#i got chalk and many new markers

[flunkett]

drawin hella today

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Eight

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven

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A/N: I think I went too hard on this, but I also feel like it wasn't enough. I really wanted to play around with dialogue more. I was going to have the Bats hit Smalltown in this, but I think it would be best if the confrontation(s) had it's own chapter. Let me know what y'all think!

A/N: This is my longest writing yet. Just a heads up. Hope that's all good!

Warnings: Yandere themes, alluded murder, platonic bed sharing, OC usage.

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The way the raindrops on the windshield seemed to chase each other didn't even registered to you as your heart continues to palpitate in your chest. Your hands shaking on the steering wheel as the numbers on the mile markers continued to change, and they weren't growing any steadier with each passing one. The way the excitement to gyrated inside your chest as the old truck continued on the patch-work road made you feel lightheaded. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could get addicted to.

It didn't stop the nausea curdling in your stomach, but you chalk that up to this being your first true act of rebellion. Even if you felt it was justified. It wasn't like they were going to chase after you, though. They had made their priorities clear. Clear as Gotham's smog filled skies. You weren't going to allow yourself to waste away in that manor filled with more secrets than people when there was a life outside of it that you had once been a part of.

It wasn't until you were certain a full day had past that the storm had finally dissipated, both over Gotham and over your mind. The trepidation in your belly at long last fading into a sense serenity. Even if it was only a fleeting thing. Water rarely stays still for long when the storm comes.

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Back in Gotham the family had finally dragged their bone-weary selves back to the cave. Some collapsing in the nearest got. Some dragging themselves upstairs for their comfort of their bed. But, surprisingly, it's Damian that drags himself to your room. The past two days had worn him down and he just wanted his sibling, even if it meant disturbing them. Even if they were mad at him.

It doesn't register to him that your bed is empty. That some of your things are missing. He crawls under the covers and curls into the pillow like a temperamental cat. Resting his eyes temporarily he says. You're his sibling, you shouldn't mind. (He had heard you laughing on the phone about how your other little brother used to do this on occasion. He wants to know what that’s like)

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As everyone rest their heads back home, unaware that the worse was yet to come even after the lighting had passed, you start to turn down familiar roads. Roads you had memorized every bump of once. The roads that lead you towards a home you had missed and things you used to know.

There's a few new bumps and pot holes that you don't recognize, but you're too excited to see them as the warnings they were.

As you pull into the driveway of Nana and Grand Daddy's house, you can see Nana standing outside. Waving for you in front of the two-story bedroom house Daddy had designed and built for them years ago. The place was well cared for despite the creaky steps on the front porch that you had spent many hot summers on. Blowing snow across the yard to keep cool.

When you finally park the truck and hop out Nana's already rushing towards you with surprising speed for her old age. Already your arms are opening for her when she suddenly scoops you up and locks you in an tight embrace.

"I missed you." You mumble into her shoulder. Trying to fight back a few tears as the scent of her bitter perfume fills your nose.

"I missed you more. We all missed you more, sugarplum." You hear the gravel in her voice as she gives you one last squeeze. Holding you so tight that for a moment you feel you can't breath. But, before you need to gasp for air, she pulls back slightly. Her aged brown eyes looking you over appraisingly. "You sure ya' don't wanna rest up a bit? You look thin, sweetpea."

A soft noise escapes your lips in a puff.

"I'm sure. Still too wired from the drive." You reply as you wipe those few stray tears that somehow trickled down your cheeks. Your best efforts to keep them contained failing.

Everything around you feels different. It's home, but there's something about it that is different. The smells are the same, the sights are the same, even the sounds are the same. But, you chalk it up to the way the Gotham air still clings to your skin and the silence of the manor that has left your ears sensitive to the slightest shifts in change.

"I… I kinda feel bad about leaving how I did." Comes your immediate confession as she continues to hold you like you're made of soft gold.

Even if it seemed unnecessary to say, it felt nice just to blurt out how you were feeling to someone who actually listened. Besides, Nana had always made you tell her what was bothering you if there ever was something. It was a habit to tell her things by now.

"Leaving Gotham, I mean…. running away in the night without warning, Nana."

"Nonsense, baby." Already she's brushing your cheek and trying to soothe the worry and fear. Holding your face between her hands so all you can focus on is her.

"You ain't done not a thing wrong. They was being unreasonable. Besides, you can just call them later and tell them your alright." For a moment, you feel like she's lecturing you. Like she used to when you where little. About being safe and staying near her at all times when you went out into town with her. But, now you're grown and she still does it.

"Are you sure, Nana? Because I know You, and Momma, and Daddy used to get on to me about asking permission before doin' things-"

"Ah-ah," She irrupts your before you could finish, "This is one of those incidents where it's better to ask for forgiveness, I promise. Besides, I know you asked first. Not your fault they was being unreasonable. Not your fault at all, baby." Nana's voice going from stern to a soft coo as she starts to lead the way into the old house.

You take a breath of the place, smelling the seasonal candles that you usually had lit this time of year. Noting the slight changes in decor. Projects that Nana probably had Grand Daddy completing while you were gone. There's even more pictures on the walls. Some more of Momma and Daddy, and even more of you. Nana had even printed out the ones you had sent her on your phone while you where in Gotham.

It was nice she missed you so much that she made you the center piece of the picture gallery, but still it felt odd. You had been hoping to see more pictures of your brother, Jean Luke. To actually see what memories he had made without you. But, you don't comment. You just head towards the kitchen. Sitting in your usual spot at the counter to continue talking with her.

You can smell her cooking. Nana really wasn't the best cook, but she went all out making a few of your favorite dishes with as much effort as she could muster out of her bones.

"So, how's Lukie been doing?" You mean to start conversationally, but your tone drifts to sounding more concern when the reminder about the lack of pictures on the wall crosses your mind and the thought that maybe he actually hasn't been coping well since you’ve been gone pops into your head as well. "I know what he tells me. That he's doin' fine when we’re on the phone, but how is he actually doing, Nana?"

"He's doing better." She replies while checking the oven, a slight sigh in her voice. She caught your tone of concern. "Still misses your Momma and Daddy. Bless. But, he's doing better. He'll probably feel ever better now that your back." She gives you a grin before sliding you a cutting board and a knife.

Already you fall into step, peeling and chopping the things she hand you.

"I'm not actually back, back." You mention, biting your lip when you catch her freeze.

"What you mean, baby?" Her soft voice doesn't match her tense shoulders. The lines on her face growing taunt.

"Well, it's just I kinda feel bad about how I left things with Bruce and 'em. And, I still gotta finish high school." You start to explain. It is true. You had a whole day to try to think about your actions. Getting out of Gotham had helped you process your feelings about the place. You still didn't like Gotham, but you'd been told all your life that family was important. You just didn't know that the family that had told you that wanted you to put them before all others.

"Oh, baby, you won't be needing none of that. Besides this is where you belong. We need you here. Them city folks just don't understand you, baby." You're about to protest when she continues on just before your lips could part to speak.

"Besides, Tanner's really been missin' you. He about turned himself into a frog when Mae showed him a picture of you in that pretty little outfit she made for ya’. The boy about croaked." Nana gives you that meddlesome look you knew to well. The one she gave you when she spoke about her church friend's grandson's. The one that always made you bush.

It was a clever distraction, and not at all a lie. Nana had watched Tanner turn green with envy at the sight of you in that dress and with your date. And, he about sang when he heard about your date's death right after. The town all had to forcefully stop him from driving back to Gotham to just to comfort you.

"Nana, you're being silly again. He don't like me like that." You brush off the flush with practiced easy, giving her a stern look of your own.

"Things change, baby. You're grown now. Everything's gonna be different, but just the same." She muttered that last part so low you could hardly hear it. Just as your about to question that statement, she changes topic once more.

"Now, you wanna stay we me and your Grand Daddy tonight?" The question stunning you for a second. You hadn't even thought about where you were going to stay when you started your way back here. But, the longing creeps back into your chest once more.

"Actually, I want to stay at the old house. I- I miss my own bed." You once again find yourself confessing, though it goes much deeper than that. Nana likes it when you let her see even surface level things, usually she's able to draw the proper conclusions from them. However, this time Nana tenses for the briefest moment, but then relaxes almost instantly after. You nearly miss it.

"Of course, baby. Of course. Take Lukie with you. It'd do him some good and I'd hate for you to be alone all up in there. The loneliness might get to ya." She seemed to place a bit too much emphasis on bringing your brother with you. But, you weren't going to complain.

After all, "It already got to me, Nana. It already got to me." You whisper to yourself before letting Nana regale you with all the latest town gossip.

It's not long until you're making plans to help set up for your brother's and by extension your own birthday tomorrow. Happily chatting away until Grand Daddy and Jean-Luke walk in the door.

Instantly, receiving a soft kiss on the forehead from Grand Daddy along with a tight grip on your shoulders and a firm, "Missed you, sugarplum." Before he slowly lets you free to help Nana and quite speaking to her.

You turn to your brother, little Jean-Luc, and reach for him with the swiftness of a breeze. He seems to hesitate before returning your hug with an almost intense ferocity that strangely makes you think of your last hug with Dick. Like he doesn't want to let go. Like he's almost scared to let go.

