#actually he would be more like 'where are you getting the money for all this travel'

[onlyyvette]

BJ from your fave

warnings: top/dom reader + reader has a dick + age gap(barely mentioned) + blowjobs + hair pulling + bit of dacryphilia + choking + dick stepping + toji is a masochist + also a bit of a cumslut

★ Toji Fushiguro is a wickedly handsome man, and you've 100% fell for his charms. From his piercing green eyes, to the ragged scar etched onto his face, and when your eyes wandered further, his sculpted body that you could drool over for hours. No matter where or when you saw him, whether he was gambling his money away at a casino, or making shady deals in a dark alleyway, it was like he could never be caught not looking his best. It would actually be really annoying if you didn't find him so damn attractive.

Even now, when he's taking your dick deep in his throat, he looks fucking mesmerizing. You watch as his head bobs up and down on your length, leaving a traces of spit on your dick every time he lifts his head up. His dexterous tongue works its way around your cock, licking up all he beads of pre spilling from your tip. You swear it feels long enough to wrap around your whole shaft.

Toji suddenly stops sucking you off, leaving a string of shiny spit as he removes mouth from your dick. "You going to stand still forever," he says with a husky voice, pressing a kiss to your tip. "Or are you actually going to fuck my throat like you promised?" His clear green eyes narrow, mouth stretching into that smirk he knows you can't stand. He might have gotten you there, but you were going to keep true to your promise.

"Really thought you we-- mmMPphh!" Toji's eyes widen as you grip his hair and push your dick in his mouth. Without giving him a break, you feed him more of your dick, inch by inch, while his eyes begin to water and he nearly chokes. "Mmnghh! Uhmnghh...mhghh--!" Toji can barely even breathe! Your thick cock stretching his throat out way quicker than when he was blowing you at his own pace. His face is now red as a strawberry and the tears in his eyes are threatening to spill. His hands fist the fabric of your clothes. All Toji can do was moan and slurp on your cock while you had your way with him. He wasn't fighting back though. This was exactly what he wanted.

"I told you'd I'd fuck your throat raw, didn't I?" you growl, pulling him off your dick until his mouth only rests on the tip. You then slam your cock into Toji's mouth, hitting the back of his throat. Finally properly fucking his mouth, you thrust into his wet heat, savoring the sensation of his tongue sliding across your shaft and his throat tightening around your dick.

Toji can only take your dick deeper and deeper into his throat and he couldn't get enough of it. His scalp is throbbing with pain from your rough treatment, his throat burns, and his cock is so fucking hard it hurts and he just isn't able to hold back anymore-- He couldn't help it! Your cock was ramming into his throat so roughly and he was being deprived of oxygen, just enough to make him delirious with pleasure. He reaches a hand down, attempting to relieve himself. He's only able to take his dick out of his pants when you kick his hand away.

"Not this time," you say, giving him a mockingly sweet smile. Then, you stamp your foot down on Toji's cock, crushing it. Toji's eyes snap wide open and roll back into his head. "HhhNGGH♡! Gghhh-- Mnggghh♥!" His moans sharply reach a higher pitch and his back arches. The pain coursing through his veins is so fucking overwhelming that he ends up cumming hands-free, barely even aware of his orgasm.

"Unghhh, mhgnn, nnhh..." Toji's half-lidded eyes rolled, his crushed cock still throbbing like mad. His body was still twitching from the aftershocks of his strong orgasm. Your cock was still slamming into his tight throat as strong as ever. You were pleased to see him cum before you, untouched, and it only brought you closer to your climax.

"You've had your fun Toji," you say with a coy smile, pulling him fully off your dick foe the last time. "Now it's my turn." With that, you slam your cock down his throat a few more times before pushing his head down to the base and keeping it there while you cum down his throat. Toji keens as your cum paints his throat white. He eagerly swallows your cum, barely even able to taste it as it as it goes down his throat. With a relieved groan, you pull your softening cock out of Toji's mouth and take his hair into your hand, raising his head to look up at you. Toji looks dazed, his eyes a bit cloudy and wet with tears. His face is still a brilliant shade of red, and his mouth is wide open, tongue out as he swallows gulps of fresh air. You almost wanted to shove your dick in there again...

"You can't be doing stuff like that with me. I'm getting older you know," Toji grumbles. He's now sitting against the wall, recovering from the brutal face fuck he received less than half an hour ago. You roll your eyes. "You're not that old, Toji. You're not getting sympathy points from me." Still though, you didn't want to leave him. It'd probably make you feel like a horrible person if you face fucked a guy, manhandled him, and stepped on his dick, only for yo to leave him to take care of himself. "Hey... you want to get a drink? Alcohol probably won't help with your throat, but I'm sure that's not your biggest concern anyway."

"...Sure."

[just-wrting]

Think I Like You

Title: Think I Like You

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Half Mink!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Master List

Summary: You try to figure out why Zoro won’t take you seriously even if the answer isn’t what you expect.

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m just all over the place with a lot of stuff. I sleep a lot which I can’t tell if it’s a sleep issue or a depression issue, but I’m always tired. I still work full time but also do school part time now. Plus I’ve still got a boyfriend! But he wanted to end this weekend on 1062 which means Zoro brainrot for me.

You stretch and roll over, burying your face into your pillow. Ever since you changed where you nap, you've started sleeping so much better. Something about being more comfortable or something like that. The actual reason doesn't really matter. You're just happy you're sleeping better.

"You owe me for this."

"I don't owe you shit. Not my fault you nap in my spot." You reach up and pat his cheek. "What do I need to do for you to be quiet?"

"I already told you, you owe me."

You open your eyes just a little. "What could I possibly owe you? I don't like to drink, I don't keep money, not to mention I can't even tell if you're the type of man to be swayed by physical charms. What could I possibly offer you, Roronoa?"

"For starters, you can start referring to me by my name like everyone else does." He looks pissed. "You should fight me."

"You didn't take me seriously last time, Moss Head. Why would I bother trying again?"

He pulls on your ear. "I said like everyone else, not like how that idiot says my name."

You ignore him and bury your nose in his stomach. Dinner has been started, and if you don't ignore it you'll end up going to the kitchen early. It's less that Sanji minds seeing you, it's more of the fact that you struggle to suppress the urge to knock shit off the counter and dip your fingers in the sauces. Such is the life of someone like you.

You let yourself doze a little. You can still hear what's going on, but just like every common house cat, you ignore it. What you can't ignore is the gentle scratching behind your ears. As far as you remember, no one has done this since you were a kid. You don't hate the feeling, but you start to feel flustered over it. Ever since you left home, you've made sure affection comes at your own terms so you haven't had this in years.

There's no point in asking him to stop. You're clearly fond enough of him to nap on him, what's the big deal about getting ear scratches? Besides, he's the type to get embarrassed and loud if you point out you're awake. That's not something you feel like dealing with right now. You're too touch starved to complain.

Despite the comfortable conditions, you don't actually fall asleep. You spend the next forty-ish minutes pretending to sleep, waiting for dinner to be done. The time passes by relatively quickly, though you're sore afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to even twitch, worried that he'd stop.

The dinner call goes off, and you pretend to wake up. You have no clue why you're acting, but it was too late to stop twenty minutes ago. Standing up, you stretch halfheartedly. At first, he doesn't say anything. It's only once he catches up to you that he starts asking questions.

"What's the deal with the noise you make?"

Raising an eyebrow, you look at him. "I don't snore, so I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, I can tell you aren't snoring. The other noise, the one that's relaxing. I can usually feel it when you're laying directly on me."

"What do you mean? The other noise?" You pause to think it over before it clicks. "We aren't talking about that."

You know what he's referring to. It's not like it's something you can control, but it's still embarrassing. Of all people to be you around, it's been Zoro. No one on the crew has judged you for being what you are, it's just embarrassing to be a mix. Your mother's human, and your dad's a mink. You look decently human, just with a few quirks.

"What do you mean, we aren't talking about it? We're talking about it right now."

Your face starts to heat up. "I mean I don't want to tell you."

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why not? Is it supposed to be embarrassing or something?"

"If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yeah, sure."

His face instantly relaxes. If you could smack him, you would. The last time you tried, it hurt. So you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a push. The only thing it does is cause his other shoulder to hit the doorframe, but you use it to march past him.

You take your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the booth seat. Kicking your feet up on the space next to you, you watch the crew carefully. Everyone is smiling and in a good mood, so you don't have anything to worry about. You don't ever admit it, but you care about them even if it's difficult to show.

Zoro picks up your legs and lays them in his lap. Since it doesn't seem to bother him, you're tempted to just sit normally. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, and you doubt he does either. However, you actually do enjoy touching him, so you'll stay like this for now.

There's more commotion as Sanji brings out the plates. The one you're most interested in is a large tuna fillet that gets set in the middle of the table. You can't stop staring at it, the tender flesh a beautiful golden color. It's hard to tell if it smells better than it looks or looks better than it smells. Sanji has never failed to impress you with his dishes, so you can't wait to sink your teeth in.

Before you can even start to load your plate, Sanji sets a small plate in front it you. It contains a disk of packed rice, some avocado slices, and chunks of fish. You're assuming it's more of the tuna. Whatever it is, it was made specifically for you.

You don't mind the special dishes. You'll try almost everything, and unlike Luffy, you'll eat it slow enough to give a review. Everything tastes good so you don't get the point, but it probably makes Sanji feel better to have honest reviews and not just someone who loves food fawning over his cooking. Though if you're not careful, you worry that he'll start having write an essay about it.

"And for you, a special tune tartare! If you like it, I'll make it again for everyone some time."

You nod. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I always do. Not that you've ever made a bad dish."

You can't stop the tip of your tail from flicking back and forth in mild annoyance. By the time you get halfway through the tartare, all of the fillet is gone. It's not like it's the biggest deal, you just wish you could've had some of that too. It's not fair that since you got a special tuna dish, that you don't get the other one.

