#bartista shop

[waggermama]

My set up for February in my journal. The candle is for my Grandma Joan, who would have been 108 on the 1st.

Stickers and art by (in no particular order), @petite-gloom Sterling Ink, Flying Tiger and Bartista on Etsy

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Adam Stanheight x Roomate Reader

A/N: IT DELETED ALL MY WRITING I'M SO PISSED OMG! It's fine... I'm fine... I'm totally fine :DDD

Pronouns for reader: They/Them

Relationship type: Platonic and/or romantic feelings (up to interpretation of reader)

General Idea: Adam and his roommate were in a pretty chill spot, but when his roommate comes home and Adam isn't there, they'll stop at nothing to get him home.

Content Warnings: It's an angsty one, chat... but there's some fluff at the end 🥹👍, swearing, probably cringe, no use of Y/N, reader's a bartista because I said so. MAJOR PLOT HOLE, but womp womp at least Adam's alive... also because I said so.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

(Nobody's POV)

Headphones on their head blaring music way too loud, our main character fumbles around for their apartment keys in their pocket. They finally open the door, greeted by pure darkness. Which was odd, but didn't worry them too much.

"Adam, I'm home." They say, tossing the keys in a little bowl next to the door. They hang their coat up and laugh softly. "You will NOT believe the day I've had."

Nothing but silence followed. Only the sound of someone walking by the door and the sound of the environment surrounding the apartment. "Adam?" They call out, a little louder this time. "Maybe he's just in the red room listening to music?" They think aloud, walking towards the red room... which was dark. They turn the light on momentarily to see if Adam was in there, possibly asleep.

Empty.

"Huh..." They say, turning the light off. They wander the apartment, checking every room, finally checking Adam's room. When it's empty, they decide to call Adam. Voicemail.

"Adam?" They say. "Hey, um... where are you exactly? Call me back?". They set their phone down. Maybe he's just at Scott's place? Yeah... that's it. They sit down on the couch, their chest filling with anxiety. They do their very best to shove it down and just try to go to sleep.

They debate on calling Scott a few times, to just see if Adam's with him. They have to remind themself that Adam is indeed an adult, it's not like he has curfew or any shit like that. He could stay out all night if he wanted to.

But that still doesn't stop them from feeling like something wasn't right. Adam normally always told them if he was gonna be late coming home or when he and Scott were going out for a guys night or whatever they did. Something felt VERY off.

They shake the worry out of their head. They're probably worrying about nothing. Again, Adam was a grown man. He didn't need to check in with them like he was a kid.

The next morning they wake up and instantly look around for Adam. When he's still nowhere to be seen, they bite the bullet and call Scott Tibbs. They weren't exactly Scott's biggest fan, but they were starting to really worry.

It took a few tries, but the phone rings for a moment, and soon, the groggy voice of Scott is heard. "This better be good, man." He grumbles with a strong case of morning grog. "If you're gonna spam call my phone the world better be on fucking fire."

"Scott, hey man sorry to wake you." They say, pacing the room. "But is Adam there with you?"

"Uh no... why?" Scott says.

"Cuz he wasn't home when I got here, and he's still not here." They say, wiggling into their work uniform. They made a mental note that they needed to get into jeans with two hands next time. "And I'm starting to get worried."

"Relax, he probably got laid at some chick's house." Scott says.

"He would've told me though." They say, grabbing their keys. "He would've called me, or at least swung by the coffee shop."

"You might just be worrying too much." Scott says. "Just relax, yeah? You're starting to sound worse than his mom."

They blush a little bit in embarrassment, and sigh. "I hope you're right." They say.

They try and call Adam again. Voicemail. Again. "Hey Adam, seriously, where are you? I'm starting to get worried." They say. "Please call me, or swing by the shop, or both at this point. You're starting to freak me out." They say, chuckling softly before they hang up and go to work.