You let him hold you a good long while, standing there in the kitchen. It should feel like a relief to hold him again. Yet, you have the sudden urge to carry him away. Something that makes the winds inside your chest tell you to flee. You mange to swallow it down, but not the tears. Those freely pour down your cheeks as you both whisper about how much you missed each other back and forth. You notice how oddly quite he is. It's easy to blame that on the grief you both still feel, but it's different.

Sitting at the table and enjoying the meal feels different. Everything is different. Including the way Jean-Luke grips your hand when you tell him your going to stay at the old house and how he can come if he wants.

You almost want to laugh at how fast he leaps into the front seat of the truck. The grin on his face the most genuine you've seen since you got here.

Driving up to the old house made you ache. A deep ache that you felt from you chest to your palms. The dirty from the buried grief you felt being disturbed. As you glanced at your little brother’s face, the one that looked so much like Momma’s, you could tell he felt it too. Which bothers you because he shouldn’t have had to bury his grief like you did yours.

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Back at the manor, in the short time it had been since Damian rested his head on your pillow. He noticed it was too still. You were always moving in the manor. Always breezing through the halls. Yet now things had gone still. Not just in your room, but through out the manor.

His green eyes had opened, and sharpened. You should be here resting with him. Where were you? He hadn't bothered to keep track of your belongings before, but some things felt out of place. After a brief scan of the room, he made his way towards the cave. His senses on high alert for you. Straining to overhear your usual chattering on the phone or your pattering feet on the carpeted halls.

But, there was nothing. Most everyone was asleep or dozing and the stillness bothered him. The cooling realization filled him with each step as he walked down into the cave.

Sitting at the computer, Bruce goes over the footage of the previous nights. The storm was suspicious, and the churning in his gut and the way his hair stood on end didn’t help those suspicions. But, when Damian had entered the cave, those suspicions went from whispers to screams.

"Damian, get everyone to the cave. Now."

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"Missing? What the hell do you mean missing?" Dick was the first to respond to the news, standing at attention and livid despite having recently been woken up by an anxious Damian. Well, as anxious as Damian would physically allow himself to be in front of anyone.

"Damian brought it to my attention and the truck is gone from the garage." Bruce replied. Normally, this would sound like his usual paranoia flaring, but no one questioned him this time. Just the grim look on his face and the way his shoulder's tensed let everyone know that this was a completely serious matter.

Exhaustion immediately melting form everyone as the mission suddenly shifted.

"Barbara, pull up the manor security cameras from the night first night of the storm."

She speedily rolled her chair over to the computer and started pulling up the footage. It was only because she had years to develop her self control that her fingers didn't shake as she typed on the keys.

I should have been watching them. I should have checked on them.

The footage begins to show the exact moment that their sweet sibling left their room with a large bag of their shoulder and a excited grin on their face.

Why are you smiling like that? Why are are you happy to be leaving them? Why are you leaving? Why are you leaving?

A million thoughts flash through each of their heads. All filled with variations of despair and worry. Those are quickly amplified when the camera video finally goes out due to the multiple lighting strikes that hit the manor and the generators.

"They left right when the manor's and cave's generator were hit." Tim jumps in into detective mode right away, not wanting to linger on the disparaging thoughts in his head. And, the budding anger in his chest for allowing this to happen. And, for you leaving them. Him.

"Why are their eyes glowing?" Duke points out, coming out of his head finally when his eyes catch the flicker of a glow on the screen. It was a blessing that the cameras were so state of the art.

"What?" That snaps everyone else out of their heads. All of them moving behind Barbara to see what he's talking about.

"Their eyes," He bends forward of the keys, lightly pressing his finger to where you face is on the high definition screen. "They're glowing."

"Babs…" Dick murmurs into her left ear, his eye's never leaving your frozen smiling face.

"On it." She nearly hisses right back. Fingers actually shaking this time as she zooms into your face and changes a few setting of the camera to see the light waves that were captured.

And, right there on the screen, was the hint illumination in those large eyes of yours.

"Holy shit, you're right." Stephanie is the first to speak. Stumbling back as she starts running a million different scenarios through her head. The other's following. Some still sitting enraged or worried about what this might possibly mean.

Possible hypothesises start being blurted out.

Mind Control?

Hypnosis?

Magic?

God, I hope not.

Aliens?

Even worse than the magic.

"Maybe someone from that town manipulated them?" Cassandra suddenly suggests, having silently watched the footage of you play over and over again. You looked excited, genuinely excited, and it broke her heart that you did. But, there was a part of her that was still hopeful. That maybe you left because you didn't know any better. Didn't realize how much they adored you. They'll fix that. They fix that as soon as they get you back.

"Was anything tampered with when that asshole dropped off the truck?" Jason grumbles while rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course he is livid. You fucking left. Sure, he liked putting the fear of God into you and could even tell you were unhappy at times, but you're an idiot if you think it's safe out there. And, you need to come home. Fuck, he'll even apologize and make up for scaring you. Please, just come back.

"No." Tim knows this because he made sure to check. Bruce may not have wanted to touch the truck and forbid them from messing with it. But, that didn't stop Tim from snooping on you at the very least. He just wanted to pretend he was in your fondest memories. Only until he could help you make newer better ones.

"Maybe a drug? Some chemical compound?" Duke eventually suggest, praying it isn't so.

"We could run a test? Just to check." Already Barbara begins pulling up the programs necessary, while Tim sets up the lab equipment. Dick is already running up to your room to grab any strand of hair he can find that might have been left behind. And, maybe checking to see if they were all wrong and you really didn't leave them. Him.

"Run them all."

That draws everyone's attention back to Bruce. The man had been standing stoically in silence. Brooding in silence as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

You left him. You left because of him. This wasn't some disagreement on how he did things as Batman. This wasn't because you were trying to get back at him. You left him willing because of what he had done as your father. No one has ever willing left him like this before. Not his children. Not his parents. Not anyone he has ever allowed himself to actually care for. It makes him mad, but more than anything it makes him want to collapse in on himself. He won't. Obviously. But, he's going to bring you back home. He's going to fix his mistake while he has the chance and you will give him that chance.

"Bruce… That includes a DNA test."

"I said all of them."

"What?" It's Damian who finally speaks up. For the first time since he alerted the other's of your disappearance. "Why would you do that? It's unnecessary."

It's a betrayal, he thinks. Not on your part. You may be too soft and too kind and too fragile and too simple minded. But, he knows you’re his. He may have gotten over his obsession with the blood in his veins, but the blood in yours connects you to him in a way none of his other siblings can have. He doesn't even think to question it. Doesn't want to. And, for a moment, he feels utter betrayed by his sire for thinking to doubt it.

"Damian."

"NO. It is unnecessary." He doesn't glare, but the anger is plain on his face. How dare father question?

Regardless of what Damian wants, Bruce nods to Barbara and Tim when a downtrodden Dick reenters the cave with a hairbrush in hand. You really were gone.

"Do it."

"Father-"

"Damian. They are our family, regardless of the results."

Bruce will love you regardless. He did a DNA test all those years ago. He knows your his, but he needs to make sure your still his. That something didn't change you or take you from him.

For Damian it's a tense minute. He knows you'll be family. No matter the results. But, he wants to share something with you that only an exclusive few people on this Earth or in this life ever will.

"Fine."

After that, it's silence for the next forty-three minutes. The programs running on the BatComputer dinging softly as each one is completed. Barbara's fingers rub together as she watches each one.

Tim doesn't bother looking, too anxious to sit around and wait. Already, he is on a spare computer looking into God knows what. Whatever it is, the rest of them can tell it's about you. Just by seeing the way his pupils are blown wide and darting about his screen.

Dick stands tense. Normally he would move about. Pace or do something. But, it seems wrong right now. The discomfort in the stillness is nothing compared to his current distress at knowing you're gone.

Stephanie debates internally on ripping the spare computer away from Tim. Wanting to see what he's found on you. Wondering if he knows if you're alright or not. Wondering if he's just watching looped footage of you and not sharing.

Duke is thinking. Really, he's contemplating what's happening. This is going to spiral into something. He feels it. He might not be the most experienced or most trained, but he knows something is changing. And, for once, he's not scared of the idea. Mostly because he knows by the end of this you will be back home. They won't allow you to stay lost.

"DNA test shows their a match to you, Bruce. And, we compared them to your old test of them too. Still a match."

Damian nearly beams, but manages to hide his relief under a smug smile.

"I told you, father."

"I didn't doubt." And, it is true. He never doubted you were his. But, he is still searching for an explanation.

"No drugs. No anything in their system that would register, but-" Barbara stops when she notices the screen. The anomaly on it. The one test that triggered. A question being possibly answered from the result and a million more arising if true.

"Oh."

"What is it?" Jason breaks the silence that's once again gone over everyone. The sense of unease bubbling through them all.

"I ran their DNA through all the usual test, and there was one single positive one."

"Which one?"

"Meta gene. And…"

Oh.

"It's active."

"Son of a bitch."