"If you tell me what that noise was, I'll share," Zoro teases while pointing at you with a bite of tuna. "I bet you can't resist answering now."

"I'm a cat. I was making a normal noise that cats make. Consider it a compliment."

You lean forward and take the bite of tuna. It's flakey and melts on your tongue with a slightly sticky glaze that has hints of honey and garlic. You lick your lips savoring the balance of flavors. None of them are overwhelming, but it's hard to gauge in just one bite what you think about it.

"You can't just," Zoro stutters. "You can't just take the food off of my chopsticks. Get your own!"

You grab his wrist and lick the glaze off of the chopsticks. It feels like there's another flavor there that you can't quite tell what it is. It's some sort of herby flavor, that while you enjoy, you can't pin down.

"Here!" Zoro doesn't look at you as he shoves his plate towards you. "Just take it since I don't want your germs."

You want to tease him, but you'll leave him alone. It's better to leave it in front of other people since Robin's insinuations are becoming too much. For now you'll just eat the food. Later, you'll tease him.

—-

"You're still not taking me seriously, Roronoa. Why did you want to fight if you won't take me seriously?"

You lunge, hand reaching for his throat. He blocks it with his arm, causing your claws to dig into his skin. Using his arm as leverage, you pull yourself closer to him, swinging your sword at his side. His parry is effortless, and he looks bored. It's so aggravating that he won't take you seriously in a simple sparring match. Perhaps he'd take you more seriously if you actually tried to kill him.

You disengage before leaping over him. This time, you swing your sword at his neck as he turn around. It's once more blocked, and he smirks. You're just barely faster than him as he takes a halfhearted swing at your sword arm with his other arm. You catch the flat of the blade with your knuckles, steeling your arm against the shock wave of the blow.

Kicking your leg out in front of you, you aim for his knees, intending to bring him down. Despite the grip on his sword, he catches your ankle in his hand and pulls your leg to the side. You let your body pivot with the movement, twisting until your leg is behind you. You yank your foot forward as hard as you can, pulling him into your back.

He's quick to let your ankle go and grab your shoulder to steady himself. In a fluid motion, you swing your arm and grab your dagger. You flick it in your fingers and thrust towards his ribs. His hand trails down your arm to your wrist and pins it behind your back. He gives it a squeeze trying to get you to drop the dagger.

"Are you actually trying to kill him?" Nami tells from the side. "Are you stupid?"

You roll your eyes, sweeping your leg behind you and hooking Zoro's. Despite your efforts, you can't get him off balance, only causing him to take a step back. By now you're getting pissed off. You aren't a bad swordsman, it's just that this jerk is ridiculously smart in battle. This is probably the only time he'll use his brain all day.

You jerk your head back, hitting his jaw. The sound of the impact makes you regret it, knowing you'll feel like shit later. You manage to free yourself as he loosens his grip, and you elbow him as you twist back around. The only reason you're still going is because he won't take it seriously. It's like he finds it funny that he's able to fend you off so easily.

You rush towards him, tossing your weapons to the ground. Digging your claws into his shoulders, you use your momentum to knock him over. It only works because he's too busy rubbing his jaw to notice you in time. The two of you tumble to the deck, and you lean in as close as you can.

"Why won't you take me seriously? Is this just a game?"

Faster than you can blink, he's able to flip and pin you under him. He's even more smug than the last time you sparred, and you can't tell if you want to smack him or if you should kiss him. Not that you could smack him, he's got your hands above your head. While kissing him would let you win, you're not willing to fight that dirty in a friendly match.

"You're a brute, Zoro. You can't just manhandle the other crewmates just because you feel like it." Sanji pulls him off you. "If you were in the mood to fight I would've taken the offer."

You tune out their fight as Chopper checks your head and shoulder. You're a bit sore now, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Nothing keeps you down for long, even if it's usually just you going against the doctor's orders. The only thing actually bothering you is the fact that for a moment you thought he was going to answer your question. Though the fact you thought about kissing him is also an issue.

It's not difficult to figure out why you thought that way. Your parents made sure that you knew to find someone strong enough to protect you in case of something happening, even if you knew how to take care of yourself. That, and he's easy on the eyes. Even if he's an idiot half of the time, that doesn't matter. Your parents never said to find a smart man, just a strong one. Everything else was your choice.

Chopper hands you a damp towel, and you use to clean under your claws. Tiny spots of blood rest under them, probably from when you grabbed Zoro. If the pinprick wounds bothered him, he doesn't show it. He's too busy trying to shove Sanji off the boat. As long as you stay dry, it doesn't matter if they end up overboard. They can both swim.

After a few minutes, Nami separates them. You watch her glare at the men before you stalk off to take another nap. The sun is just starting to dip below the water, so finding a nice patch of sun to lick your figurative wounds isn't possible. You'll have to settle for sulking in some weird spot. Perhaps it's time to torment the fish in the tank once more.

Lounging on the sofa is probably the second best place to nap. The sound of the tank constantly humming while you watch the fish swim in tempting circles puts you at ease. You stretch out fully, let your arm and tail hang off the edge. The tip of your tails twitches slightly as you trace the movement of a particularly large bass. That should be tomorrow's lunch, perhaps in a stew. Even though it hasn't been long since you had food, your mouth starts to water at the idea of seafood stew.

"He really doesn't take you seriously, does he?"

You recognize Robin before she even speaks. Her stride is longer than Nami's with her steps being lighter than everyone else's. Not to mention she smells floral. It's never overpowering, but it allows you to pick her out from the crew.

"I guess not. Maybe I should've gone for his other eye."

She laughs, sitting down next to you. You aren't opposed to the company, especially if it's Robin. There something about her that puts you at ease.

"I don't think he'd like that," she muses. "What did he say to you?"

You scoff. "He didn't say anything. Bet he's too proud to take me seriously, like the jerk he is."

Robin smiles knowingly. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Maybe you should talk to him, just the two of you. I'm sure he'd tell you when no one else is around."

You frown. "What is he? A shy school boy? There's only one reason for not taking me seriously in a fight, and it would be him not thinking I'm even worth it. No point in having him tell me that in private, he can just keep it to himself."

She reaches out her hand, gently brushing your hair from your eyes. "Then what do you think about him?"

"I think he's an idiot who swapped out his brain for more muscles."

"Let me rephrase that. What feelings do you have about him?" There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "At least figure that out."

You shift so you can place your head in her lap. "I guess he's fine most of the time. I don't know why I enjoy his company, I just do. He's never really pushed me on anything, just sort of letting me do my own thing. Not to mention he's comfortable. As much as I hate admitting it, I suppose I like being around him."

She continues to brush your hair with her fingers silently. It's one of those tactics of hers. She'll stay quiet until you keep talking.

"What do you want me to say? He's nice enough to me, I can respect him as vice-captain, and he's decent looking. Everything else I think about him is my little secret." You're starting to get irritated talking about him. "Actually, I think I'll go talk to him now. I'll drag that answer out of him if I have to."

Robin looks at you with worry as you sit up. "Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. What are you going to do if his answer isn't what you expect?"

"I'll deal with it when it happens," you say with a shrug. "It's not like it'll be anything surprising."

You take your time wandering around the ship. It's not hard to tell where he is, you'd rather put it off for a little bit longer. This weird feeling in your chest has been bothering you a lot lately. It can't be ignored anymore, but that doesn't mean you're one hundred percent ready to admit it.

Thankfully, he's exactly where you knew he was. You won't tell him that you enjoy finding him when he's working out. Something about him being shirtless is nice. Not that he usually bothers with wearing a shirt, so you can usually just stare whenever you want. Maybe he just likes the attention, and you'll gladly give it to him.

As soon as he leans back on the bench, you sit on his lap and stretch out over his torso. You rest your chin on your hand, pressing your palm on his chest. Watching as he sets the barbell back on the stand, you wait for him to start talking. It would be fine with you if he kept working out, but he seems opposed to the idea.

"Is bothering me amusing to you?"

You tilt your head slightly. "You're not cute when you're mad, so no. I was just hoping we could talk."

"You don't have to sit on me to talk."

"That's just personal preference. Besides, you tend to avoid talking about certain things and this keeps you from leaving." you say with a Cheshire grin. "I enjoy your touch, so this is ideal for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoro looks away from you. “You keep saying weird stuff.”

You don’t even blink as you respond, “I enjoy your touch. That’s what that means. I’ll even be nice and tell you the answer to your question from earlier. As a cat, I sometimes purr when I feel comfortable and content. Though some cats purr when scared.”

“So you’re scared of me? Is that what that means?”

“No. The only thing particularly scary about you is the fact that you’re an idiot.” Your ears twitch. “But since I answered your questions, you can answer mine. Why don’t you fight me seriously?”

He looks at you for just a moment, before looking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s embarrassed by the answer and is hoping you’ll forget about it. However, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want. You’re just waiting to see what he’ll do.

“I-,” Zoro cuts himself off to hide behind his hand. “I could hurt you really bad. That would be bad.”

Your tail swishes on the ground in mild irritation. “So you think I’m incapable of defending myself. That would explain the times you’ve interrupted my fights.”

“It’s not that!” He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the ground. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I’m around. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

You’re nose to nose with him now. Even at this distance, he can’t seem to make eye contact. You can smell the liquor from dinner on his breath. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss him, but for some reason the thought makes you nervous. You’re usually close to him, so why is this time different?

“Why should you keep me safe?” you mumble. “Do you save me out of obligation for the crew? If so, aren’t there better people on the crew to swoop in and save?”

“Does it matter why?” The way that his lips almost touch yours as he speaks makes you flustered.

You close your eyes. “Yes. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you think of me as nothing more than a burden of a crew-mate. Just be honest with me for once, Zoro.”

You don’t regret the soft begging tone as you say his name. You regret not saying his name in that almost pathetic tone sooner. The way that he kisses you makes your head spin. Even though he’s holding you close, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to make yourself feel more steady.