When they come home, it's around noon. They walk into the two's shared apartment and... still no Adam. They call Adam again. Voicemail. "Adam? Seriously, this isn't funny. I don't know what game you're playing right now, but if you're not home by tonight, I'm filing a missing persons case." They hang up the phone and flop down onto the couch, filled with pure worry.

"Holy shit, is this what my parents felt like when I snuck out?" They say to themself, sighing. "Remind me to never have kids then."

Once the sun set over the horizon, they still sat in the same spot on the couch. Sometimes drifting in and out of light sleep, sometimes watching a show, sometimes just counting the infinite dots on the ceiling. Either way, they sat there hoping that Adam'd waltz through the door with his stupid little grin and camera, yapping excitedly about the photos he took that day.

But no sign of Adam. Not even a trace of him. They sigh, picking up their phone.

"Hello? I'd like to report a missing person."

It'd been almost 4 days since they'd filed the missing persons case for Adam. Every day, they found themself at the police station, asking for any sign of their roommate. And every day they'd get the same awnser, that the police couldn't give them that information... and even if the police could... they don't have anything to report.

Then they'd go home. It was so weird not having Adam home. The apartment almost lost the lingering smell of cigarettes. That worried them almost as much as Adam being missing. environment.

They hated the smell of cigarettes. They'd always tell Adam to stop smoking those dreadful things. But now they'd give their right leg to see Adam standing by the window, smoke rolling off his lips and out the window. The lack of cigarette smell? That meant that the last little bits of Adam were slowly fading from the apartment.

And that scared them more than anything. What if Adam wasn't coming home? No. They couldn't think like that. Adam WAS coming home. Any minute now, he'd burst through the door. Any minute now, he'd flop down on the couch next to them and they'd both watch some shitty horror movie together.

"Adam?" They say through their phone, leaving yet another message on Adam's voicemail. Their voice is small, cracking, on the verge of tears even. "Adam, come home... please?" Tears prickle their eyes, blurring their vision. "I miss you... so much."

"The apartment feels weird without you in it." They talk to the voicemail as if it's Adam in the apartment next to them. "I don't have anyone to scold about smoking." They chuckle sadly. "Work was alright... I couldn't focus on it though... I... I guess I haven't been able to focus on anything more than you lately."

"I hope you're okay. Wherever you are." They say. "I do care about you, contrary to Tibb's belief. I just -" They sigh. "Just come home in one piece, okay? I miss you. A lot. More than I'd like to admit." A tear rolls down their face as they hang up. The few tears turn into a large stream, staining their cheeks. They wept for their roommate, they wept for their very best friend, and they wept for the man they loved.

That's when they heard it. A knock on the door. They freeze. Where they just hearing things? Then there it was again: another knock.

"Adam?" They say through tears, bolting up and scrambling to the door, not caring about their tear stained face. They put their hand on the cool handle and yank the door open, almost hitting themself by accident. They look up at who was there.

The sight of their roommate, though bloody and disheveled, brought them to both tears of fear and of joy. Adam stood at the doorway, shaking slightly, shirt no longer the white it originally was; but covered in filth and blood, and things his roommate was afraid to know about.

"I-I'm back." Adam says, smiling softly. His roommate, despite wanting to smack him as hard as they could... then wrap him in a bear hug. They force themself to simply grab his hand and sit him down on the couch. They run into his room and grab another shirt for him.

"Thanks..." He mumbles, switching his shirts out. They sit next to him, keeping their hand on his. But, much to the bartista's surprise, Adam tackles them into a bear hug, nuzzling his head into the crook of their neck. His tears slowly started to soak their shirt as the two both cried in eachothers arms. Not nessicarily out of woe or sadness, but out of thankfulness. Adam had always been thankful for his roommate, but now he'd never been more thankful to see their face.

