things that go bump in the night. But much more than that, it's a show about an obsession of mine...

Throughout the U.S., (especially the MIDDLE, where I'm from), we have a folklore, as uniquely American as baseball, as rich and varied as any world mythology, and almost nobody knows it. For instance, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil, at an abandoned Mississippi crossroads, to be the world's greatest guitarist. But he died violently, poisoned at age 26, screaming about Hellhounds as he choked on his own blood. In the shadowy north woods of Minnesota, lives a creature named the Wendigo. Translated from Native American, it means "evil that devours.” It feeds on human flesh. And even today, dozens of witnesses say it's very real.

There are literally HUNDREDS of these stories and legends and urban legends. There are dark and dangerous things out there in the corners of our country. So here's a show that travels the diverse highways and byways of supernatural America. Black woods, ghost towns, those tourist trap mystery spots. Really, a show ABOUT our country-the bloody, beating heart of America.

Unlike X-FILES, this show isn't Vancouver rainy. It's brighter, more colorful, more VISCERAL, and more irreverent. The humor here is extremely important to me—but it has to arise from the characters and their attitudes. The characters can be funny, but the weekly stories have to be SCARY AS SHIT– I'm talking THE RING; how what you don't see is much more terrifying than what you do. I'm talking about making this series as scary as I possibly can, until you guys call and yell at me.

But I also want the tone to be GROUNDED. Where BUFFY, for example, felt HEIGHTENED, our show should feel like OUR WORLD, real-life America. With a darkness that bubbles and boils just beneath the surface. And I want to keep the weekly stories CREDIBLE- leave 'em with a question mark, the possibility of a rational explanation. Something early X-Files did very well.

Finally, I want this show to capture a certain SPIRIT. For one, that youthful electricity of dropping out and hitting the open road; the freedom of wide-open American spaces. But also, EVERY road trip story-from FEAR and LOATHING to Kerouac to The Odyssey, are inherently mythic quests, hero's journeys, real Joseph Campbell stuff. The way STAR WARS, LORD OF THE RINGS, and MATRIX are all the same story, with the same beats. So our series, too, is an epic hero's quest-- across the United States. Almost like a modern western, and our heroes are gunslingers. Or, as I like to call it - it's STAR WARS in TRUCK STOP AMERICA.

II. CHARACTERS AND FRANCHISE

Now, let's get into establishing our characters, and launching our franchise.

So if this is STAR WARS, meet LUKE SKYWALKER. SAM HARRISON, 21. Think Jake Gyllenhall, or Tobey Maguire. Smart, funny, handsome, maybe a little type-A. He just graduated Stanford with a 4.0, and now he's heading back down to L.A., where he lives with his Aunt and Uncle, he'll spend the summer clerking at a powerful law firm. And in the Fall... Harvard Law, thank you very much. Pedal to the metal, Sam is cruising the track to success. But, like all good Luke Skywalker heroes, Sam is vaguely restless. He tells his girlfriend, maybe he should drop everything this summer and blow off to Europe. But of course, he doesn't. He has too many responsibilities.

Sam's well adjusted, successful life, it's a real triumph, especially considering his background. Fifteen years ago, his dad JACK became increasingly dark and depressed. He drank. A lot. Until Mom and Dad were in a car crash. Dad was driving. He lived. Mom didn't. That triggered a schizophrenic breakdown in Dad. He swore that twisted, dark, horrific things caused that crash and took Mom away. And those same dark things were chasing after him. Dad was institutionalized. But he escaped. And disappeared.

Sam is ashamed of his tragic past. Hates his Dad, blames him for killing Mom, and NEVER, EVER talks about it.

Now, Sam's mythic CALL TO ADVENTURE, the events that will change his life forever, begin simply enough. When his big brother DEAN rolls into town. Meet DEAN HARRISON, 25, think Colin Farrel. If Sam's the good kid, Dean's the troublemaker. If Sam's Luke Skywalker, Dean's Han Solo. Charismatic and dangerous. Cocky confidence masking a troubled soul. Sam hated Dad, but Dean was older and remembered Dad in brighter days, and he worshipped the man. Sam buried his past and ignored it, but Dean was haunted by it, never quite got his shit together. Dean never went to college. Just sort of traveled around. In fact, Sam hasn't heard from Dean in almost 3 years, which Sam clearly resents.

And now... Dean makes Sam a proposition. Let me drive you down to L.A.- it's just one day, we'll get a chance to catch up a little. Reluctant, Sam agrees.

At first, they're enjoying the electric, carefree pleasures of a ROAD TRIP. Top down, radio blaring, singing their lungs out to AC/DC.

But then... at twilight... on an empty stretch of highway... Dean's driving. And he has to make a confession. (Though I'm sure we'll break this up into a few different scenes.) "Sam. There's something I need to tell you," Dean says. “I went looking for Dad. And I found him. Took just about every dime I had, but I found him. And I've been with him, for almost 2 years." Sam is shocked and betrayed: "what?! Why didn't you tell me?!" But Dean continues: "listen. I know this is hard to believe. But Dad WASN'T nuts.

Demons really DID kill Mom. Dark, awful things WERE following Dad. I know. Because I can see them. Because they're following me, too."