Zoro kisses you like he’s been wanting to for months. His hold on your waist makes it impossible to move, and the way that his hand grips yours hair makes you moan. You can barely breathe as his tongue explores your mouth, your grip on reality slipping as his fingers dig into thigh.

Even when he pulls away to let you breathe, you find yourself lost in the way he touches you. Sloppy kisses trail down your jaw and neck, coming to an end with his teeth on your collarbone. The way that his fingernails scrape gently against your scalp as he tugs lightly on your hair causes you to expose more of your chest to him as you lean into his palm.

You’ve never felt like this before. Hot, heavy, and breathless all while being lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it in you to resist him if he wanted more. In fact, the pathetic words of begging him to ravish you weigh heavy on your tongue. Yet he just continues to press kisses along every inch of skin exposed to him, ignoring how hard you’re panting as little moans escape you. He’s oblivious to everything but the act of kissing you.

Zoro only pauses after you tug his hair harshly. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help the reaction to him biting down on the side of your neck. You couldn’t even help the strangled groan that leaves you as he leaves a mark. For some reason, your body is shaking like you have some sort of withdrawal.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

You kiss him again, desperate to get as close as you can. Desperation courses through your body as you realize just how badly you’ve waited for this. You’ve spent months being almost attached to him so it makes sense, you just can’t figure out how you missed it. The long nights spent curled up in his lap, face buried in his neck has left you craving him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, unwilling to let this stop. It doesn’t even matter anymore how prideful you’ve been up until this. It’s so obvious how much you want him. Nothing could hide it anymore.

“Zoro.” You don’t even open your eyes. “Please.”

He gives your thigh a tight squeeze as you whimper. You can tell that what little restraint he has is fading with each whine of his name. Yet he’s able to pause and hold you close, breathing heavily into your ear. Eventually, he covers your mouth with his hand, stifling your words.

“Not like this,” Zoro says, his tone meaning he’s serious. “If you really want it, I want to make it special.”

“S-special?” You don’t know what that means. When was the last time someone told you that you were special? “How?”

“Just better than in the exercise room on the Sunny. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

You nod, and he lets his grip loosen. Despite the fact that nothing much happened, you feel drained. Maybe it’s because you really enjoy naps, but the exhaustion is hitting you hard. You don’t hide it, letting yourself go limp as Zoro picks you up.

“You can sleep in my bunk tonight. Not that it matters if I say you can as you usually show up anyway.”

You caress him jaw before giving his cheek a kiss. “Thank you, Zoro.”

The flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed by all beside you. Not that it matters, you don’t want to hide your feelings for him any longer. If he agrees to it, you’ll parade your feelings for the world to see.

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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[wisteria-lodge]

2 things about Lily

It's obvious that she was the one to defeat Voldemort the first time around, not Harry, but Rowling refuses to elaborate on the spell, saying that she cast it accidentally (which... yeah sure, but then she created a world where only one mother and child could do it out of love... like did other children that suffered were not loved enough? oh i so dislike that). I don't know why Rowling does it. Like I always wanted it to be an actual spell that she (and James) researched and did as part of their back-up plan, but noooooo. A woman? Win against the big bad? In the 90s?? Noooo

Lily grew up with two people that we get to know intimately, and loved them dearly. Two very miserable, envious people, who likely hid their accents and the fact that they are of working class, two people who did everything, and sacrificed many things in order to be around characters who where wealthy. Two social climbers. And you know what Lily also did? This has to be deliberate. Like, I don't think that it's a bad thing. I think that Lily definitely wasn't as insane about social climbing as Severus and Petunia (I consider social mobility to be a positive thing!!), buuut she too married into money. So there is that.

I find it sad that the prospect of Lily being crazy ambitious and wanting to have better things are always portrayed as bad in fics, if it is discussed at all. You could have made her into a person who dreams about making it and give her a conflict about marrying into money, feeling like she will become a fake, and still craving that security! But nooooooo. Pefect perfection or a sleazy seductress, nothing else ever

Extremely good points. Wanting social stability is just a real, relatable thing, and it's got to be a lot for Lily, being told you're magic... and ADDITIONALLY learning that the power structure of the magical world that you live in now is super prejudiced against you? And there is an active dark wizard *currently* targeting people like you?

Also the sacrificial magic being cast accidentally never made sense. Harry does the same thing (I guess) on purpose at the end, with the result that all of Voldemort's spells have trouble "sticking," because Harry sacrificed himself for EVERYBODY? But I mean Regulus also sacrificed himself to protect people from Voldemort, he didn't have to die. Dumbledore willingly died to protect... Harry, Draco, Snape? Shouldn't that have had some magical effect?

It honestly would have been *so* much easier to say that Lily defeated Voldemort with a spell that sacrificed the caster's life. That's very cool, old-magic vibes.

But... this slots into an larger trend with the way JKR writes passivity and self-negation as heroic traits. The best example of this is Newt Scamander, her hero with the central traits "neutral" and "pacifist." But even with Harry... there's a reason he doesn't level up his core spells, and is most heavily associated with a disarming spell that he learns in year 2 and a shield spell he learns in year 3. JKR actively doesn't want him to be a combat character. It is *true* that Harry does not cast a single spell on-page in the entire first book. He does more magic later, but that original tendency is still there: there's a reason most of Harry's level-ups consist of loot given to him by loved ones, and not so much skills that he improves. JKR's ethos on power (expressed through Dumbledore) is that the people who handle power best are the people who don't want it.

And unfortunately... leveling up your spells on purpose... now that sounds like something that a person who WANTS POWER would do. Casting super duper powerful spells accidently (which harry also does, constantly) (and Lily does, of course) ... now *that* is much more morally pure.

[gub-bins]

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO PAY ANY MONEY TO SEE SPACE BABY.

YOU HAVE TO PAY MONEY IF YOU WANT TO SEE IT EARLY, ALL AT ONCE, WITH THE CREATOR TALKBACK. THIS IS A STARKID BUSINESS MODEL THAT HAS EXISTED SINCE 2014, IT IS NOT "BEHIND A SECOND PAYWALL", IT IS A WAY TO GIVE A LITTLE EXTRA MONEY TO THE ARTISTS WHO WORKED ON THE SHOW KNOWING FULL WELL THAT IT IS AN EXPERIMENTAL PILOT AND COULD FLOP.

anyways. hi this is my rant blog so here's the rant

tldr: starkid needs a social media manager, they don't make the youtube residuals or ticket sales profit you think they do, chicago and la are great places to do theatre due to the audiences they draw but they are SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE, capitalism is rotting this country from the inside out and starkid knows this better than anyone

first and foremost:

curt mega is not a legal representative of starkid and he is entirely within his rights to defend misconceptions about the art he makes. he is so respectful to the fandom on here, even apologizing to the confessions blog after accidentally following them because he wants fans to have a safe space where they don't feel like they're being monitored by someone from the company. there is nothing wrong with him trying to assuage people's fears about the show. debunk whatever you want my dude (including if i say anything wrong in this post!)

i am not, under any circumstances, a blind defender of starkid. they've made choices that i do not enjoy in the 15 years that i've been watching them. like i say in this post, i think fans need more notice than a week if there is going to be a livestream we have* to pay money for. i would like a musical that is composed by someone other than jeff or clark. i wish the black friday deluxe download had the digital ticket in it. i wish jangle ball could've come to the actual southeast rather than claiming to be coming to the east coast then hanging out in new york (but as you'll see, that would've cost MONEYYYY). you will notice that these are nitpicky personal grievances. that's the point. im not gonna shell out completely for a group of white guys in LA, no matter how autistic i am about the musicals they make.

as someone who also donated to starkid returns and has also been disappointed to see how long it's taken for this stuff to get off the ground (I absolutely loved cinderella's castle but i would not have minded waiting for it if it meant we got space baby sooner or sissy/ttip. i want to see/read Sissy SO FUCKING BAD)

but think about it. starkid returns made $386,000. a weeklong rental of the El Portal Theatre costs $12,000. so for two weeks of tech thats $24,000. the two weekends of performances were $6,000-7,500 each. it's $7500 per shoot day for a film production. already, that's almost $50,000. Now think about renting film equipment, making costumes, sets, props, paying the cast, crew, theatre technicians, house management, REHEARSAL SPACE RENTAL, we don't know if any of the actors had to be housed in LA while they were working on the show, not to mention getting merch made (FUCKING EXPENSIVE). And that's just on Nerdy Prudes. They also had an entire fucking national tour to fund. i ain't doin the math on every theatre they rented for that tho.

while the 10iversary kickstarter made about $547,000, considerably more than SK Returns, that money went into funding the travel and stay of the fuck ton of people who came to LA for the show, renting the Ace Hotel Theatre, funding Black Friday, and of course the unfathomably expensive Wiggly plushes, which were very kindly restocked what, three or four times? because the FANS kept begging for them. and then after all of that was said and done, the company took a huge hit with the pandemic. Some of the SK returns money probably went into making Workin' Boys too! That's what happens when a global pandemic shuts down all your plans for two years!

i was also surprised to hear that space baby wasn't going straight to youtube. I had it in my mind that it was going to be something similar to Movies, Musicals, and Me. I see now that I was incorrect. It's experimental. It involves SO MANY ACTORS. and not to mention starkid has been doing the digital ticket prior to youtube release thing for YEARS. my main thing is that i would be totally totally fine with having to buy another ticket for space baby (which is only $10 by the way, less than all of their other digital tickets. not to mention it includes the talkback afterwards) if they had only clarified it just a little bit earlier. Nightmare Time 2 was announced on October 8th, 2021 and the first ticketed livestream wasn't until the 23rd. that's two weeks, a whole week longer than we got for space baby. however, im willing to understand that there probably wasn't as much time to announce things/people have been a little bit scrambled lately due to, i dunno, having to evacuate due to the raging wildfire.

unfortunately, people aren't always going to understand that making art is fucking expensive in this day and age. i hate that starkid has to keep reiterating that but it might be smoother if they had a media trained person running the socials who had a prewritten explanation of "making stuff costs money" for the people who don't get it. and then when starkid DOES do stuff for cheap they get taken advantage of. i'm still not over those fuckwads who bought meredith's beautiful handmade coasters at VHSCC and upsold them for three times as much money. the people who bootlegged the black friday digital ticket and posted it online just cause they didn't want to wait the measly 3 months it took for the show to get posted online.

being angry when the person who made the show is looking at the tumblr tag for the show because he wants to see what people are saying about the show he made comes thru to clarify some misconceptions when the tumblr tag is full of people not understanding the starkid business model that's been around since 2014 is not the move. not the move!!!