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As your brother and you start getting settled in for the night in the old house, airing out the stale air, pretending the dusting isn't there, you wonder around a bit. Similar to how you would back at the manor. Only this time there's no historical paintings on the wall. Just pictures of your own history laid out before you.

You'd never been more grateful for all the photos taken by you mother. All the times she would chase you down with a brush or comb in hand yelling at you, "You need to make sure you have nice hair for the picture. Or, the one's with terrible hair will be the one's that forever."

"But, what if I want them to last forever?" Your voice had been young and cheeky then.

"What if I just want them to last a little bit longer?" Now that voice was older and much more solemn.

Quickly, you shake the thought from your head. Setting your bag back in your old room for the night. A quick glance at the old space shows that someone's been in it recently. Probably your old friend Mae, judging by the amount of clothes spilling from your closet and dresser. She was always stuffing things in here for you. It makes you smile fondly to know that she missed you despite your phone calls early every day.

As you walk back down the hall, you find Jean-Luc standing outside your parent's old room.

"You wanna come with me to see them?"

"Yeah." The word soft, full of unshed grief as you both walk out to the back. There's an old live oak with Spanish moss out there, and two dead people that were loved and buried underneath it.

"Daddy always liked it when you made it rain when it was sunny out." Lukie whispers, recalling all the times you won the water-gun fights.

You remember the summer showers. The snowy Christmases. The way you used to blow the pollen away. The hurricanes you tamed. The tornadoes you saved the town from . The memories make causing the rain difficult. But, when you walk through the slightly overgrown grass towards the two stones the tears fall easy while the rain falls hard.

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"I pulled up all the weather patterns for that region and the theory is starting to look more factual by the second." Tim's already taken the helm, old weather radar scans on the screen. Files on Smalltown and it's people pulled up for display.

And, an entire screen dedicated to you. You. You. YoU. yOU. YOU? YOU

"So, it's confirmed they caused the storm. But, why?" It's Stephanie that asks while pacing back and forth next to the all of gear. Her worry and disbelief illuminated by the display lights.

"Princess was probably pissed." Jason says while cleaning his guns. The parts neatly laid out on the table while he shines and greases each piece. Twice. Thrice. Over and Over.

"But, why?" Dick is finally in motion, tapping his foot as impatiently. He knows they need all the information and a plan before they can get you back. But, the wait is straining him.

Barbara gives him a single look in reply. One that they've all shared often enough to know the meaning of.

"They hid it pretty well." Duke mushes. Strangely enough he's happy with this information. Everyone else in this family is technically a normal person, just with maxed out skill stats and trauma. Now, you two can both be normal childhood bros and meta buddies together.

"Cass, did you suspect anything?"

"I didn't ask." Which translates to, she knew, but didn't want to say anything that would drive you away. Seems kind of pointless now that you're gone, though.

The bitter silence reigns once more, before Tim speaks up.

"Incoming. The Asshole is getting a call from Nana." A few clicks and they're listening to the sound of your old childhood crush and your dearest Nana speak. The topic? You.

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That night you curled up with Jean-Luc in your parents old bed. Like you both used to when nightmares made cowards. You had to dig the old bedding out of the storage. The scent of the detergent Momma used to use faint on them. But, the two of you burrowed underneath the duvet like you were trying to hide from the world.

"How you feelin'?" You whisper to him, the room only illuminated by the stars in the window and the faint bathroom light.

"It's weird without Momma and Daddy. Everythin' is weird now and scary." He mutters in reply. He practically plants himself into your side.

"I know. I feel that way about it too."

"No, I mean… here. In town it's weird. Eveybody be actin' weird since you left." There's something in the way his voice shakes that makes you think he's not making this up

"What do you mean about everyone actin' weird, hun? I thought you were spendin' time with everyone. Nana said you were hanging out with Mae and Tanner. I know Mae is odd, but-"

"Nana's being weird too. And, Grand Daddy. She don't let me do nothin' fun at all these days. Says everything's to dangerous, and if somethin' happened to me you'd be upset." The child interrupts, sounding remarkably like his age with his complaints. But the low sound of his voice sounds less like mutterings and more like a cautious whisper.

"Well, that's cause Nana loves you. She don't want nothin' to happen to you, baby." You try to reassure him, as you've always done.

"But, she's always going on and on about you. She's almost as bad as Tanner." The way he says that name makes you pause. Tanner's been mention quiet a lot since you've been back. And, you've only been back for a couple of hours.

"Tanner's gone on about me?" You try to sound bashful, try to sound like its a compliment. But, the blush doesn't come.

"Yeah." Lukie practically roots himself into your chest where your heart is beginning to pound. "Always going on about you and the future and ranting about Gotham. He… he's kinda scary. I saw him and Grand Daddy a few months ago dragging something into the swamp. It looked… it looked about as long as a gator, but it wasn't a gator. It had clothes on."

"Baby, what do you think it was?" You somehow keep your voice steady as your arms wrap around him. Clinging to him and shielding him.

"I don't think I wanna remember. I just want everything to go back to normal."

After that, you let the wind outside the house howl. The way it blows through the trees with your fear keeps you up. Eventually you force the rain once again. Trying to lull Lukie-boy and yourself to sleep. For a brief moment, a flicker of a thought before you drift off into an uneasy slumber you think...

Should I have stayed?

And, your not certain if your talking about here or Gotham.

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A/N: I'd say there's about two more parts of this left, then we'll be really focusing on Pregnant!Reader for a bit. Got a blurb list in the works for it and a few ideas. And, I really really really need to clean out my ask box. Oops.

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Taglist

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[starkwlkr]

Hey love your baby Leclerc serie i have maybe a idea for the serie

Maybe where yn gets her hair dyed and ruby wants also her hair dyed maybe 2 locks of her hair and when they got home ruby is like daddy look my hair

little miss rainbow hair | charles leclerc

changed it just a little bit here it is :)

Y/n wanted a change. At first she wasn’t sure if that change meant getting a tattoo or dyeing her hair. She then realized that she wasn’t ready for a tattoo yet so a trip to Pascale’s hair salon was on the top of her to do list. When she arrived to the salon, some of the nice older women said hello to Ruby and Y/n since they visited Pascale many times. Y/n greeted her mother in law and talked to her about having a change in her hair.

“Hi! Hi! Hi!” Ruby greeted each women as she passed them by. When she got to a woman who she remembered had brown hair, she gasped since the woman now had red hair. “Your hair! It’s red!” Ruby excitedly told the woman, whose name was Maria.

Maria chuckled. “It is. My favorite color is red so I decided to change it.”

“It’s pretty. I want to paint my hair rainbow colored, but papa says I can’t because I’m too little but when I grow up this big,” she showed her desired height with her hands. “I’m going to paint my hair rainbow.”

“And you’re going to look so beautiful!” Maria said.

“Does painting your hair hurt? Do you miss your brown hair? What if you want a different color?” The little girl continued with her questions. Maria laughed, she didn’t mind answering any question that Ruby had.

After talking with Pascale, Y/n decided that cutting and dyeing her hair was her desired style. “Ruby, come here for a minute.” Y/n told her daughter.

Ruby skipped towards her mother, who was seated in the stylist chair. “Are you painting your hair too? Paint it red!”

“I am painting my hair but it’s not going to be red, babe. Maman’s hair is going to be (whatever color you want). And I’m going to cut it just a little. What do you think? Is papa going to like maman’s hair?” Y/n asked.

“He’s going to love it!” The girl said rather aggressively. She then saw bottles of hair dye on the counter and ran towards them. She saw the color red and immediately grabbed it and ran to Pascale. “Can you paint my hair, grand-mère? Please!”

Pascale took the bottle away from the girl and placed it on a shelf. “This isn’t meant for little girls, amour, sorry.”

“So I have to wait a hundred years? That’s so long!” Ruby whined.

“You don’t have to wait a hundred years, that’s silly. Maybe when you’re fifteen, your papa and maman can let you dye your hair.” Pascale replied.

“Die? I don’t want to die.” Ruby’s eyes widened.

“D-y-e. Dye. The bottle you had is hair dye and what I’m going to put on your maman’s hair is hair dye. Basically paint for your hair. It comes in all colors for all types of hair.” Pascale explained as she walked with the girl to where Y/n was.

“Oh. Well . . . Maman, can I dye my hair?” Ruby asked innocently.

“When you’re older you most certainly can, Ruby Jules,” Y/n replied as Pascale began to wet Y/n’s hair. “And don’t get any ideas about painting your hair with actual paint or markers. It’s not good for your hair.”

“But I want rainbow hair.” She said defeated.

Suddenly Maria walked up to the Leclerc family. “Sorry, I heard little Ruby wanted to ‘paint’ her hair and obviously hair dye isn’t for you yet. My daughters always ask me to dye their hair so I bought this,” Maria gave Y/n a little bag with colored containers. “They’re called color chalk. It’s a fun way for kids to color their hair in a safe way. It lasts long which surprised me but if you want you can keep those for Ruby. I have more in house. My daughters love them so much, I have plenty.”

Ruby then looked at her maman with a little smirk. “Rainbow hair.” She whispered.