The two stayed silent, just holding each other. The only words they spoke were through their actions. They could talk in the morning, or for the rest of their lives if they wanted. For now? All they wanted was the embrace of the other. And that's what they'd do. Adam didn't know what would happen in the next hour, or even the next 48 hours. But he knew one thing: he'd be alright. With the person he loved by his side. Which sounded cringe as he thought it, but he didn't give two shits. He was left in a bathroom for days.... let the boy be mushy, yeah?

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

A/N: Aaaaaah! I love Adam sm. I just want to put him in my pocket. This is the first Saw fanfic I've successfully written to the end (Saw is just a hard universe for me to write in apparently?) But I enjoy it sm.

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[garbage-empress]

at an upscale coffee shop: bartista help i can't grippy my sippy

[lu-undy]

Coffee shop AU? Where Lu works as a bartista and Mundy visits that specific shop religiously just to get a glimpse of Lu. They talked a few times before, so one day Mundy decides to try and ask him out, but Lu being so observant already knew and requited his feelings. They have a lil' date right after ^^

Here we go for coffee shop AU :D !

"Ugh… What a mornin'…"

It had been Mundy's first day at his new job and he already felt overwhelmed. It wasn't the job itself that was causing his headache, but the number of people surrounding him. Despite having an office job where the telephone barely rang, his colleagues had turned out to compensate with a lot of chats here and there. 

Mundy much preferred working undisturbed, with a bit of music or radio, but no other human to answer to. Each time he had to raise his head to answer whoever entered his office, he felt annoyed as they cut his pace and task always at an odd time. 

But his shift was done and now, Mundy was after some peace and maybe some paracetamol. 

He walked along the streets when a small shop caught his attention. It was relatively new in town and it had to be the smallest coffee shop he had ever seen. However, it looked fantastically modern and very nicely decorated. Mundy's eyes lingered inside and realised there was no one. He read the name of the shop, written in black cursive letters: Chez Lucien. 

[At Lucien's.]

Mundy passed the shop and went straight back home. 

Time passed and the days flew. Mundy had managed to work only morning shifts which he noticed were usually a bit more calm in terms of the number of people bothering him. It proved to make him all the more efficient. That end of the morning, as he passed in front of the coffee shop, he decided he could do with a well earned cup. 

He pushed the door and a gentle jingle tickled his ears before the faint accordion music did. The shop was as small as it looked from the outside and as Mundy scanned the inside, there was no one else. He sat at the counter and waited when a man appeared. 

He looked older than Mundy as his salt and pepper temples and front lock of hair betrayed his age. He was wearing a white shirt and Burgundy vest and trousers. On top of them was a black apron with the name of the shop in cursive white letters. 

"Good morning."

"Hey there, uh, can I get a black coffee please?" 

"If you were to get it, then I should give you my apron." The coffee shop worker answered with a smile. 

"What?" Mundy raised a confused and surprised eyebrow as the man had spoken with a foreign accent.

"My apologies, it was only a joke. What you mean is 'May I have a coffee please?', not 'Can I get a coffee please?'. What kind?" 

Mundy was still confused but he answered. 

"B-black, no sugar, and large please." 

"But of course. What blend of beans would suit you best? You have the selection of the month on the menu in front of you."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. It was the first time he was asked about that…

"I will let you choose. Just call for me whenever you are ready." 

"Okay…" 

The waiter disappeared in the back while Mundy studied the menu. There were a dozen or so blends of beans with their origins and a description associated with each one. It took him a couple minutes to go through all of them but in the end, he was still clueless…

"S'cuse me?" 

After a few footsteps, the man with the salt and pepper hair re-appeared. 

"Oui? You have made your mind I suppose?" 

"Uh, not really…"

"May I help?" 

There was something inviting in those very light blue eyes of his that made Mundy yield, where he would have normally just refused and exited the place. 

"Yeah, please."

"What mood are you in right now? Are you looking to get some strength to bite in the day or…?"

"N-no actually I've just come out of work and wanted to relax a bit." 

"Ah, then I know what you just need. Do you trust me?" 