[seiya-starsniper]

Sweet Hearts

Art by @designtheendless, who is currently taking Valentine's Day commissions for your OTP!

Read below, or over on AO3, and keep an eye out for an additional treat right at the end 💖🥰💖🥰💖

-----

“What—,” Silco asks, staring in horror at his daughter’s latest…acquisition, “in Janna’s name is that?”

“They’re called Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers with far too much excitement. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asks, holding the offending object even closer to Silco’s face. She either doesn’t notice or is choosing to ignore Silco’s disgust at such a—such a blatant waste of money.

The Sweet Heart, as she calls it, appears to be some sort of brightly colored candy…that just so happens to have her boyfriend’s face printed on it. In full color. They’re small, about the size of a copper coin if Silco had to guess. On closer inspection of the clear plastic bag in Powder’s other hand, there appears to be even more of the atrocities inside, including—

“Is that Vander’s face in that bag?” Silco practically screeches. Powder just laughs, tossing the Ekko heart back into the bag to join its unholy brethren, before she lifts it so that the Sweet Hearts are eye level.

“Yeah, Ekko and I sprung for the whole family!” Powder replies, and Silco desperately wants to know, but also not know how much she’s spent on…fancy candy. Why hadn’t Ekko stopped her? Silco was going to have a stern talk with the boy. “There’s a couple of Hearts with your face on them too, don’t worry!” she adds, shaking the bag for effect.

Silco in fact, had not been worrying about his lack of representation in the mixed bag of sugary confections. He’d rather the entire bag not exist at all, but it was already too late to hope for that.

“I—see,” Silco says, for a lack of a better response. “And where, exactly, did you acquire these?” He knows, even without her having to tell him. The bag itself was far too flashy for any of the businesses in Zaun, and only Piltover would find a way to create a single-use profiteering racket that preyed on the sentimentality of something as simple as a loved one’s portrait.

“At the HexChoc factory,” Power replies with a knowing look on her face, and ah damnit, she had him there. Powder knew that Silco only supported spending money on one business in Piltover, due to the fact that it was co-owned by a Zaunite whom Silco deeply respected. The fact that they made extravagant sweets was irrelevant.

“They were demonstrating how to print the images on the hearts on this new machine,” Powder continues, “and also giving out free samples.”

The mischievous grin on his daughter’s face tells Silco that Powder, by virtue of being Powder, had somehow swindled her way into an entire bag full of free heart-printed candies. Well, at least she hadn’t technically spent any money, but at the same time Silco finds himself mildly worried for Viktor’s profit margins. Jayce Talis’s business acumen certainly left plenty to be desired.

“What’s this?” Vander’s voice booms from behind Silco. Silco does not yell in surprise at his husband’s sudden appearance at his side, but it’s a near thing. 

“Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers cheerfully, before she opens the bag and starts digging around inside. Silco’s worried for a moment she’s going to pull one out with Benzo’s face on it, then realizes just a moment too late what she’s actually looking for.

“Look, it’s Silco!” Powder says before Silco can stop her holding out the bright pink heart to Vander, who takes it with a look of confusion. This was getting incredibly out of hand.

“Powder you know Vander doesn’t like sweets,” Silco sighs, before reaching out to take the heart out of his husband’s hand. But Vander snatches his hand back, surprising Silco.

Oh. Oh no.

“Where’d you say you got these, Pow?” Vander asks, voice wobbling as he cradles the candy heart like it’s made of gold.

Oh no, no, no, no, no—

“Jayce and Viktor!” Powder answers. “They said they’d be willing to make us more whenever we wanted too!”

Fuck.

Silco looks at his husband, wide-eyed and emotional over a piece of candy, and then back at his daughter, who has just bitten into a candy heart of Mylo’s face, and lets out a deep sigh. He was never seeing the last of these blasted candy hearts. And with Sweethearts Day around the corner, he was expecting to see a lot of them in the coming days.

“Hand me a Vander heart, Powder.”

Happy early Valentine's Day to the Zaundads/Vanco fandom! Y'all have been SO WONDERFUL to me as I dove headfirst into this ship, and ahead of Zaundads Week, I wanted to give a little token of my appreciation to every person that I've been able to share some joy with 🥰🥰. I love all of you dearly and am so happy to be trapped in this brainrot with you!

[chvoswxtch]

It has been an expensive few weeks and despite being a very well educated scientist at a reputable institution, I make astoundingly little money. So I’d love to request a little action clip! I’m so taken with the idea of Frank just like casually stealing whatever money is lying around the place after he shoots up a mobsters joint and using it to help you with your bills 🤣

no bc why is living so expensive like where is the groupon for existing??

this one actually made me laugh bc I was thinking about in season 2 when he and amy go to that motel and he hands her that bloody wad of cash and she's like?? bitch what am I supposed to do with this??? and he's like???? pay for the motel dumbass

like he's so calm about it and truly does not give a fuck. he absolutely takes whatever money is lying around bc it's not like they're using it anymore 🤣 but ya know what, in this economy, vigilantism doesn't pay the bills (and neither does having a job apparently) so he's not wrong

blurb below the cut

the many saints of newark starring frank castle

The wad of cash that Frank pulled out and set on your dining table made your eyes widen. The faded green crumpled bills were speckled with what was undoubtedly blood. Staring up at Frank wide eyed, creases of confusion settled in your forehead.

“Where did you get this?”

“From someone that don’t need it no more.”

Frank shrugged off his jacket and walked over towards your kitchen, his heavy booted footsteps echoing on the worn wooden floor. You were still staring at him in incredulity. He’d just dropped what looked like a thousand dollars on your dining table with as much indifference as if he’d dropped a twenty dollar bill to cover take out for the two of you.

“Wha-, Frank, this is…what am I supposed to do with this?”

Frank turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, clearly perplexed by your question. Pursing his lips, he lightly scrunched up his nose and shrugged.

“Whatever you want. Get ahead on a few bills, buy some of that stuff that’s been sittin’ in your cart for weeks, save it, I don’t know. Your call.”

His casual behavior about the situation left you spiraling. You didn’t wanna know where this money had come from. You had an idea, but you didn’t need confirmation. 

“Frank…I can’t…shouldn’t we give this to the police?”

If he was perplexed before, he was full on confused now. He turned to face you fully, his expression twisted up like you’d just asked him the most ridiculous question.

“The hell would we do that for?”

“Well…because. It’s…I mean…isn’t it…like…”

“Sweetheart, it’s money. Money is money. Don’t matter where it came from or who had it. They ain’t got a use for it no more. Besides, better you have it and put it to good use than some crooked cop pocketin’ it, or it collectin’ dust in an evidence locker.”

Frank made a valid point. The logical part of your brain understood what he was saying. And it would definitely give you some breathing room, taking care of more than a few bills so that you could cut back a bit on how much you were working.

Sensing your confliction, Frank set the mug down on the counter and walked over towards you, lightly grasping your chin to get you to look at him.

“Look, only place that money is goin’ is in your bank account. Now either you can deposit it, or I’ll swipe your wallet and do it myself. But it ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”

You knew Frank wasn’t joking. And you knew you weren’t winning this argument. Letting out a quiet huff, you have him a pointed look.

“Yeah let me just stroll into my bank and hand them this bloody money. That won’t get me put on a watchlist.”

“For all they know the blood came from a papercut.”

Grabbing one of the bills and holding it up silently, as if to prove your point, you arched one of your brows. Frank glanced down at it, seeing the way crimson stained the faded green paper like confetti. Rolling his eyes, he swiped the bill and set it down on the table with the rest.

“For fucks sake, gimme your goddamn wallet.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 69

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,055ish

Summary: Your and Logan's relationship continues to progress.

Notes: Only three more chapters after this... I'm already crying... The next chapter is definitely going to be longer. There's going to be fluff and angst and it's going to set up the two different final chapters. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

About a week later, you were finally feeling better and Logan brought date night to you in your living room. He had laid out a blanket on the floor with dinner set out on it. He was currently sitting against the couch with you leaning against him, sitting between his legs. The two of you were silent, enjoying the soft music Logan had playing in the background. Logan’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you to him as his head rested against yours, occasionally pressing kisses against it. 

Logan could tell that something was on your mind, the way you were tense against him and fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. But Logan wasn’t going to press you into speaking right now. He had a feeling that you’d tell him. He was simply trying to enjoy this moment: having you in his arms. Your skin wasn’t as cold as it had been since the incident, so he was going to take that as a win.

You leaned your head back onto Logan’s shoulder as your thoughts spiraled. You were getting sicker, quicker than you cared to admit. And you got a call today that only reminded you of how helpless you were.

“Lo?” You breathed out.

“Hm?” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I… I got a call today.”

“Yeah?”

“It was from my job… They fired me because I miss too many of my shifts.”

“What? They can’t do that.”

“They can. And they’re right… and, if we’re honest with ourselves, I’m only going to miss more.” Logan tried to ignore the reason why you would miss so many more shifts. “Laura and I going to have to find another place to live.”

“No.”

“Lo—“

“Not a chance. You cannot move. How am I supposed to help you if you’re not right here?”

“I can’t afford it, Lo. I’m sorry. It’s killing me to even think about moving. And I haven’t even told Laura yet. I don’t want her to quit school. She has to continue forward, despite everything with me.”

“What if… and hear me out, baby… what if I move in with you?”