“You win, you little rascal.” Y/n sighed.

When Charles got home, he didn’t expect both of his girls to be sporting new hair looks. He first saw Y/n’s hair and immediately loved it. He couldn’t keep his hands off her hair. He loved to run his fingers through it. As he was about to give her another compliment, Ruby walked into the living room with rainbow colored hair.

“Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” Charles asked.

“It’s me, papa! It’s Ruby, but with rainbow hair.” She flipped her hair and walked to sit beside him.

“Okay, Ruby but with rainbow hair, I hope that comes off because you have school pictures in a month.” Charles informed her.

“Maria said it lasts long so I guess little miss rainbow hair is going to be colorful for her school pictures.” Y/n smiled at her daughter.

“I’m so much cooler than you, papa. I have rainbow hair and you don’t.” Ruby teased.

“Y/n, get me the scissors.”

[ladyalisette]

How to make your fan plushie: Part 2 - Fabric and Sewing

So. You got your pattern. You’re reasonably confident in what you got going on with it.

Time to pick a fabric.

Personally, I prefer to work in fleece for the main part. It’s got some advantages:

1) it doesn’t fray, so I don’t need to hem it. Since I’m doing all my sewing by hand, not having to hem this shit is VITAL to the continued existence of my carpal tunnel.

2) most fleeces are the same on both sides. You can’t fuck up the direction of a fur or the pattern or the shiny vs matte side, which imo makes them great beginner’s fabrics

3) they tend to stretch equally in both directions. This does, again, make your life easier because it means the plushie won’t distort weirdly during stuffing if you accidentally flipped a piece somewhere

4) soft, yet not so fuzzy that it will start obscuring the details. A lot of my work got small details going that you just cannot get on plush

Generally speaking, I buy my fleece at a local store, in person, if possible. It lets me touch the fabric, and hold up threads and other pieces to it to see if the colors much. BUT. if the internet is all you got? Go and use it, no shame in that.

Now, there are two other kinds of fabric I regularly use in plushie making: one is thin felt, and one is satin ribbon.

The felt is for flat, detailed applique work that would suck in fleece. You can only cut fleece so small before it starts disintegrating on you. Felt can be cut finer before you hit that point.

The lion is felt, because cutting the mouth in fleece would have been suffering.

The other thing is satin ribbon. Now, this does especially for ghosties, but you may use this knowledge as you please: it’s hard to make fabric glow. Fleece doesn’t look shiny, it doesn’t catch the light, the structure isn’t meant for it. Satin however does just that.

So if you have a detail on your plushie that you want to jump out, something that should glow and shine?

Like this?

Satin ribbon is your friend.

The contrast will let you approximate without having to fuck about with electronics, and satin ribbon comes in endless colors, many widths, and can often be bought by the meter.

Otherwise, depending on your subject, you may want embroidery floss (the XIV up there is embroidered on).

Then you bring it all home. You lay it flat on a surface of your choice (floor for me), and you trace all your pieces onto the fabric. I use both tailor’s chalk or a plain old ballpoint pen, depending on how dark my fabric is. Both work fine. Use what pleases you. Just note that if you need a lot of pressure to trace your pieces, you may distort/stretch the fabric by pulling on it

HOWEVER FOR THE CUTTING i cannot overstate how much a pair of dressmaking or fabric shears makes your life easier. They are handsdown the best sewing investment I’ve ever made, even if you need to handle them with a bit of care and can only use them for fabric, ever, they make it SO much easier to get good cuts. Expensive fabric markers you can skip but shears are so good. Get yourself some shears.

Anyhow, you trace your stuff, you cut your stuff, your result should look something like this:

(this is  Mr.Bean’s Teddy before assembly begins)

Now, if you’re new to this, my suggestion here would be to pin a few things together, see if the sides match up like you want them or if anything got stretched in the process. If you’re confident that it’s all to size?

Get your needle and your thread and get sewing. small pieces you may be able to just hold together, otherwise you can baste or pin them. I usually prefer pins.

I use bog standard thread, doubled up, knotted at the end and then I just...put everything right side together (meaning: the outside that you can see has the trace marks on it, the inside is pristine. Because the now-inside will be the outside once we flip this over) and sew ahead. My suggestion would be to use the trace line the line you sew along. It’s an easy marker to where your stitches should be and it’s there already anyways.

My preference for a stitch is a regular back stitch as explained here:

Now my method is to overlap the stitches a bit, so instead of going to the end point of the earlier stitch, i end up somewhere near the middle of it. I find that it makes a tighter, and more secure hold. As for stitch length: this depends on how big the thing you’re doing this, and your personal preference.

Also: do not let people tell you that you HAVE to go left to right or right to left or that it got anything to do with your dominant hand. Work in a way that is comfortable for you. I’ve switched directions between pieces, it’s really just a matter of what works for you, in that moment. So. you get going and you start putting your things together.

Just remember: you gotta turn that baby out later, so if you’re making an orb? Leave a seam somewhere only partially done, we’ll need that to flip it over. The size of the opening depends on how soft your fabric is and how much fabric you gotta pull through but better save than sorry. Sewing up a bigger hole later one makes no difference, but if you’re rough and rip apart your stitches in the process, the repair can be a real bitch. Knowing how much space you need again comes with experience.

[desn512sarahb]

Reflective Statement: DRAFT

Research skills What specific forms of research did you do? What really helped inspire / extend your poster designs? How could you improve your research?

Researched online for New Zealand news reports on Kauri dieback disease on people's options on the issue to help gather quotes or messages.

Then made a brainstorming map surrounding the issue of Kauri dieback disease making as many notes as possible, eg. the causes, what affecting, Kauri history, protection programmes, how to protect and why matters. This really helped me feel more inspired when I had multiple viewpoints to explore this idea properly.

From my research, I decided to focus on the damage of Kauri dieback disease attacking Waipoua Forest, where the largest tree, Tāne Mahuta lives. Inspired by Mr Craw’s article describing Waipoua Park as a “future graveyard”, which then birthed the idea of “Tāne Mahuta future graveyard”. As a way to make the biggest statement on this issue, hope is gone once the largest tree has passed away.

I could improve my research by looking into more of the history of Kauri, eg, how they were cut down, their connection to the Great Barrier and maybe even the tools used.

creative process What design processes did you employ? eg. sketching, experimentation in InDesign, development of selected design ideas, print testing, etc. Which processes helped push your ideas + shape your posters? How? What are the strengths and weaknesses within your design process?

My past experience with painting causes me to be much more practical when it comes to design, so I knew I wanted an element of something handmade. I always sketch out different poster ideas on paper before I do anything digital so I can get the ideas out more clearly.

Created my own typeface for ‘graveyard’ to create a graffiti, rough look as if the forests will become forgotten about, like been ‘written off’. I used a thick marker pen to achieve this effect and then scanned and digitising in Photoshop.

I had the idea of creating a calligram with all the words that describe Kauri Disease and arranging them in the form of a tree. I created this using a mix of black chalk, pencil and pen, achieving a gurney, death look to it.

I definitely have a weakness when it comes to typography, so this was a great happy medium. Where I'm exploring typography in a more practical fun way, whilst helping address a message clearly without the help of imagery.

Decision making How did you make decisions to develop the project and its responsiveness to the brief? What did you find hard + which decisions were easy? What did you do when you were stuck? You may refer to your Rationale for ideas, but do not repeat the content.

When I found myself getting stuck on typography specifically I did some more word association practices using a random word generator and skipped until finding one I got inspiration. Focusing on creating a poster that only uses that one words and limited colours.

I found myself getting stuck on the tree caligram posters the most out of the rest of my ideas as i struggled to figure a layout that works well for the statement text. To help with this I reached out for feedback from peers and played around as many different layouts I could. When that wasn't working I took away some features and just focused on the basics layout to help spark some ideas.

Overall progression of my work and learning What have you learned so far? What were some of the challenges and breakthroughs? What insights do they suggest for your work for the rest of the semester? Are there any skills or processes you need to revise or improve?

Going into this I already knew that typography is one of my biggest struggles so this has been helping me improve this definitely, as only focusing on it.

[caffeinated-croissant]

Blue, Red Black and Infinity

This is my submission for @writersmonth ‘s pride collection. The prompt was to write using all the colors of a flag. I chose the Polyamorous flag with a story featuring Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, and Rachel Dare.

Jason Anderson Grace and Rachel Elizabeth Dare were artists. They each had their own preferences of mediums, styles, and inspiration. Jason preferred his sketchbooks, his ink, his charcoal and his oil pastels. Rachel on the other hand loved acrylic paint, canvas, water color, and chalk. Jason’s style tended to be more realistic in nature while Rachel took on the approach of abstract and full of color that maybe never was there but always should’ve been. Most of Jason’s inspiration comes from the influences around him and what he metaphorically consumes in content. Rachel takes her inspiration as it comes to her, maybe it’ll be a dream or a random thought or maybe the world just speaks to her long enough for something to form. 

Between Rachel and Jason there was one thing they could easily agree to in terms of art, their boyfriend Percy Jackson was a fucking masterpiece and he was the perfect surface to work together with their art. 