Mundy flicked his eyes from the menu up to the man's eyes. 

"Yeah, go ahead."

The coffee shop waiter got to work as he talked. 

"Thank you."

"No worries."

"And sorry if I come across as a bit… different." He added. 

Mundy smiled to himself. People used to call him different too. 

"You see, the mistakes you made while asking me for a coffee are very common and come from how Americans have spread their mistakes through their cultural influence. If you were to 'get' a coffee, that originally means that you make it, as opposed to receiving it from someone else. As for the second mistake, it is very very common too. People tend to forget the difference between 'can' and 'may'." 

Mundy stared at the busy man. 

"But enough with my grammar lesson when I can barely speak your language." He turned to face Mundy. "Here is your coffee, bon appétit." 

"Uh, 'scuse me?" 

"Oui?" 

[Yes?]

"Can I smoke here? I mean…" Mundy thought again.  "May I smoke here?" 

The man in the apron smiled. 

"I see you learn fast. Oui, you may smoke." He answered before disappearing through the back door.

Mundy was left to enjoy his coffee and cigarette in the small shop, accompanied by the faint radio tune that was broadcasting some accordion, and surrounded by no other living soul than those of the plants around him. He liked it in there. It was peaceful and the right volume of ambient noise. 

He took the first sip of his coffee and nodded to himself. It was good, very good. It almost tasted sweet despite it not having a single gram of sugar. The warmth of it soothed him too and his shoulders sank as he relaxed. Yes, the man was right, it was just what he had needed. 

And it became a habit. Every other day, Mundy would stop on his way back home to have a cup of coffee at that odd, off-brand little coffee shop. There were more clients too but it was mostly to have a take away.

"So, uh, what's your name?" Mundy asked.

"The one written on the front window." 

"Lucien?" 

"Oui." Lucien nodded with a smile. "And your pronunciation is quite good."

"Oh, how d'you say it?"

"Lucien." Lucien said it a bit slower. 

"Lucien?"

"Oui! You have it!"

"Ah, nice."

"What's yours?"

"Mundy." 

"Exotic."

"So is yours." Mundy answered and they exchanged a smile. "So you're Italian or something?" 

"Non, I am French." 

"Oh, explains the music…" Mundy said and Lucien chuckled. "I didn't know the French were big on their coffee." 

"Almost as much as the British are on their tea but we failed to market it as well as the Italians." Lucien answered, wiping the counter clean.

They were alone in the shop for a while. Lucien noticed that Mundy came more frequently and stayed longer. If at first he would leave him to drink his coffee alone, he wanted to have a chat and know more about his first regular client. 

"Do you work only in the mornings?" 

"Yeah, better that way."

"Lucky you."

Mundy raised his eyes. 

"Although to be honest I don't have many people coming into my shop. If I closed the afternoons, it wouldn't make a big difference. It has been a few months that I have started this business but I haven't met the success that I had expected."

The Aussie heard the disappointment in Lucien's voice.

"You thought you'd have a lot more clients?"

"Not a lot. I don't want a lot of people. I don't want people to order coffee from me if they don't know how to savour and appreciate it down to its nuances. But I had hoped that a few connaisseurs would be attracted."

"Ah sorry mate… You should have gone to the posh district. They'd love it." Mundy thought about some of his work colleagues who came from there. And he had an idea. 

"D'you work tomorrow, Lucien?"

"Oui, I do."

"Right, you might have more people coming."

"I hope so." 

Lucien thought it was only words of encouragement but Mundy had meant it otherwise. The next day, a lot more people showed up. Lucien was almost overwhelmed, the number of clients grew to a point where he really felt the weight at rush hour in the morning in particular. 

"Bonjour Mundy, the usual?" 

"Yeah, I wouldn't be against something a bit stronger, y'know, to go with the weather." 

Lucien's eyes went to the front window and indeed the sun was beaming beautifully.

"Fine, give me only an instant." 