“I can’t ask you—“

“You’re not. I’m making plenty for the rent and have saved a lot of money to help with Laura’s tuition as well. I can just sleep on the couch or I can still stay at Wade’s and just help out. Baby…” 

Logan leaned to the side and pulled your legs into you. He then carefully maneuvered you to face him. Your eyes met his gaze and you lost your breath. He was looking at you with just seriousness and love that it caught you off guard. His large, rough hand came up to cradle your face.

“Let me help you,” he whispered. “Please, baby, let me take care of you… while I can, for as long as I can.”

“Lo,” you breathed out. Your head was slowly moving closer to his, your eyes falling to his lips.

“Yeah, baby?”

You leaned in further but before you could actually pressed your lips against yours. Laura came walking into the apartment. You pushed yourself away from Logan, trying to hide the embarrassment showing on your face.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Laura exclaimed, taking in the scene. “I didn’t realize—“

“It’s fine,” you quickly said, gathering the dishes to clean up.

“No, it’s not,” grumbled Logan.

“I can just go over to Wade’s,” Laura tried.

“Moment’s ruined. How was work and school today, kid?”

“It was good. How was your day?”

“Could have been better.” He glanced over at where you were now in the kitchen, washing the dishes.

“Sorry,” Laura whispered.

Logan ignored her as he began cleaning up. He kept glancing over at you, thinking about how the two of you almost had kissed. He wasn’t all too happy with Laura interrupting their moment, but he knew that it wasn’t truly her fault. Logan was beginning to wish he kissed you months ago, but understood that going at your pace was the most important thing now.

Laura headed to her room, not wanting to ruin whatever was happening between you and Logan more than she already had. You and Logan cleaned up in silence.

“I should probably let you rest,” Logan said as he wiped his hands dry.

“Yeah, okay,” you mumbled.

The two of you walked to the door. You opened it but the two of you stood there, gazing at each other.

“Thanks for tonight,” you quietly thanked. “And thanks for your offer.”

“I’m serious, darlin’. Let me take care of things,” he repeated. “Let me do this while I still can.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Baby,” his hands came up to gently hold your face, “please stop thinking so negatively of yourself. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“Sorry…” Your hands came up to grasp onto Logan’s wrists, rubbing your thumbs along his pulse points. “I can’t help it.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Then I’m gonna have to keep reminding you about how amazing and beautiful you are.”

You rolled your eyes and giggled, “Lo.”

“It’s all true, doll. Every word.”

“I’m so lucky that I have you, Lo… I’m so blessed.”

Logan smiled at your words before his eyes fell to your lips. Your eyes fell to his lips. You took a step closer, dropping your hands from Logan’s wrists to wrap around his waist. Logan leaned in closer and your eyes fluttered close.

“There you are, Peanut!” Wade exclaimed, coming out into the hall.

You bit your lip as you stepped away, letting go of Logan. His hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists as his claws poked out.

“Fuck!” Logan muttered.

“I’m going to head to bed,” you said. “Goodnight, Wade. Goodnight, Lo.”

“Night, Buttercup!” Wade said as you slipped into your apartment and shut the door. “Anyway, I have something for you, Peanut.”

“What could you possibly have for me that you needed to interrupt us?” Logan was clearly frustrated, which did not phase Wade.

“Here!” Wade handed over a box.

“A watch? Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s a smart watch1 It will allow you to stop losing track of time and for all of us to get a hold of you easier.”

“I hate you.” 

Logan shoved the box into Wade’s chest and stomped into their apartment.

“Is this because you need to get laid?” Wade shouted, following after the man. “Because I can totally help—“ Wade was cut off when claws plunged into his head. “Ouch.”

~~~

Despite the poor timing for the gift giving, Logan still woke up the next day and put on the stupid smart watch. He went to work as usual and on the way home, picked up your favorite treat. When he came into your apartment, Logan wasn’t surprised to see Wade already there for dinner. What he was surprised about was that you and Wade were sitting at the table and Laura was working on dinner in the kitchen.

“Lo!” You greeted happily as he sauntered over to you.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “Got you something.”

“You didn’t need to, Lo.”

“Wanted to. Here.” He pulled out your favorite treat and handed it to you.

“I was just craving these! You must be a mindreader.”

“Only yours, doll.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Hey! You’ve been living with me and you’ve never once brought me a treat!” Wade complained. “I even gifted you that watch you’re clearly wearing. I feel under appreciated here, Peanut.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “What? You want a forehead kiss, too?”

“You know what? Maybe I do! I deserve one for putting up with your grumpy ass all the time.”

“Oh my gosh,” you laugh. “If he bought you that watch, Lo, I think he deserves a forehead kiss.”

“I agree,” Laura piped in with a teasing smirk.

“Three against one here, babe.”

Logan immediately caught the new nickname and cheeks flooded his cheeks. You didn’t seemed phased at all, which was fine. He didn’t want you to stop calling him that. He would do anything for you, including give Wade a kiss on his forehead.

“Fine,” Logan huffed. 

Leaning down, Logan’s lips don’t get the chance to touch Wade’s forehead before Wade quickly moves and plants a wet kiss on Logan’s lips. Logan’s claws were out in record time and plunged into Wade, shoving him back.

“I fucking hate you,” Logan growled.

You and Laura were cackling, tears springing in your and Laura’s eyes at what had just happened.

“That was great!” You laughed.

“Wait, you’re not jealous, Buttercup?” Wade taunted. “I bet he’ll finally kiss you, too, if you ask him.”

“Wade—“

“Maybe I can finally fucking kiss her if we stopped getting interrupted!” Logan shouted. The room fell silent for a moment after Logan’s outburst. You reached out to grab his wrist but he pulled away. “I need a minute.”

“Lo—“

“I won’t be long.”

You watched as Logan hurried out of the apartment, practically slamming the door behind him. You glared at Wade.

“You went too far,” you told him, shaking your head.

“Hey!” Wade held his hands up. “I’m just trying to help. You both are the slowest movers.”

“Yeah, well, maybe how slow we go doesn’t matter.”

“It does when you’re on death’s door.” Wade immediately knew he had crossed a line when your face fell. “Shit! Buttercup, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine, Wade.” You waved him off as you stood up. “I’m going to go find Logan.”

You quickly left. Laura went over to Wade and hit him upside the head.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

~~~

You found Logan on the roof. He was standing, over looking the street with an unlit cigar between his lips. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers ever so slightly. You winced at the pain as Logan’s cigar lit. Logan jumped at turned around to see you cradling your hand.

“Shit, baby,” he dropped the cigar and rushed over to you. “Why did you do that?”

“I’m fine.”

Logan took your hand and closely examined it. Your finger tips were blackened with little blisters already forming. His heart was breaking at the sight.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” you quietly responded. “I just wanted to do something for you… I’m sorry for Wade.”

“You don’t need to be apologizing for that idiot.”

“And I’m sorry that we keep getting interrupted. If it helps, I want to kiss you too. I’ve wanted to for a while now, just been too nervous.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… you make me nervous.”

Logan chuckled. “You have know idea how nervous you make me, baby… So, can I kiss you?”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

Slowly, the two of you went in. Your noses bumped causing the two of you to pull back with a laugh.

“Here,” Logan muttered. 

He gently took your hands and placed them on his waisted before his hands came to carefully cradling your face. You closed your eyes, allowing Logan to take the lead on this. His lips barely brushed against yours, hesitant to take the leap. But then his lips captured yours. It had been years since either of you had truly kissed anyone like this and you were both a little rusty, but that didn’t matter. You gripped his waist tighter as you melted further into the kiss.

Suddenly, you both were jumping as Logan’s new watch beeped in your ear. Logan groaned as he pulled away and allowed you both to look at his watch. You bit back a laugh as you read ‘abnormal heart rate detected’ on the screen. Logan’s face instantly heated up in embarrassment as his watch clearly called him out on how affected he was. 

“Damn watch,” Logan grumbled, ripping it off and throwing it across the roof. “I’m sorry, doll. That was embarrassing.”

“It’s fine, but am I going to have to worry about you having a heart attack if we kiss again?”

“Not a chance, baby.”

Logan pulled you in for another kiss, less hesitant this time. You let Logan take the lead again, just enjoying kissing him. When the two of you finally parted, your foreheads rested against each other.

“Be my girlfriend,” Logan panted softly.

You smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

next chapter >

[c0smikgirl]

Does anyone else think about this? Because I do. A lot. Like, so much actually. Why was he living by himself as a teen? Did he run away, was he kicked out, did something else happen?? What happened to his family and why was he not able to stay with them anymore?(Actually, what about his family AT ALL? Does he have a mother, father, siblings? Did he live with any other family members, and if so, what happened for that to be the case?) What age is a “teen” and how long did he live like that?? Where was his source of income??? You can’t tell me being a textbook tuff guy beating up people for movie money is a good source of income for him to have been living alone in a major tourist city at 15.

UGH Im so upset we didn’t get anything about his backstory. I understand that you can’t make an in depth backstory for every single character, but also I feel like Mista is a really important character that deserves more than just how he joined Bucciarati’s gang. I also think that if we knew more about his family it would have made his tetraphobia make more sense because I’m sorry but having a deep rooted, heavy, sickening fear of the number 4 due to your neighbour getting their eyes scratched by a cat is such a bs thing 😭 and don’t get me wrong, I really like characters with ambiguous backstories because it gives a lot of freedom and creativity to the fans, but this is wayyyy too ambiguous for a major character. Embarrassingly ambiguous, even.

[lsunstreakerl]

thirding the matching tattoo ask except it's motogp max and charles is literally just getting a tattoo to try and impress him

700 words for u anon <3 there's not technically max here but it is a pathetically down bad charles. and a very tired seb who definitely hasn't been down this road before...

"Charles..."

Seb raises an eyebrow at him across the meeting room table. Charles hates that look, it's the one where he knows Seb has seen right through him about something.