Right now in their three bedroom apartment, Percy was sitting on one of the special chairs in the shared art studio as Rachel and Jason used his chest as a canvas. Rachel was sitting to his left on a cushioned stool while Jason was over on his right sitting on a matching stool. They were both using non-toxic paint/ paint markers while listening to a playlist Percy had made for them. 

“Is this a together project or two separate pieces?” Percy asked them as his eyes wandered around the studio with so many different pieces, some finished, others works in progress, and a small portion currently discontinued. 

“It’s gonna be a singular piece.” Jason answered not bothering to look up and lose his concentration of whatever he was. 

Percy didn’t have to see what it was for him to know it would turn out breathtaking. “What is it?” 

“It’s just a little something we’ve been working on as a surprise.” Jason barely glanced up but in that split second of eye contact Percy could feel himself getting lost in the ever changing blue of the sky. It could shift from a blue mixed with dark grays and tinged with purples, into a baby blue tinted with silvers and grays and finally into the shade it was now: the deep clear blue of the summer sky. These were Percy’s favorite shades of his long time favorite color. 

=

“Rachel, why are your initials the only ones that make any sense?” Percy was lying in the middle of the bed and staring up into the popcorn ceiling void of their apartment. Jason was curled next to him with his arm firly locked around Percy’s waist. Rachel was on his other side partially ready for the day and partially distracted with new painting ideas. 

She glanced over and tilted her head at him, “What do you mean?”

“Out of all our initials, only yours makes any sense. Mine go like pej or P.E.J and both sound weird. Jason’s are jag which sounds like jagged or they end up as J.A.G which also sounds weird. But then your initials go and make the word red, like your hair.” 

“I dunno but I guess I’m just special like that,” she laughed before getting up to finish getting ready. 

“With the craft fair coming up next weekend, do you want me to run by the craft store and get anything?”

“That would honestly be great, I need more of those jars and the red paint you got a while ago.”

“Alright then, when Jason wakes up I’ll write everything down and head out.” He pulled her in for a soft kiss.

=

The rooftop of their apartment was not Percy’s first choice for a date but as it turns out it definitely isn’t the worst idea that was ever thought of. And as long as they all stayed away from the edge Percy knew he’d be fine and so would his lovers. 

The date itself was Jason’s idea and he set it all up to surprise Rachel and Percy. He set out blankets and cushions from the apartment to make a comfy little nest for them all. They ended up watching the movie Tangled together with Jason sitting in the middle. When the movie started playing the song I See The Light Jason looked up from the movie and over to the loves of his life on either side of him. They were both somewhere between attentive and close to nodding off. 

Jason gave a soft kiss to Rachel’s forehead, expecting to be able to place a soft kiss in the dark curls on his other side. Instead Rachel blinked up at him before shifting to lay on top of him and make out.

As the song finished they broke apart before shifting further to see Percy easily curled into Jason’s side, more asleep than awake. The pair glanced at each other before Rachel gave a mischievous smirk. 

Jason shook his head, already having an idea of what she wanted to do. 

Rachel gave him a light kiss on the nose before moving her attention to her new target. 

In order to at least try and stop Rachel before she pounced, Jason wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her right against him. 

Rachel was not complacent in being physically held down, not when a perfectly kissable Percy was right next to her, and so she struggled and wrestled with the one armed Jason. Naturally they both became absorbed in the fight as it escalated to the point where Jason started using both his arms. They rolled around on the roof for a bit each trying to pin the other, until finally Rachel was sitting on top of him with both of his arms pinned to his side. 

She was already breathing heavily as she leaned down to kiss him, when they once again broke apart she remembered why they were wrestling. Looking over she saw her other lover sitting up still looking half asleep. He was wrapped up in what looked like one of Jason’s oversized hoodies, and his black curls were messier than usual. 

Rachel glanced down at Jason before trying to book it over to Percy. That did not work nearly as well as she hoped, considering now it was a free for all race and, as long as no one got hurt, sabotage was fair game. 

The race was not long lived but was eventually won by Jason who easily pulled Percy into his lap and kissed him. As the nice girlfriend (and sore loser) she was, Rachel of course started trying to tickle them both; and let it be known to the world Jason and Percy were both very ticklish but so was she. Jason and Percy were forced apart by Percy’s breathless giggles. Jason of course took his revenge and their war began again this time as a free for all in a lawless land.

The fight was long and left them exhausted. But left them with certain highlights like Jason being ganged up on by Rachel and Percy, or at the end when Percy started laughing so hard he had to wave a white flag as his chest hurt. After the white flag was called they all paused to collapse next to one another and catch their breath. 

“Guys, look up at the moon tonight,” Percy said, trying to point out the full moon above. 

“It’s huge!” Jason pointed out. 

“That's cause tonight’s a super moon.” 

“What’s that mean?” Rachel asked, looking over at Percy. 

“Basically that it’s a full moon and this is the closest the moon will be to the earth this year.”

The trio didn’t talk very much after that, instead studying a combination of each other and the inky black of the night sky with its infinite stars.

[unholyobsessions]

Sunset Coffee

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Julie develops a crush on the cute barista, little does she know he feels the same way

Warnings: none i think

Word Count: 3.5k

Prompt for jatp week Day 2: Write an AU. Modern AU / Coffee Shop AU @jatp-week​

The bell above the door dings as Julie pushes it open. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills her nostrils and she scrunches her face. She dislikes coffee, always has, too bitter for her taste, but she loves hot chocolate. Her mom used to make it for her at least twice a week and for a year after her mom’s passing, she made it her goal to find a coffee shop that made it as good as her mom did.

Sunset Coffee is a small shop in the corner of a small suburban neighborhood. It’s hidden behind the façade of a one story home, the only evidence of its existence being the small sign by the front lawn and on the door and the amazing yelp reviews left by their devoted customers.

Julie discovered it by accident. She was riding her bike around aimlessly through the city when she had the sudden urge to use the bathroom. Deciding to knock on the friendliest looking house, she was surprised to see the sign by the door. She went in carefully, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere created by the music playing softly in the background, and a number of college-looking students on their laptops or with textbooks opened around them. She went up to the island at the corner of the room, being used as a makeshift counter, and asked the barista on the other side if she could use their bathroom. The girl, looking no older than nineteen, smiled and pointed her in the correct direction.

Julie smiled back and rushed to the empty hallway, opening the door and walking in to do her business. She decides to stick around, going back to the counter and asking the question she has asked at dozens of other coffee shops.

“Do you sell hot chocolate?” The smile she receives in return answers her question. She stands by the counter as she waits for her drink, allowing her eyes to drift over the room. The walls are covered with different types of hand writing. Quotes from books, movies, or tv shows. Jokes, phone numbers, emails, and instagram handles. Theres a basket by the door, she notes, filled to the brim with different color markers, encouraging people to express themselves.

She receives her drink and she takes it, handing her the exact amount of change. She decides to explore the rest of the rooms, intrigued with the nice shop. The next room has couches instead of chairs and the walls are painted with chalk paint. There’s drawings, to-do lists, and so much more written on the walls. She smiles and takes the first sip of her drink. As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she knows that she will never get a hot chocolate from anywhere else. It’s not quite the same as her mom’s but the difference is what makes it so good.

There’s a hint of cinnamon hidden behind the rich taste of chocolate and Julie finds herself closing her eyes, savoring the moment. She continues exploring, keeping a grasp of the mug. There is a total of four rooms. The entry one, the chalk one, one with bright red booths, mimicking an 80s looking diner, complete with a jukebox in the corner, and the last one that has normal black tables with gold accented walls. There are autographed picture frames of famous people who Julie assumes have visited the coffee shop hanging on the walls.

After finishing the drink, Julie places the mug in the sink by the corner meant for all used mugs and glasses. She bids goodbye to the barista and leaves, making note of the address and promising herself to be back soon. She went back two days later and has been there almost everyday. She goes after school, to do either her homework or work on some songs.

She looks up from her phone, ready to greet Flynn, who she became fast friends with and no longer has to even ask what she’s having, already having the drink prepped since seeing her pull up. She is however met by a male voice, welcoming her into the shop. Julie’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and she freezes. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone as attractive as the man standing before her. She clears her throat and continues walking forward, already pulling out her wallet from her backpack. She hands him the exact amount needed as she always does and he merely raises an eyebrow.

“Umm what are you having?”

Julie gapes at him, feeling stupid for her actions. “Oh! Right. A hot chocolate please. Sorry, Flynn already knows what I order so it’s a force of habit.” The man chuckles and presses a few buttons on the cash register, taking the money from her and handing her the receipt a few seconds later.

“No worries, I normally work mornings but Flynn called in sick so I offered to come in today.” He walks back to make her drink and Julie stands awkwardly by, gripping the straps of her backpack. He turns back and hands her the cup with a smile. “So with Flynn knowing your drink I’m guessing you’re a regular?” He asks, hoping to start a conversation with the pretty girl.

“Yeah,” Julie looks down for a second. “I’m Julie.” She would have offered her hand for a handshake but considering her grip on the mug, she decides it’s a bad idea.