"You're the boss!" Mundy answered and he watched as Lucien started the preparation of his coffee. 

They had a routine now. Mundy's usual was whatever Lucien chose for him. He would come in, tell his friend about his state of mind and Lucien never failed to nail the best of coffee blends for him. 

"How come you always know what coffee to make when I tell you how I feel?" He asked. 

"Ah, experience, mon ami." Lucien answered. "Experience and a bit of empathy I suppose. Here, enjoy." 

[My friend]

Mundy took the cup and a sip. 

"Oh, that's a fruity one… It's almost as if you mixed some fruits in there!" 

"Experience, empathy, and your exceptional sense of taste too." Lucien answered. 

Mundy raised his eyes and blushed when his gaze crossed the Frenchman's. 

"I wouldn't be able to give you the coffee you need if you weren't able to appreciate it." 

"I-I guess, yeah." 

Their chat was interrupted when a lady entered. 

"Bonjour Madame, how may I help?"

"Mundy?" She started and the Aussie turned to face her.

"Oh, Emma, hey, finished early today?" He recognised her from work. 

"No, silly, it's already five in the afternoon. You daydream too much!" She joked and his eyes snapped to the size of planets. 

Already five?! He had been there for hours without realising it!

"Uh, can I get your fruity mix, with one sugar please."

"As a take-away?" Lucien guessed at how she seemed in a rush. 

"Yeah, please, and make it large too." 

"Très bien."

[Very well.]

Lucien got busy but his ears were still on Mundy and Emma's conversation. 

"What are you doing here in a coffee shop on your own, M?"

"I, uh…" Mundy did not know what he was doing there and why he had stayed so long… But something came to his mind. "Actually it's wrong."

"What?" Emma asked. 

"What you said, it's wrong. You shouldn't say 'can I get you fruity mix', but 'may I have your fruity mix'."

Lucien, who had his back to them, stopped sharp. 

"What are you on about?" Emma chuckled. 

"Think about it! When you get some coffee, that means you make it, not that you receive it." 

"Pfff, you're a weirdo, M…" She chuckled.

Lucien turned and put the cup on the counter. Emma paid for it and left, leaving Mundy and Lucien alone, at the counter. 

"I…" Lucien started. "You remembered what I had said about the grammar?" 

"It makes sense." Mundy answered. 

"I am sorry that your friend does not see it that way." 

"Bah, none of them do." Mundy answered, lowering his head to his cup. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I… I've never been good with people. I've never had many friends. I'm just awkward and most of the time, they say exactly what she did: I'm a weirdo."

Lucien heard the slight distress.

"You have me. I am your friend." 

Mundy raised his eyes. 

"And I am sure that you thought I was a weirdo when we first met." Lucien added. "I saw it on your face." 

"Nah, you're not-"

"No need to try and lie to me." Lucien chuckled. "I read you like an open book, as we say in French."

"Lucien?" 

"Oui?" 

"Do you have friends here?" 

Surprise flashed quickly across the Frenchman's face but it disappeared as soon as it had first come.

"Non, no one apart from you. I used to work in France and decided to leave and start a new life with what little money I managed to save throughout my life." 

"Oh… What about family and friends? They're still in France then?" 

"Non, I don't have friends per se and I don't have any family left." 

"Oh, wow… I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Don't be, you or I have nothing to do with it. It just is that way." 

"What was your job before? You were selling coffee too?" 

"Non, I had a different position. But I would rather not talk about any of this too much, if you don't mind." 

"Oh, sorry, yeah, o'course." Mundy realised that he might have struck a nerve with his questions.

"What about you? You said you had no friends, but I refuse to think that such a nice man as you are is lonely.

"Well, thanks, but uh, yeah, I have colleagues at best, but no friends. They all grew up and flew different ways, starting their families a good decade ago at least now." 

"And you haven't?" 

Mundy lowered his head. 

"N-no… Mum and Dad would have loved it for me, but no. I haven't found the right person yet." 