To be fair, any member of the team could claim that at the moment- Charles is humiliatingly aware of the fact that he hasn't shut up about Max Emilian since he saw him at last months Motorsport event.

Since then, he's bought five magazine spreads, a VideoPass subscription, a mortifying six mini helmets under a different name- shipped to Pierre's flat- a deeply concerning amount of limited collectors merch drops being resold online, and a tattoo shop booking for later today.

Seb sighs.

"You cannot seriously be considering getting a tattoo to impress a boy, Charles."

Oh, Charles is more than considering it. He's definitely doing it.

Charles has met a lot of people since he joined Formula 1- none as captivating as Max.

Huh. Charles has a Max problem. Sometimes he finds himself thinking about the Dutch boy from karting, there and gone in a flash.

It must have been a money thing- although he'd been annoyingly talented, so it's weird he hadn't gotten a sponsor. That Charles is now obsessed with a Max from a different corner of the world- maybe this is just his life, trailing after different Max's like an enraptured puppy.

"You didn't see him Seb, he's so-"

Seb drops his forehead onto the table with a thunk.

"It's like training Daniel all over again."

The words are a low mutter before he lifts his head back up, hitting Charles with an annoyed expression.

"I'm sure he was the hottest man you've ever seen, and you've been thinking about him nonstop, but I promise you- those MotoGP boys are no good."

Charles doesn't care. He'd been obsessed since he saw Max at the paparazzi event at the entrance, legs for miles in a sharp black suit. He'd thought he was going to die when he turned- the silver piercings glinting in his ears, a bar through his eyebrow, silver necklace stack catching the light where the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone.

And then the fucker had winked at him.

Charles' trip to the bathroom a few minutes later was completely unrelated.

He'd thought that was going to be it- glimpses of Max with the other MotoGP riders throughout the night, inconspicuous adjustments of his trousers- but Max had come over to him before the ceremony while everyone was mingling.

Apparently, he and Carlos are friends. Charles had been entranced listening to their conversation in rapid fire Spanish, too fast for him to stand a chance at following. He just liked the way Max's voice sounded, although his voice caught on certain letters differently than Carlos did. He'd chalked it up to a regional accent.

Still- Max has turned to him, grinning wide, and Charles had died on the spot. Dead, gone, buried.

He doesn't even remember half their conversation, spent most of it desperately reminding himself that wrapping his hands around a strangers waist to see how close his fingers would get is rude.

Max had been friendly anyways- fingers brushing against Charles' bicep as they spoke, rings around his fingers.

Charles would've almost called it flirting, if not for the fact that Carlos does that sometimes too, and then blames it on being Spanish.

That he and Carlos have spent nights in each other's hotel rooms before has nothing to do with it.

The point is- Charles is completely captivated. He wants to know more about Max, wants to have a conversation with him that he actually participates in, instead of watching his lips move and thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him.

Obviously, the solution is to permanently get ink put into his skin. Clearly.

He's still not quite sure what the plan is after that- but it's a Later Charles problem.

"It's not even about him, Seb."

Lie.

"I'm just getting the Monza and Monaco tracks around my shoulder."

Truth!

"I might not even tell him about it."

Lie.

Seb looks supremely unimpressed.

"Right."

Seb sighs like he's two hundred years older than he actually is, because coming to Ferrari from Redbull has not only aged him, it's made him dramatic.

"Just- use protection. Don't drink the fruit punch. And do not film a sex tape."

[ocelot-t]

Hi again! :3 Just thought I would ask, since in one of your posts it said that Rosie died first I think? And in another post, which I think it was in a joking manner. The one where Rosie said “Go to hell Alastor” and then Alastor said “Ladies first.” It just got me thinking, how did Alastor feel exactly when she did die first? I don’t think it has been mentioned yet technically? And I’m sorry if it was and I just forgot. ^^💜

Hello :) Thank you so much for the compliments! They're very motivating💙💙💙

Yes, this post was more of a joke, just like the entire comic in September, but there was still a hint that Rosie would end up in hell first

Al felt terrible.

He blamed himself for not noticing her struggles. Perhaps he sometimes saw something amiss, but he didn't want to think too much about it or simply couldn't do anything. I would describe this feeling for him as a mix of guilt, anger towards Rosie, and a lack of understanding of how he could break into the art world without her money and influence. It was a bundle of emotions that he struggled to make sense of.

His condition was very similar to withdrawal. No matter how often Al wanted to leave Rosie, or how angry they were at each other, or how painful their relationship might be at times, he eventually became both financially and emotionally dependent on her. And for him, building a close relationship wasn't an easy task, so her decision hit his mental state hard, and as a result, his art suffered. He hadn't drawn anything for a very long time, which understandably affected his studies at the Academy. And whenever he did draw something, it would either be the image of Rosie from memory (much like what he had done with his mother) or her grave.

He tried to cope with the situation by trying to erase her from his memory, hating her for all the pain she caused, and turning to destructive vices like cigarettes, alcohol, and self-harm. He also started killing more frequently as a way to manage stress, but he soon realized that this path would only lead him to prison at best. With that realization, he attempted to regain control over his actions and thoughts.

The only person he could talk to at that time was Husk. In fact, Husk was the only one who actually knew about their relationship. Although Husk hated him, which Al was aware of, he felt he had no one else to turn to. And also, Alastor knew that Rosie was telling Husk something she wasn’t telling him, so he kept coming to Husk to at least try to figure out what exactly he knows.

and it's a good thing Al didn't realize that he was partly the reason for her suicide.

Alastor didn't even get the chance to attend her funeral.

[concrete-the-cat]

You know, I've come to the realization that a lot of these MAGA guys are actually just literal socialists and would-be union workers who've been conned into believing Trump is the one looking out for the little guy when he's not. I've been watching a lot of YouTube videos where a fair few people go to Trump rallies and pitch leftist ideas in a Trump-esque way, and they eat it up.

I think a good few genuinely believe in the left's side of things and in technicality are socialist but grew up with the education of 'socialist = bad' and because 'they're not bad' they can't be socialist so what else is left but to I guess... not be on the side of the ones people say are socialist since 'socialist = bad'. Don't know if that makes sense but I hope it does.

I mean, think about it for a second: who are the guys buying into the 'conspiracy' that the rich run the world (globalist agenda) and are actively against that? That's literally just 'eat the rich' from a rightist perspective and they don't realize they're fighting for the same thing. Who are the guys yelling about 'big pharma' withholding secret cures for this or whatever for the sake of money? They're two steps to wanting free healthcare and another two from just outright hating the capitalist system. The only issue is how deep the cultist mindset of Trump has been burned into their heads to the point you can't get it through to them without them feverishly denying all this.

It's a sad reality, actually, because this is the same working man spirit that got FDR and Teddy Roosevelt into office. But like Reagan, it's been corrupted and twisted so that people believe the guy fighting for the rich is fighting for them. It's a political zombie invasion- people who would be your friends but a few years ago infected and corrupted into attacking you.

And yes; there are a large amount in his base - probably a majority -that are just racist sexist assholes. I'm not saying all the MAGA guys are secretly your zombified friends. But there are some people who are simply victims of the flawed American education system that both Democrats and Republicans hate (in their own way, of course).

just a few thoughts i've been having while trying to see things more clearly.

[tojisteddy]

Toji core.

“Forwards, beckon, rebound. Forwards, beckon, rebound.”

Or: My idea of Toji’s is like in his simple life + a little bit of you.

cw: alternate universe, shall be referring to this toji as, ‘casual!Toji’ the Toji that I will almost always refer to when I write because I love this idea of him, childless!Toji, he’s still assassin but it’s just a side gig, bit of angst, suggestive talk, talks of mental health.

Casual!Toji, is actually not as bad as you think with his money… Okay, is it mainly because he has a lot of it? Yes. Does he spend a fair amount gambling? Yes. There’s method to the madness.

Casual!Toji, who does job hop here and there whenever he gets the itch to. He switches from being a mechanic to carpentry to construction. His favorite jobs are in carpentry (which he’s actually really good at), he likes building things that will last.

Casual!Toji, that has a devious smirk on his face as he eggs drunkards on in the middle of the day so he can watch free WWE fights. Even going as far betting money on who’s gonna win and winning $100.

Casual!Toji loved going to new bars and trying out new alcohol and food, you even created an account where you tweet, word for word, his criticism of the bar, the good and bad. The account has about 2000 dedicated followers. It’s cute.

The older man has to work out, whether it be in the house, the backyard or the gym. He knew his way around a gym, could be a trainer if he could tolerate training someone. He needed to keep his body fit, for any type of job he had, for himself and to keep up the libido. You’d suggested working out too, and got a strict ‘No.’ why? “I love seein my girl pass out after being fucked out ‘f her mind.”

Casual!Toji, who is a loving dog dad of two large English Dobermans. His big boy, Hobi named after Hobie Brown (yes named after Spider-Man, I think Toji would be a big fan actually, especially of Andrew Garfield’s, he definitely has a few figurines around the house. Along with the Spider-Man plush that Hobi keeps in his mouth). And then his baby girl, Rina who has a green collar with a little white bow and always ready to play. Both of them are incredibly well trained (and can attack) thanks to Toji training them.

When he’s out of a job, Casual!Toji wakes up in the middle of the day, then spends the last hours of day right at the horse track. Betting on whatever horse is in the seventh lane because ‘lucky 7 always wins’. Sometimes he wins some extra cash, on a great day he’s at the bar with Shiu and celebrating with strangers. Drunk dialing you, “ ‘M gonna buy you whaaatever you want mama. Want a new bag, I’ll buy it for ya!’ ‘Toj, it’s 2 am.’ a pause. Silence. ‘ ‘Nd yer sleepin without me? Where the hell are you woman?’

Casual!Toji, that has a devious smirk on his face as he eggs drunkards on in the middle of the day so he can watch free WWE fights. Even going as far betting money on who’s gonna win and winning $100. He can be an ass.