“I’m Luke.” He slightly bites his lip and Julie has to try her best not to swoon over him. She nods her head and takes a step back going to sit in one of the empty tables. She normally opts for the couches in the chalk room but for some reason (certainly not the attractive barista) she decides to stay in the front room today.

Luke Patterson’s parents have owned Sunset Coffee since he can remember. The quaint little house on a suburban street owned by his grandparents was left to his family after their passing. The decision to remodel came after his dad lost his job, and the extra house in his name left room for ideas. He remembers sitting with his parents at the kitchen table as they decided what to do with it and his small, seven-year-old voice, speaking his opinion.

“We can sell coffee!”

Of course Luke didn’t drink coffee, but he hears the compliments given to his father’s coffee every time they have company over. To him it’s just a bitter drink he had once but from what he’s seen and heard, it’s seen as a necessity by adults.

His parents were a bit skeptical at first but the idea grew on them and they got to work. His mother designed the rooms, taking inspiration from the internet and his father took care of the menu, trying different concoctions that would often be served with dinner, decaf for young Luke of course.

Once it opened, it took a while for people to notice the hidden gem but once they did, everyone loved it. Although not known by many, those who come once normally decide to keep coming, loving the atmosphere it holds.

He started working there when he turned sixteen. At first he took the afternoon shift since he was still in high school, but after graduating he much preferred working mornings, since that left all of his afternoon free to practice with his band.

He’s known his bandmates all of his life. Living next door to Bobby made them friends by default and when they started first grade, they were introduced to both Alex and Reggie and the four have been inseparable ever since. They formed Sunset Curve freshmen year, naming themselves after their designated hangout spot.

They’re always hanging around when Luke has a shift, which is why it is not surprising when they burst through the door of the coffee shop as he is distracted, staring at Julie. The yell of his name breaks his trance and he rolls his eyes at the sight that greets him.

Reggie is draped over Bobby’s back, eyes drooping shut, probably from staying up all night writing his beloved country songs. Alex is smiling lovingly down at his phone and Luke makes a mental note of to tease him about that later.

They make their way to Luke and he tells them to go wait for his shift to be over in the diner room and then they could discuss their next gig. He tries his best to usher them away quickly, knowing that he will find it easier to work up the nerve to talk to Julie without them in the same room. They eye him suspiciously but ultimately ignore his strange attitude, walking away and down the hallway.

As this happens, Julie is opening her laptop and slipping on her earphones, her Spotify is opened to her ‘You Can Do It’ playlist and she hopes that this will encourage her to actually write her Common App essay. She is consistently drinking from the mug, finishing her hot chocolate sooner than expected.

After his friends finally decide to leave him alone he looks back to the pretty girl, lost in the her own little word. He is shocked to find the empty mug already placed on the table, and he is sure he has never seen anyone drink a hot chocolate that fast. He makes the quick decision to make her another one because by the way she has settled into her seat, it looks like she is going to be here for a while.

A few minutes later, Julie is startled when Luke picks up the empty cup and places new warm beverage, complete with whipped cream on the top, in front of her. She slips off one earbud and turns to him.

“Oh I didn’t order another one,” which as she thinks back, is a pretty stupid thing to say because of course he knows that she didn’t order another one, considering the fact that she has not moved from her spot.

“I know, it’s on the house,” he smiles at her and Julie swears it’s like looking at the rising sun. So bright, but beautifully enchanting that it makes it impossible to look away.

“Thank you,” she says, slightly embarrassed because she doesn’t know if he’s flirting or if he is just being considerate.

Of course Luke is flirting with her, and he hopes to God it’s working. He wants to ask for her number, but as he spots her laptop and sees the screen he suddenly deflates. There is a list of prestigious colleges open next to her google doc filled with essay prompts. He however, barely graduated and is not even in community college as he waits for his band to make it big. He has never been insecure about his decisions, and is actually extremely proud of what the band has accomplished, but as he stands before this beautiful and obviously intelligent girl, he suddenly feels as if his accomplishments are not good enough.

So instead of asking her out as he originally planned to, he walks away. He continues to stare at her though, and if he starts asking Flynn to switch shifts with him more often then it’s merely a coincidence.

. . .

It takes a month of endless pining for his friends to finally attempt to knock some sense into him.

It’s the eighteenth time that Luke has asked Flynn to change shifts with him in order to see Julie and speak to her for a few minutes. Flynn definitely knows what’s going on, and knows full well that Luke’s crush is reciprocated because of her many late night phone calls with Julie. She, of course, doesn’t say anything, simply agreeing to take the morning shift, and sending a quick text to Julie telling her that her knight in shining armor will be working that day. This text normally leads to Julie clearing her schedule and going to the coffee shop if she wasn’t planning to already.

Their interactions normally go as follows:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink, and gives her a compliment. “I like your jacket.” Julie will blush and avert her eyes, speaking a soft “Thank you” before taking the drink and paying. If she’s feeling confident (normally caused by a good score on a test that day) she’ll compliment him back. “I like your t-shirt” which normally translates to ‘I listen to that band as well.’ Luke will grin and then Julie will walk away.

It drives them both crazy because this is how they actually want their interactions to go:

Julie smiles. Luke smiles back. Luke makes the drink and gives her a compliment. “You look beautiful today.” Julie thanks him and compliments him back with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She takes the drink and pays but before she can walk away Luke stops her. “Do you maybe want to go out sometime?” Julie internally screams but keeps her cool on the outside, not wanting to seem desperate. “Yes, definitely.” They look away bashfully and Julie takes the seat closest to the counter, keeping conversation with Luke for the rest of his shift.

It never happens and it annoys all the regulars who have picked up on their feelings for each other.

Today, Julie finds herself receiving a text from Flynn which is why she is now pedaling in the direction of Sunset Coffee. There is a nice, light wind that rustles her hair as she bikes across the city. She stops in front of her favorite place, kicking down the stand and placing the bike behind the fence. She smiles at Luke, who, as per usual, sends her a grin and a wave from behind the counter.

Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, sit on the table closest to Luke, sending him teasing smiles that cause him to blush. He turns to make Julie’s regular hot chocolate as she takes out the exact change from her wallet. They all eye the exchange, wondering if today will finally be the day one of them makes a move. They are disappointed to see the two exchange nothing more than shy smiles and thank you before Julie walks away and into another room.

Luke turns back to his friends, ready to continue their conversation about the gig on Saturday to find them all glaring at him. He quickly raises his hands up in defense, rushing out a “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” Alex says. Which is followed by “Agreed” and “I second that” by both Reggie and Bobby respectively.

“You’ve been in love with her since the second you laid eyes on her. Even Reggie noticed and he is as oblivious as it gets,” Alex continues. Reggie points his finger in agreement, seemingly ignoring the dig at him.

Luke looks down at his feet, already embarrassed out how glaringly obvious he is. “It’s just,” he pauses and his friends wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “She’s too good for me. I mean she’s applying to universities right now and not just any random colleges, she’s going for the good ones, Ivys, UCs, that’s more than I ever did. I almost failed out of high school. I’m a knock-off Luke Hemmings doing nothing with his life.”

Insecure is not a trait anyone would normally use to describe Luke. Cocky, passionate, attractive? Sure, but never insecure. They’re all even more surprised at his reasons for not asking a girl out. He normally uses the band as a way to attract people to him, he’s never hidden it in shame.

“Luke you are literally one of the most talented people I have ever met,” Bobby starts. “Just because you crave success in something other than academics it doesn’t make you a failure. If she doesn’t realize how insanely amazing you are then she’s not the one and that’s that.” Luke looks up at him and he’s extremely glad that today is a slow day and the shop is basically empty because he’s almost sure he’s about to cry.

“Go ask her out man,” Reggie says.

“And if she says no then you can just go back to working mornings,” Alex offers. Luke throws a dirty dishrag at him and they all laugh. Luke then takes a deep breath and starts making another hot chocolate to take to Julie, almost sure that she is probably already done with hers.

He holds the drink carefully in his hands and makes his way down the hallway, finding her in the chalk wall room. She’s holding a pencil tight in her head and her eyes are closed. She’s tapping her foot at an even beat before suddenly stopping and writing something down. Her open laptop with a half done essay sits abandoned next to her.

Luke taps her shoulder, startling her out of her daze. She smiles up at him and it only widens once she sees the mug he’s carrying.

“I figured you might want another one,” he shrugs his shoulders as she takes it gratefully.

“You know, you don’t have to keep giving me free drinks,” she says before taking a long sip of the warm beverage.

Luke scratches the back of his neck gives himself a mental pep talk, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Well, if I’m being honest, I keep doing it trying to work up the courage to ask you out.” He fiddles with the apron tied around his waist and looks at her, trying to decipher what she’s thinking.

Julie doesn’t know what she’s thinking. The guy she has been simping over for a month just said he wants to ask her out, she focuses her energy on swallowing the sip she already had in her mouth without choking before looking up at him. She gets a sudden wave of confidence (she aced her calculus test) and she opens her mouth to speak. “And have you? Built up the courage I mean.”

She sends him a dazzling smile and Luke is sure that he is about to faint but he manages to keep his composure. “I sure hope so,” he mumbles under his breath before saying, “Julie will you like to go on a date with me?”