Obviously, Sam is BEYOND freaked and well aware that schizophrenia is hereditary. Dean goes on, getting worked up-“so Dad figured out how to kill these things, and he showed me how. Until they caught up to us in Baker. They got Dad. Before I got them." "What do you mean, you GOT them?” asks Sam. “I killed a demon. In human form," says Dean. “You killed somebody?!" "No, I killed a DEMON, it only LOOKED human.” (Which could be a scary, visceral teaser, by the way.) Anyway, DEAN continues: “Listen to me, Sam... it was Dad's wish, his DYING WISH, that I find you, that I teach you the way he taught me.” At this point, Sam goes into placating, survival mode. “Okay. Sure. Just calm down." But Sam's terrified-of his own brother.

Meanwhile, as this conversation's going on, Dean isn't going to L.A. He takes a detour-- for all intents and purposes, kidnapping Sam. They pull into a small, faded, all-American town in Central California. It's 1950's American optimism gone to seed. Basically, they pull right into the pilot's SELF ENCLOSED B-STORY. Whatever it is, the story should be simple, giving us room to focus on the brothers. It should be based in Folklore. And it should be personal—the job their father never completed.

Now, here's an example of exactly the kind of story I'm talking about. The real life ghost story of the "Weeping Woman," a sobbing wraith in a bloody white nightgown. She murdered her children by the river side, as revenge against her unfaithful husband. And today, it's said she lures unfaithful men to the river and drowns them. And sure enough, several MEN in this town have turned up dead by the river's edge. Anyway, something like this. And Dean, despite his smart ass jokes and references to the movie Poltergeist, seems to be taking this SERIOUSLY.

But Sam doesn't believe a WORD of it. First moment he's alone, he calls his Aunt and Uncle. “I'm with Dean, I think he's sick.” They tell him—"cops in Baker found your Dad's body. And a truck driver's body, too. Dean's the suspect. You have to get away! Where are you?!” But before Sam can answer-he pivots, right into Dean. Who grabs the phone, SMASHING it, furious: “Dammit, Sam, I'm not insane," Dean says, “Caspar the unfriendly fucker is really out there!"

Then, as Dean delves deeper and deeper into the ghost story, dragging a reluctant Sam along with him... INEXPLICABLE SUPERNATURAL phenomenon begin to occur, which SERIOUSLY RATTLES Sam. We'll have several good, scary set pieces. And soon, Sam doesn't know WHAT to think. And in the B-STORY'S climax, he'll even save Dean at some crucial point. (Though we'll be careful to leave things open ended, with just the possibility of a logical explanation.)

Afterwards, a beat in which Dean, vulnerable, says to his brother-"I've been thinking. And you're going home, Sam. You're smart, and you've got everything going for you. I don't care what Dad said, I can't let you live like this... Still," says Dean, "it was nice having you around. When you're with somebody... you just don't feel as crazy as

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often." Sam's very conflicted, and he feels awful, but he can't just abandon his old life. So the brothers part ways. Sam hitchhikes up the road. Meanwhile, thanks to his Aunt and Uncle, the cops have been searching for Sam, and now they find him.

At the station, Sam tells the cops, Dean's in Colorado by now. But a patrol car has spotted Dean's parked Mustang at a nearby motel. The police grab SHOTGUNS, they're going to take Dean with force. And in the face of ONE PASSING COP, Sam sees-a glimpse. A shimmer. Something DEMONIC and INHUMAN flashes across the cop's face-and then it's gone, just as quick. Did Sam imagine it? Is he going insane, too? Or is Dean really in danger? Are dark, awful things really after him, like he said?

This is Sam's crossroads moment. And he makes a decision-he takes off. Steals a car. Beats the cops back to Dean. Warns him at the last minute. It's very TIGHT and very HECTIC, but Sam and Dean get away. Escaping by the skin of their teeth.

As we leave Sam... he doesn't know if he's losing his mind. He doesn't know if Dean's a hero or a homicidal schizophrenic. All he knows is-Dean's his brother, and he needs help. And for now, that's enough.

III. THE SERIES ITSELF

I think the overall GOAL here, is building an engine that gives us SELF ENCLOSED STORIES. I am gonna pitch some very simple mythology, but STAND ALONES are a format I really believe in, they're the shows I loved and grew up on. Like the best EARLY episodes of X-FILES.

So basically, our two heroes, avenging their parents' death, cruise the golden backroads of America-picture chrome diners and bucolic farms and dusty Route 66 towns. Places that are mythic and American, but also haunting, in a way. Places where horror can strike in broad daylight. Sam and Dean are kind of like classic gunslingers, or dragon slayers, finding-and KILLING—the monsters of American folklore.

So first question-how do they find the damn things? Dean tracks these creatures in a low-tech way. He scans obituaries for strange deaths. Dean also has a loose network of contacts - defrocked ministers and trailer park psychics, who impart information to our heroes whenever necessary.

Second question-how do they KILL the damn things? The answer—they have no fucking idea. They're outgunned and desperate and in completely over their heads. They don't have a WATCHER, like in BUFFY. They don't have an OBI WAN. They're on their own. Each week, they gotta figure out what the hell they're dealing with, and how the hell to kill it. And a lot of the time, they're wrong, and they have to improvise. Whether it's finding a ghost's remains - and burning them into dust; or loading a shotgun with silver buckshot, our guys will do whatever it takes to get the job done.

#2019-Feb #2019:February7 #*spn 1x01 #*SMT #Eric Kripke #Twitter #*scripts

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