He can act like such an old man sometimes, grumbling up a storm if he’s pissed off. Forgetting all the time. Or taking a nap anywhere he felt suit in the middle of the day. And of course, if Casual!Toji was napping he’d have you right there in his arms telling you to ‘go the hell to sleep.’ You two were on a joint schedule.

Casual!Toji isn’t a chain smoker, but he needs at least one throughout the day. Whether it be on the back porch, while he’s making a quick trip to the confer store, in the bathtub or right before he joins you for a nap on the couch.

Loved bickering with you, loved seeing you get flustered or annoyed, your eyebrows knitting together and saying some bullshit from your pretty fucking lips. Casual!Toji couldn’t help that stupid smirk that would form on his face and you’d get more pissed. You were so fuckin adorable to him.

He didn’t expect to want you so badly, you were adamant on just staying fuck buddies, but the green eyed monster slithered into your life. If you didn’t want him, Casual!Toji would fuck your brains out until you had to stay over. And suddenly, you’re feeding the dogs while he’s making breakfast. Your doing the laundry together, going on lunch dates, coming back to his place after work—

When the hell did that happen?

Of course he has tattoos, a large black, grey and red back piece to be exact of a dragon. He had some other tattoos around his body too, angel wings right behind his ear for his deceased wife. He’d get one for you as soon as he put a rock on your finger.

Casual!Toji knows you hate when he takes “jobs”, you never know if he’s going to end up completely beat up, or without a scratch. Or worse, not coming back at all. But he needed the money. It was for reassurance, stabilizing your joint future. He didn’t want you to worry about money with him, he’d provide for you, even if he died. You hated when he talked like that, you’d leaving for a couple days. Maybe a week. And he’d be right there in front of your apartment once his gut told him to got see you, food in hand, going back to your usual routine. He understood your anger, the worry. But he couldn’t comfort you properly because he wouldn’t quit. Only thing he could do is stay by your side.

You’d been forced to learn how to sew up a bullet hole or stab wound (with the help of delirious Toji barking at you to get it right the first time), knew how to clean up blood that would stain the floors, calm the dogs as they barked for their owner to get proper help, and knew above all else the silence that would fill the house once you finished playing surgeon. Toji’s soft shallow breaths filling the air, chest rising and falling slowly. And you’d sit and keep watch. As if you were stronger than him, like you could protect him from all the bullshit that he’d just endured.

You thought of leaving once or twice.

But it led you to dead ends. You loved Toji. Toji loved you. And no matter how many times Toji told you. Baring himself naked before you, giving you everything, and I mean everything, he had, no matter how you looked at it; you were each other’s life lines. There was no one without the other. Soulmates. So you’d sit, for hours upon hours, making sure he was alright. Padding away the sweat that would build up on his forehead as he slept. Until you felt his large calloused hand stoking the curly baby hairs at the back of your neck. “Come on baby, go to sleep.”

And you did.

The man wasn’t a fan of music. Hed listen to whatever you put on and enjoy it. He’d listen as you rambled your pretty little head off about your favorite artists, even memorizing the songs you had on constant replay. But Casual!Toji loved listening to The Smiths, Mac DeMarco, Tame Impala, Nirvana, Frank Ocean, Brent Faiyez, and Najabes. He’d tickle underneath your chin as he’s sing along, ‘Now your lost, lost in the heat of it all.’

Casual!Toji who isn’t a dirty bastard. He loves taking a shower and a bath with you after a long day of work, even going to the public bathhouse so ease his mind. He made it his mission to book a private onsen with you during the holidays because he knew that was really the only time you had off during the year.

Prefers to do things together. Laundry, cooking, errand runs, watching whatever you watched— had to be in your vicinity like Clifford the big red dog.

Casual!Toji who has to fuck you atleast twice a week, whether he has your pretty wet cunt in his mouth, your hand softly squeezing his cock as you rubbed him off, your face pressed against the bathroom tile as he drills into you from behind or he’s fucking you right against the kitchen table right before you two had dinner.

Casual!Toji who doesn’t mind cursing you out no matter where you are. Unless he’s already told you once, he won’t hold his tongue when he needs to correct you. “watch your fuckin mouth.” “ ‘nd who the fuck are you talkin to?” “keep it up.” “You never shut the fuck up, do you Doll?”

Despite your playful bickering and your real arguments, he’s learned to properly communicate. Even if he has to write it down, he wants to get through to you. Casual!Toji wants to be better for you. He wants to be the best man for you and your future kids.

Casual!Toji, who doesn’t understand why it takes so long to do your hair but keeps his mouth shut about it because he’d rather not piss you off when your already annoyed to no end. He’ll go back and forth between the bedroom to the living room. Watching as you angled your head a certain way to detangle and style your hair. Then going back to the living room to watch whatever reality show that was on. When you were finished and cleaned up, you’d come and throw yourself on Toji. Who’d only acknowledge you with the grunt.

Then he’d place his hand at the back of your neck, gently rubbing it with a thumb. Giving you a much needed praise after all your hard work. “Good job baby.”

Casual!Toji, who loves Westerns. John Wayne, Django, Magnificent Seven— you name it. He’s watched it. There are even some cowboy posters and cowboy dog toys laying around. Also liked watching Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. He caught you watching it alone and got hooked.

The man stays in sweatshirts, gym shorts, sweatpants, wife beaters, plain t-shirts, leather jackets, black jeans sweatpants or a yukata. No in between. You had to beg him to add a few graphic tee’s to his attire. There’s a singular black suit that’s too small in the very back of his closet with a matching pair of wedding rings that were once used by Casual!Toji.

On the shelf above it is a pink tattered shoe box. A few pictures of Toji, ones of him smiling like an idiot, a few of a beautiful woman with short black hair with some silly faces, one or two marriage photos, a handkerchief, an old shirt, and a death certificate. It dropped on your head one day, right as you two were about to bathe for the night. Toji found you on the floor, hurriedly trying to put everything back in the box. But he’d simply bent down, neatly folding the shirt and the handkerchief, putting it in its place. And then reached for one of their marriage photos and turned it towards you.

“She was real nice. Kinda stupid, like you. But real nice.”

It was odd, seeing Toji so- so melancholy. He’d put the box back, grabbed the pack of cigarettes that was on the night stand and headed towards the connecting bathroom. You could hear some shuffling, the bath water running, and then he called out,

“Come on Doll.”

A silent Toji was never a good one.

Least, that’s what you had made up in your mind.

Toji’s head was in the clouds, the shower was quiet, the bath was quiet, something by Radiohead played softly from the speaker. The pitter patter. squishing of moving water, the crackling of Toji’s cigarette dancing between his lips and his fingers.

You shoved yourself at the end of the tub, pulling your knees to your chin— almost trying to hide yourself.

“Sorry.” You squeaked out. You felt as if something was on your shoulders, weighing you down. Maybe you were trying to compensate for the silence.

Toji cracked his neck, head falling back as he took another drag of the cigarette, “What are you apologizing for?”

He scuffed, how tense things had gotten annoyed him. Memories of his deceased wife annoyed him too, but he learned to live with the loss. Learned that everyone else moved on while he was left stranded, forced to find his own way to continue living. Years had passed, and you coincidentally fell into his lap, right in the middle of purgatory. And you created a little heaven despite your pasts.

“And why are you over there, come ‘ere. Practically burned holes in tuh me all night” His voice was gruff, his green eyes finally meeting your brown ones, but he was motioning you over.

You hesitated, before you could try to find another out, Toji pulled you by his arm. Settling you in between his legs, your back to his chest. Just like you were supposed to be.

Toji wasn’t one for serious words, not in situations like this. But he held you close, trailing his fingers from from your shoulder blades, down your arm to your hand. Taking his large hand in your smaller one and bringing it to his lips.

“I love you, you know?”

On days when it pours and pour rain, or when the snow meets your calfs— Toji is right on the porch, in his dark blue yukata that’s half open showing his chest, despite the cold, cigarette in between his pink lips, journal in hand and writing away. Who knows what he writes in there. It could be essays or simple notes and you wouldn’t know. You just knew it’s best to leave him alone to his thoughts when he’s like that. And when he’s done, which could be in 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 2 hours— there’d be hot tea waiting for him, two dogs who wanted head pats and a woman ready to give him as much love as he wanted.

[zmediaoutlet]

was scrolling through your tags and saw "i wonder if he and dean argue abt gas money" and i feel like dean is in charge of their finances. like maybe there's more to be said about that topic like winchester money or lack there of, that maybe you have opinions about? i'd love to hear them.

love your writing, btw ❤️

Dean is definitely in charge of their finances, altho what "finances" means in the era of "we know how to hack credit agencies" is a little fuzzy. (Someone pointed out a laptop screenshot where Dean emails Sam and says that Sam "owes him gas money", which is both a) endearingly dumb and in character, and also b) YOU SHARE MONEY, DORK. THERE IS NO MONEY. [Dean: "It's the principle!" me: I repeat, dork.])

Winchester money is an interesting one! In the way-way back there was this big sprawly meta conversation about their interaction with class that really went all over the place, but what's interesting about it to me is that they are no-collar while coding blue-collar middle class. Like the old middle class, of limited debt and home ownership but still being on a modest salary and with modest tastes. Maybe a vacation once a year, etc. Not that that was their exact situation, but it's the social bracket they occupy. Note that Sam was desperate to get into the white-collar strata and really tried hard to play at that, especially in s1, but like a lot of the jumped-up masses he was more bougie nouveau riche than actually part of that set -- note how he couldn't order a glass of wine in Provenance (which happens to be one of my most hated scenes in the whole series, but that's not Sam's fault, lol). He makes fun of Dean's blue-to-no-collar tendencies but he's irrevocably part of them, and luckily he grows up mentally enough over the first few years that we don't get as much of that college kid crap, just home from school and making fun of Mom's casserole for not being what the kids in the city think is cool. You like the casserole, kid. Stop fronting.