"Fair enough." 

"But you," Mundy raised his head to Lucien, "You're French and classy n'all…" 

The Frenchman chuckled as he turned to start tidying up. The sun was gently setting in the distance. 

"Oui, I have had quite a lot of success before." 

"Before what?" 

"A long time ago." He simply answered and took the dirty cups to the other room behind the shop. He appeared again and saw Mundy staring at him. "I apologise. I am not used to talking about myself." 

"Me neither, mate. But I like listening to you." 

Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy and saw a warm smile. 

"What do you say to continuing this conversation over some dinner?" He suggested to his Aussie friend. 

"O-oh, uh, where?" 

Lucien removed his apron and neatly folded it before storing it in one of the cupboards under the counter. 

"Wherever you want. I haven't tried any place here yet. Would you be so kind as to be my guide?" 

Mundy felt warm and fuzzy. His heart woke up and he could feel his cheeks turn pink.

"Sure, yeah." 

They exited the coffee shop together and soon found themselves in an Italian restaurant. 

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?"

"I must thank you."

"Why?"

"Since the day you hoped for me to get more clients, it is as if God heard you and people started coming. I would see a lot of new faces, some I would see only once. But some would come back from time to time. Your prayer has been more than heard." 

"Ah, well, I just, I just talked about you at work." 

Lucien raised his head off the menu. 

"Really?" Seeing how shy and clumsy had been with Emma, Lucien couldn't imagine how he had talked about his coffee shop to other people. 

"Yeah, I thought it might help."

"And it did, greatly! It is very kind of you, thanks." 

Mundy was delighted to see his friend smile. He even saw a bit of his pearly white teeth. Lucien was handsome… Oh! Mundy shook his head and hid himself behind the menu, one hand clenching on the fork he was fiddling with. 

"Hey…" 

Mundy's head slowly rose from behind the menu. 

"I think you are as shy as I find it endearing, so please…" 

Mundy's eyes were open wide. 

"... Let me be your friend, maybe?" Lucien asked, his right hand hanging over the table for Mundy to shake. 

The Aussie's eyes darted from Lucien's eyes to his hand. He eventually lowered the menu completely and shook Lucien's hand. 

"Oh…?" Mundy's eyes went down to his fingers.

Lucien did not let go of Mundy's hand, not for years.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Bartista Namjoon! Be still my heart!!! With those dimples that coffee shop would never be empty.

HONESTLY! We haven’t see the last of barista namjoon, either! LOL

[azrielswingspan231]

Cruel DR

Another AU by @onsunnyside

I used to date Jacob Barber but am currently dating his dad Andy Barber (🤤)

I work as a bartista at a coffee shop near Andy’s work

Andy works as a lawyer

I’m 23 and Andy’s 40

we have been dating for over a year

Jacob used to cheat on me so I spent a lot of time with his dad.

I did break up with Jacob because of his dad, I didn’t cheat on him.

This is a AU DR it’s not canon to the writers story, don’t compare the two. Some thinsg are the same others are different

Storytimes/Information

1

[lunarmultishine]

I’ve been thinking a lot about tropes lately - many of which I absolutely adore - and I was writing a fic that was shaping up to be an injury and amnesia one (not on the same character), so what if we combined some tropes?

My first thought was “Coffee Shop and Amnesia”

Which could bring up basically funny things, like a confused character A walking in to their bartista B and having a momentarily lapse of memory, or B messing up their order in a way that brings a spit take, an apology, and a reassuring smile and laugh. Even A finding they like the new combo.

Then you could have angsty scenerios. A not coming in for weeks, so B thinks they ditched B. Then they come back, and act like they don’t know B, and B is heartbroken. Until they notice the scars, and the way A stutters on their name own, as if they need a minute to remember it (weeks for recovery? Probably not medically accurate.)

My brain does fun things, no?