“I would love to.” They smile at each other before they both look away, suddenly bashful. “How about Saturday?” Julie suggests.

“Actually my band and I have a gig on Saturday,” Luke says slightly embarrassed but then he remembers what Bobby said and stands up straighter. “Actually, will you like to go? To the gig. It’s nothing big really, it’s in this club but it’s supposed to be really packed on Saturdays so we’re hoping it will be good exposure.”

Julie’s eyes widen in surprise, cursing Flynn for not telling her that Luke is in a band because it suddenly made him a hundred times more attractive. “Yes! Oh my gosh I would love to go. I love music, I’m actually applying to be a music major.” Now it’s Luke’s turn to be surprised.

“You play?” He sits down in front of her, his job suddenly forgotten, but he’s confident that one of the guys will take over if a customer comes in. They’ve seen him make orders enough times to know how to do it.

Julie nods. “The piano, my mom taught me when I was young and I fell in love with it. I don’t know what I want to do with it though so I’m hoping to double major in music and something else.”

Luke quickly realizes that his insecurities were completely misplaced. “That’s really cool. I play guitar and I’m the lead singer. Not that I’m bragging!” He is quick to defend himself, not wanting to seem overly confident and Julie giggles.

“When did you start playing?”

“My parents bought me an acoustic guitar when I was six, hoping that it would make me stop running around the house so much. They never expected their son to refuse to go to college to pursue his rock band though.” Luke shrugs at the end, his parents are supportive of him, they weren’t for a while but they came around and go to a lot of his gigs.

“I think it’s really admirable,” Julie says. Luke raises his eyebrows, a silent request for her to elaborate. “To be so passionate about something, to know what you want to do with that passion, and pursuing it no matter what.”

Luke knows he is blushing and is about to say something when Alex, Reggie, and Bobby, pop their heads into the room.

“Did you do it?”  “Did she say yes?” “Did you choke?” Are all questions his best friends ask. Luke sighs and shakes his head and Julie does her best to bite back a laugh.

“I did do it. She’s coming to the show on Saturday.” His friends cheer and Julie is unable to contain her laughter.

The guys all rush into the room and introduce themselves to Julie keeping her company as Luke goes back to work.

. . .

Julie goes to their show on Saturday, and every single one of their shows after that. And her decision to accept UCLA’s offer in April was definitely not influenced by her relationship with the cute barista.

[mallowstep]

(hand games on the playground court)

"Bubblegum, bubblegum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?"

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11-

"Alright, Featherpaw, you take my place."

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Mistyfoot glances back over her shoulder. "We're going on a little walk."

"But it's dark."

Stonefur meets her eyes. If they get caught taking the kids out, they'll be separated, and then they have no hope of protecting them.

"I know," Mistyfoot says. "It'll be fun. A little adventure."

She squeezes Featherpaw's hand a little tighter, and they cross over the road, making it deeper into the woods. Stonefur fiddles with the cellphone he picked up last time he was in town. They've waited months for a chance to use it.

Stormpaw grabs a twig, dragging it through the dirt, and Featherpaw twists a finger through her hair.

"Hey," Stonefur says. "Yeah, yeah it's me. We're alright, I've got the kids."

Stonefur crouches down, smiling at Featherpaw and Stormpaw. "I've got your dad on the phone," he says, pressing a few buttons. "Okay, Greystripe, you're on speaker."

"Hey, kiddos," Greystripe says. "How are you doing?"

Stonefur passes the phone to Stormpaw, and the kids chatter on about their days. Stonefur stands next to Mistyfoot, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I'm running out of cash," he says, his voice low to avoid the kids' attention. "This might be their last call."

"I'll see what I can find," Mistyfoot says. "We should..."

What should they do? Leopardstar has custody of the kids. They can't take them to Greystripe without getting dragged back here.

Stonefur puts his arm around her shoulders. "We'll figure it out," he says.

On the way back, Mistyfoot reminds the kids that this has to be their secret. They don't ask why.

* * *

Stormpaw hits the ball away from him, watching it bounce twice in the square next to him.

"You're out!" he calls, and they all rotate squares.

"Your serve," someone says. Stormpaw smiles. He doubts he'll be knocked out before recess is over.

* * *

Stonefur taps on the window to the kids' room. Stormpaw opens the window, looking confused.

"Stonefur?"

"Shh," Stonefur hushes. "Quiet, okay?"

"What are you doing here? Tigerstar said you went missing."

"Yeah, I know." Stonefur takes a deep breath. "Where's your sister?"

"I dunno. Mistyfoot took her somewhere."

Fuck. He doesn't know what his sister has planned, but he can't wait for them to get back. He's sure he's already tripped an alarm, and it's only a matter of time before someone finds him.

"Okay," he says, "You and me are going to go on an adventure, okay?"

Stormpaw looks hesitant.

"It'll be fun," Stonefur soothes. "Come on, you get to climb out a window. Isn't that fun?"

Stormpaw clambers out, and Stonefur grabs him. He's too big to carry comfortably, but too young to walk fast enough to make it out. "Piggy back ride, okay?"

"I can walk."

"I know." Stonefur shifts Stormpaw, and closes the window as best he can as Stormpaw wraps his legs and arms around him. His heel kicks into the gouge in his side, but Stonefur does his best not to react.

"Where are we going?" Stormpaw asks, as he treks towards town, turning back over his shoulder every couple of minutes.

"We're going to live with your dad," Stonefur says.

"What about Featherpaw?"

Stonefur adjusts Stormpaw, wrapping his arms under Stormpaw's knees. "I'll go back for her once we get to Greystripe," Stonefur says.

He walks until noon of the next day. They're in a new town, and he forks up enough cash to get them a motel room. Stormpaw's head is resting on his shoulder, and he slides the kid into the bed as gently as he can. Hopefully, he can run to a gas station and back before Stormpaw wakes.

The attendant examines his purchases. Stonefur doesn't have cash to waste on hiding what he's doing. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, sewing kit, and a new burner phone. He's lucky he's wearing a jacket, because he's sure his shirt has been soaked with blood.

Stormpaw wakes when Stonefur opens the door.

"Hey, buddy," he says. "Sleep well?"

"I'm hungry," Stormpaw says.

"I know. I need a minute, and then we'll see if we can't scrounge up something for you to eat."

Stonefur shuts the bathroom door and starts the sink. His side is angry and red, and this is going to hurt like hell.

He doubles numbers in his head, high as he can keep track of, as he cleans it out and stitches it shut. It's not a good job, but he can't afford a doctor.

Stormpaw is fiddling with the TV when he opens the door. He looks at the shoddy stitches. "You should see a doctor."

"I'll be fine," Stonefur says. "Just a second, and then we'll find some food." He dials Greystripe's number. It's been nearly six months since they last called him. "Greystripe, it's me."

"Stonefur?"

"Yeah. Listen, I can't talk for long, but me and Stormpaw are on our way to you."

"What happened? What about Featherpaw?"

Stormpaw hangs upside down off the bed, mouthing along to the theme song of some children's cartoon. Stonefur is surprised he remembers seeing it.

"I didn't have time to get her. It was one or none." Stonefur runs his hand through his hair. He must look half wild. He'll have to clean them both up before they leave, if they want any hope of not attracting attention. "We won't be there for a while. Maybe a few months."

"I can come to you," Greystripe says. "Where are you? Do you need anything?"

"I don't have an ID, I don't have a bank account, and we've gotta keep moving," Stonefur says. "We'll be fine. You're at the same address?"

"Yeah. Can I talk to Stormpaw?"

"Yeah. But listen -- Mistyfoot will take care of Featherpaw. I wouldn't have left her if she would be alone."

"I know." Greystripe is frustrated, angry, even, and Stonefur can't blame him. "Keep in contact, okay?"

"Yeah. Don't talk for too long. I only have so many minutes."

* * *

Tawnypaw is jumping.

"For all have sinned and fall short in the glory of God," they chant, Tawnypaw jumping on every other syllable.

It's fall, and they're not back in school. Tigerstar says it's a bad influence and probably why Stormpaw left and he won't risk any more children being corrupted.

* * *

Maybe Mistyfoot should be more surprised when she's moved into a new room with Featherpaw. But it feels par for the course. Tigerstar has been livid ever since Stormpaw and Stonefur ran (or since Stonefur died, he keeps changing the story and Mistyfoot isn't sure which one is true), and cramming them in a windowless barely-more-than-a-closet feels about right.

Featherpaw is seemingly unbothered.

"He's isolating us," she explains. ""Cause our brothers were bad so we're probably bad so he doesn't want it to spread."

Mistyfoot cradles Featherpaw against her. "We're not bad," she says. "Our brothers aren't either." She runs her hand through Featherpaw's hair. It's tangled, but she doesn't have a brush.

"Tigerstar says we are," Featherpaw says. "Says we need to do a penance-" she slows down over that word, like she is making sure she has the right pronunciation "-so that our souls will be clean again."

Mistyfoot kisses the top of Featherpaw's head. "We don't need to do anything," she says. "Tigerstar doesn't know what he's talking about."