But Winchesters-and-money really takes on a whole other valence because they're free of it. Like obviously in latter years once the credit cards get perfect (I guess that's as of the introduction of Frank and/or Charlie) it means nothing, and I'm glad of that bc we actually don't need to think about it, it's a solved problem. But when they're younger, there's the literal in-the-moment needs of food/gas money/clothes/where are we gonna sleep tonight, and they're very hand-to-mouth. But the way they're hand to mouth is like... fine. They don't have to worry about a mortgage. The Impala certainly does not have insurance, and neither do they have health insurance. There is no retirement account and there are no debt collectors knocking. They're free of the credit/financial system in a way almost no one else is, because they're also completely free to steal and pirate their way through life. Not least because it's the moral choice inside the textual universe -- they have to be free to save the day, so who cares if they're fucking over some random person's credit history.

It does a really interesting thing to their characterization. They're not stuck in the backbreaking poverty of e.g. the characters in Shameless. They aren't struggling to pay bills because they don't have bills. There's in-the-moment urgency but once that moment has passed and there's food in their bellies and gas in the car and Sam's got a new pair of shoes without a hole -- they don't really have to think about it the way most would. It's almost more of an aesthetic than it is a foundational shaping. That said, you do have to solve those moments as they come because there's no savings cushion, either, so either you get the new cards from the PO box or you figure out how to scam someone or you, you know. Do whatever else Dean might've done, to make sure there was food on the table.

[angelic-waffles]

I’m powered by Dan Dan noodles and a childlike sense of whimsy, my second Lord of the Flies oc Brick!

Unlike Angie, he was actually specifically created for Lord of the Flies! More info on him under the cut

Pre crash- Brick lived a very normal life pre crash. Almost to a boring degree. His parents weren’t particularly rich, nor were they struggling for money. His father wasn’t a military man, his mother not a radio host, but they were good parents. If not a touch over protective. He was born with albinism and because of this his parents were always wary of him going outside, whether that be due to bullying, his easy to burn skin, his poor eye sight, or all the above. Because of this he was quite a sensitive little boy. Too scared of sports and not particularly interested in any activity, he made do without many friends.

Post crash- (this is the part where Micheal starts writing in past tense but was too lazy to edit it. Just know this is supposed to be current) And then it all went to shit. Yes unlike Angie, Brick does not do well on the island. His first problem would come before alliances even became an issue. He needed to find shade. Not for comfort or rest, but to live. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box but he’s smart enough to know beating sun and no melanin means you’re screwed. So with that and his visual impairments, he resigned himself to the more forested areas, and later the settlements. Sadly for him, he didn’t do much better at forming bonds with the other boys. His naturally panicked demeanor lead him to follow Ralph, but much to everyone in Ralph’s groups chagrin, his inability to be outside in the sun meant he could only really watch the fire at night, if that. He didn’t make many allies on the island, he cried a lot and was too nervous to reach out and talk to anyone first leading to him simply not talking for the most part. His only solace was the fact he became viewed as an object of pity. Maybe Ralph’s crew didn’t think he was useful, but he was a fellow kid stuck on the island, and for that matter a kid who couldn’t help himself like everyone else could.

General info- Brick is 11 and a half, German with albinism, and uses he/him. When it comes to his personality, he’s a hard person to get behind. He’s got insane anxiety, so much so that if you saw him in a parking lot you’d assume he’s on drugs. It’s beyond just the usual ideas of the disorder, rather an all consuming fear of the world and things around him, likely from his sheltered upbringing. He’s almost like a baby in that way, everything is new and terrifying to him all the time and it practically paralyzes him sometimes. He’s also rather sensitive. Brick cries at a lot of things. When he’s happy, or sad, or angry, or excited, his tears just start flowing. He’s definitely a kid who was called a pansy among other things. But despite his anxiety, he’s rather curious by nature. He’s not super smart but he loves learning new things and would listen to you talk about any topic for hours and still be interested. His sense of morality is also pretty strong. He’s seen cruelty from other kids and he knows how it hurts. He’s not a strong person, physically or in will, but he’ll do whatever he can to help people, even if it’s just crying with you. Overall Brick is really childlike. Well obviously he’s 11 but he acts almost younger than he is, especially with his sense of wonder in learning things and his many fears. I don’t actually have a character comparison for him oop

Don’t actually have any bonus content to thank you for reading all this so I’ve just gotta say thanks for staying

[amethystjewel01]

Yuuna Union Jacket Birthday!

Yet another birthday in a different world, how exciting!

Voice Lines

Summon Line: Hehe! This one is gonna be so fun! Especially since I’ve gotten even closer to everyone!

Groovy!: Aw man! It got in my hair! Hey, don't laugh!!

Home: Yo, this jacket is really comfy. Think they would let me wear it for more than a day?

Home Idle 1: Yuuto somehow got me a really nice box to hold my earrings in! I wonder where he gets all that money?

Home Idle 2: While I’m glad everyone is so kind to give me stuff, the amount can be overwhelming. Makes me worried if I can bring it all back home…

Home Idle 3: I kind of feel bad that Yuuto and Yuuki did all the decorating, though it was mainly Yuuto with his magic…still I could've helped!

Home Idle [Login]: Hey hey hey! Come join the celebration! Ya I know it’s for me but I want everyone to have fun!

Home Idle [Groovy]: Ace is so mean~ He did not have to grab me like that and shove the tin in my face! 

Home Tap 1: Yuuki kept trying to keep Grim at bay with all the whip cream flying around, I guess she’s worried he might be lactose intolerant like a normal cat. It was funny to see though!

Home Tap 2: Professor Crewel surprisingly gave me some clothes he designed himself. Said something about how my typical hair color combo inspired him for a short period?? I don't know honestly, though they are super cute!

Home Tap 3: Hopefully the cleanup will be easy..hm? Yeah of course I’m gonna help, I am the dorm leader. Being the birthday boy be damn!

Home Tap 4: The light music club gifted me a karaoke machine, guess I was singing more often in public than I thought…that’s embarrassing.

Home Tap 5: Mmm…oh! Yeah I’m okay! Just disassociating a bit. The noise is just a little bit overwhelming, no one’s fault!

Home Tap [Groovy]: Ugh, the cream got everywhere. *lick* Mmm! Still tastes good though!

Duo: 

Yuuna: Look who decided to join!

Ace: Oi! Just because you're the birthday girl doesn’t mean I’ll let you go easy!

Personal Story

Part 1

(Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue)

Yuuna: Oh I hope the dice chose someone I'm close with. I'm not good with people I don't know…

???: Boo!

Yuuna: AHH!

Smack!

Ace: Ow! You didn't have to hit me!

Yuuna: Ace you!! Don't scare me! You almost gave me a heart attack!

Ace: Yeesh, sorry. All three of you can't take a small scare.

(Yuuna glares at Ace silently.)

Ace: Anyway-

Ace: Here's the gift I got you!

Yuuna: Oh! You really didn't have to!

Ace: Nah, I wanted to. Besides if I didn't I'm sure the gang would get on my ass.

Ace: But either way, open it already!

Yuuna: Okay okay! Let's see…eh? Is…Is this-

Ace: It's a new binder, yeah.

(Ace looks away awkwardly.)

Ace: You kept complaining about how you only had one since coming to this world so…me and some others came together to get you another one.

Ace: But I gotta ask why the hell are they so expensive?!

Yuuna: Haha! Thank you thank you!! 

(Yuuna hugs Ace tightly.)

Yuuna: This one looks so comfortable too! And it has a zipper! My old one doesn't! This one will be so much easier to put on too!

Ace: Great, it was really awkward when trying to ask others what was best…

Part 2

(Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue)

Ace: Alright! Let's move on to the interview!

Ace: If you could choose anyone in NRC as a sibling, who?

Yuuna: Well Yu-

Ace: Ah no! You can't pick someone from your dorm!

Yuuna: Boo~

Yuuna: Okay uh…I guess I would pick you?

Ace: …huh?

Yuuna: I mean you act the most like my older brother actually so it wouldn't be too different for me

Ace: Pick someone else then?! It's for you to choose who you want, not choose who's the most like your actual siblings!

Yuuna: Geez okay! Then…Ortho, definitely Ortho.

Ace: You know that's the least surprising pick, you already treat him like a sibling.

Yuuna: How could I not?! He's adorable! It makes me want to spoil him a lot!

Ace: Would he even get along with your other siblings?

Yuuna: Duh! The little one would have lots of fun with him! Though the possible chaos worries me.

Ace: What, you think they would cause a lot of destruction?

Yuuna: Oh, I know they would.

Part 3

(Ramshackle Dorm - Birthday Party Venue)

Ace: Next question!

Ace: What dorm would you transfer to? Actually do I need to ask? Of course you would pick Heartslabyul!

Yuuna: …now I wanna pick Pomefiore to spite you.

Ace: Aw come on! Don't lie, almost everyone can tell how you love our aesthetic!

Yuuna: *Sigh* Okay fine, yes it would be Hearts.

Yuuna: But Pome is a close second solely for the fact that the rules part of your dorm is overwhelming.

Ace: Fair, they’re really annoying. Ah-Don’t tell Riddle I said that.

Yuuna: Heh, my lips are sealed.

Yuuna: But yeah. As much as I like following the rules, I have my own limits. I mean in my own opinion rules are mainly meant to help people, not restrict them.

Ace: Is that why Pomefiore would be your second choice?

Yuuna: Sort of? It’s mainly because I’ve been told I fit in there a lot.

Ace: Who said that?

Yuuna: Just a bunch of randos, actually before they realize I’m the Ramshackle dorm leader many assumed I was a Pome member. I don’t get it honestly, I’m not like pretty like them??

Ace: Uh…

Yuuna: Sorry, was getting too honest there! Haha!

Ace: Well…that’s all the questions.

Yuuna: Oh-...oh no

Ace: Can't forget the best part~

Yuuna: C-Can't we just skip this? I-I JUST DID MY HAIR!

(Yuuna runs away.)

Ace: HEY GET BACK HERE!!

(The sound of something being thrown is heard.)

The End