[wanderingwithc-and-m]

Day 7 & 8

I’m finding that the days of long drives are boring enough to save for the next days blog post. Hence why day 7 and 8 are together. I’m also noticing christina is a much better writer than me. She paints a beautiful picture where Im like here’s abc of what happened the end. I’ll get her to write day 9 most likely lol

Day 7 started bright and early. My alarm was set for 4am but when we felt how cold and dark it was we might have fallen back asleep for another 30mins. Once we got going we packed up and hit the road by 530am. 10hrs of driving to Montana was pretty uneventful. During our drive through Wyoming where the speed limit is 80! But also means there’s only a gas station every 50+miles. We came pretty close to being gasless on the side of the road in 99 degree heat. Luckily we rolled into a gas station with less than 8miles left in the tank.

After about 11hrs of travel we reached Bozeman Montana to see our good friend Paul (who also has type 1 diabetes). His family was still in town so christina and I decided to shower (first time since Madison) and head downtown for some dinner. I chose to eat at a place called Roost, that for being in the middle of nowhere had some pretty good fried chicken. After we walked downtown some more. We stopped into a coffee house that served not only bakery goods but beer/wine and cocktails. I tried a local raspberry cider (can you tell that’s my fav) and Christina got a berry sake mimosa. Surprisingly, both were really good. Christina really enjoyed the live music they had playing within the coffee shop and the bartista lady was a gem. Bozeman is a cute town kind of like Boulder except everyone fly fishes and hunts here.

I passed out early, but Christina and Paul went out on the town with friends. I hear they had some amazing fried Mac and cheese balls.

Day 8 by Christina

Today had a slow start. We intended on making a trip to Yellowstone, but decided against it as it would be a 4 hour round trip. It was very upsetting, especially since it’s such an iconic park. We were invited to participate in many other activities in Bozeman to occupy our otherwise unplanned time.

We had breakfast at the Western Cafe. Apparently they’re called cafes in the west, not diners. The Bobcat special was cinnamon roll French toast, which was very good.

Quick trip to Walmart to pick up some things, including a weekend fishing license for Marisa. Hopefully she can make it worth it.

Then it was off to hike the “M” trail. Montana’s own Hollywood sign, a giant M forged of white rock, overlooking Bozeman on the mountain above. It is quite deceiving, being only a 2 mile loop, yet the elevation gain is daunting. We weren’t the smartest hikers, starting the trek at noon. Marisa wanted to feel the backpack, so we put a light load in for her to carry. It was sweltering hot. Above 90 degrees and the trail had minimal shade. We reached the M, and decided to continue up the mountain. We thought it would reach a peak and eventually loop around and back down. We weren’t wrong… But it took about 10 more miles to do so. The climb was very difficult. Eventually we gave up, and sat down to eat before heading back down. A pair of girls, our age, approached from above and stopped to rest with us. They had a beautiful golden retriever in tow. It was, however, throwing a fit and would not walk another step. We struck up conversation and found they were just finishing an overnight backpacking trip and had run out of water a couple hours ago. I gave the dog almost a whole liter of water, but it was still struggling. Desperate, I offered to take one of their bags so that she could carry the dog. They had called a friend to come and help, but it would still be at least an hour and we had to try to make a bit more progress. We made it about a half mile, before the girl got too tired to carry the dog anymore. They decided to stay there and wait, and we parted ways. It was very nice to meet such nice girls, Laurel, Sara, and Chloe the dog. All of our own struggles became much more worth it.

We were absolutely drained when we got back to the car. Starving, we went to a fancy crepe place downtown. Absolutely amazing. We also hit up a local honey store around the corner which ended up being a real gem. We then drove into the Gallitin canyon, for a lil bit of fishing. It’s beautiful here, no matter where you look. No fish, oh well. Then it was off to Paul’s friends house for a cookout. His name was Denver. A lot of people around here have names like that. It’s always a great time with friends, food, and a little bonfire.

I’m falling in love… With Montana.

Xoxo

Christina