Featherpaw shrugs, like she doesn't want to argue but still thinks Mistyfoot is wrong. "He didn't let me bring my book," she says, her nose scrunching. "I was in the middle of a chapter."

* * *

"Last piece of cake," Stonefur says. "Who gets it?"

It's Stormpaw's tenth birthday. He hasn't celebrated his birthday since he was five, but Stonefur brought a cake back to their room and said they were celebrating this year.

"We should...thumb wrestle over it."

Stonefur smiles, but Stormpaw is pretty sure Stonefur lets him win. But Stormpaw doesn't touch the piece of cake.

"You won," Stonefur says, "don't you want it?"

"It's Featherpaw's birthday too," Stormpaw says.

Stonefur's jaw tightens, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. He rubs Stormpaw's shoulder.

* * *

Stonefur steals a car in late December. It's too cold to walk, and they're both exhausted, and he doesn't have the money he needs to buy one.

He'd be ashamed, but he doesn't have another choice. Stormpaw sits in the passenger seat, even though he's definitely too young for that, and Stonefur passes him a map.

"Ready, navigator?"

"Ready."

* * *

"Concentration!" Featherpaw says, "sixty-four!"

Mistyfoot doesn't know any games, so Featherpaw is teaching her all the ones she knows. Tigerstar hasn't let her go back for her book, or let her take any of the worksheets they've been doing back to their room, and Featherpaw doesn't have a long enough piece of string to do a cat's cradle. "I go first, you follow." Mistyfoot is watching Featherpaw carefully, but she's doing the motion fine. This is an easy game, anyway. There's nothing going on. It's mostly about the words.

"Category is...animals."

Mistyfoot smiles.

"Sheep."

"Mouse."

"Cow."

"Dog."

"Cat."

Someone bangs on the door. "Will the two of you shut up?"

* * *

Tigerstar places his hand on the small of her back.

"I hope you're doing well, Mistyfoot. I'm sure it's been hard, losing your brother like that."

Tigerstar sighs, using his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. "It just goes to show you, you never can be sure about who's loyal."

* * *

That summer, Stormpaw draws a hopscotch grid on the driveway. Greystripe has bought him chalk, and markers, and a new backpack and more than the two sets of clothes he had been washing out in bathroom sinks.

"There aren't really any neighbourhood kids to play with," Greystripe says, "but if you're okay with winning all the time, I'll play."

[bluescreeningart]

How To Fix A Boob Gap On A Button Up

Beginner Friendly

Have you ever purchased a men's fit shirt but you have boobs? Have you ever purchased a women's fit shirt but you have bigger boobs than it was designed for? If so, you've probably experienced the dreaded boob gap, where the buttons are specifically arranged to allow the shirt to gape when you move around too much. But never fear! Here's a quick and dirty tutorial for how to fix this issue in a neat, invisible manner. You don't need any sewing experience for this - I'll explain everything.

Note - This is a re-upload. The original got reblogged in some unsavoury circles and I didn’t want to deal with it. My blog will always be a safe space for trans people of all shapes and sizes!

You Will Need:

A Shirt (yes, really)

Snap Fasteners (one or two depending on how many gaping areas you have. make sure they're a reasonable size, not too big and not too small)

Thread (try to match it to your shirt but since this method is invisible it doesn't need to be precise)

Needle (size doesn't matter too much but keep it on the smaller size)

Safety pin/fabric chalk/something else to mark fabric with

Method:

1) Mark where you need a fastener. You may need to fix two gaps, or if it's tight-fitting you could put two fasteners in one gap to make it stronger. Here I'm just putting one fastener in one gap. Place the marker on the side with buttons on it.

2) Thread your needle. It helps to put the end of the thread between your thumb and forefinger and sort of roll it into the eye of the needle, but in the end it takes practice to get it right. Pull through a good few cm of thread to keep it unthreading while you sew, then tie a chunky knot in the long end.

3) Start to sew on the 'female' side of the fastener. Make sure your starting knot is on the back side of the fabric, push the needle up through the fabric into the hole on the edge of the fastener, loop it over and back down again, repeat. Sew as much as you can to keep it secure. Then move onto the next hole at the edge of the fastener.

4) Once the fastener is fully secure, tie the thread off at the back. Do a single running stitch through the fabric, then use the needle to tie a knot as shown below. Repeat this a few times before cutting the thread. Give it a tug - it should stay put! Now you're halfway there.

5) Position the 'male' side of the fastener. You're sewing this on the INSIDE of the side of the shirt with button holes, so fold over the edge. Make sure it's lined up as closely as possible. This picture also shows how your 'female' side should look completed.

6) Sew on the 'male' fastener without any visible stitches. This sounds hard, but it's possible, I promise! Tie a new knot in the end of your thread and go in from the inside of the shirt. Don't go all the way through, just catch the top layer of fabric then come back up again. If you turn over your fabric you shouldn't be able to see any thread. You can then thread on your fastener and keep going like you did on the other side. This part is a little fiddly but I promise you can do it! It doesn't matter how it looks on the inside, just keep checking the outside to make sure you haven't gone through. Once you're done, tie off the same as you did before, but on the inside, and you're finished!

I forgot to take 'before' pics, but here's an image with the fastener undone (I'm wearing a tank top underneath you nasty):

And here's what it looks like done up. I'm in the same pose in both pictures. Problem solved! From the front you can't see the fastener at all, or tell it's there.

If you need any further tips or guidance let me know and I'll be happy to help!

[hotpinkhoshi]

the pact (4)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: explicit sex, cursing, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial

word count: 6.3k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: first of all i hope everyone had a great holiday and a happy new year 😘 i was verrrry busy which is why this update is a bit delayed. thank you guys for being patient with me while i get my shit together! i hope you enjoy this part because i loved writing it. also please check out the playlist i made for parts 1-4 right here :) 

↳ index here

Jinyoung: Y/N Jinyoung: I need you to come over immediately Jinyoung: It’s an emergency

You: what?? what’s wrong??? You: …. You: this isn’t like a sex emergency right

Jinyoung: No. Please just come over.

“What’s wrong? What’s the emergency?” you asked urgently as you slipped inside of Jinyoung’s apartment. 

Jinyoung welcomed you in, and the first thing you noticed was his casual attire—gray joggers, a hunter green hoodie, and a pair of wire rimmed glasses you hadn’t seen him wear since high school. It also looked like he’d just recently gotten out of the shower, judging by the damp locks of hair clinging to his temples.

Funny enough, your own outfit mirrored his. A gray sweatshirt and black joggers. After all, you had been halfway ready for bed by the time he texted you, even though it wasn’t really that late. It was Sunday night, you’d spent all weekend working and you weren’t ashamed to call it a night before ten o’clock. 

“I have… two hours,” Jinyoung started, glancing at his watch and then back at you, “to pack for a week and a half in New York.”

You blinked at him. “You what?”

Jinyoung let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed your hand, tugging you back towards his bedroom. You nearly passed out from shock at the state of disarray that greeted you; suitcase wide open on the floor, piles of clothes everywhere, shampoo bottles laying around haphazardly. Never, in all the years you’d known him, had you seen his room anything but spotless—not even in that shitty third floor walk up he and Jackson lived in before they both got grown up jobs. 

“Why does it look the toiletries aisle threw up all over your room, Jinyoung?” 

Jinyoung, frazzled as you’d ever seen him, ruffled the back of his own hair harshly. “My boss called me an hour ago asking if I’d go to this convention because the girl that was meant to do it got mono. So now I’m flying to New York in four hours.” 

Your eyes lit up as you smacked his chest excitedly. “That’s great!”

He’d mentioned the convention a few times in the last few weeks. He was excited about it, you knew that much, but that was when his responsibility was to organize the event from afar. In your opinion, it sounded like your personal heaven. Thousands of avid book readers came from all over the world, just to share their excitement over books. You couldn’t imagine anything better.

He groaned, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s terrible. You know I hate unexpected surprises, Y/N. What if I screw it up?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not going to happen. They probably asked you to do it because they know you’re capable. You’re basically the head of your department, right?”

Jinyoung shrugged modestly. “I mean, yeah. I’ve been in charge of planning the entire thing for the last two months.”

“Exactly. So it’ll be fine—you worry far too much. Now, how can I help with… all of this?” You looked around at the chaos dispersed throughout his bedroom, not sure where to start. 

Jinyoung took in a deep, calming breath, then pointed to the pile of clean clothes on the floor next to the suitcase. “If you can put those clothes in the packing cubes and get them into the suitcase—why are you laughing?”

You covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laugh as you sat in front of his pile of clothing. “Nothing. I just… of course you use packing cubes.”

Jinyoung pursed his lips—giving you his trademark unamused look. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m in a crisis.” 

“You’re so dramatic. I swear.” You rolled your eyes at him, lips forming a smirk. “Stop scowling at me and get to packing, mister.” 

Jinyoung mumbled something under his breath, which sounded a lot like not the boss of me, and they’re practical but you couldn’t be too sure. Still, he settled on his bed, picking out items from the massive pile of mini sized hair and skin products and stuffing them into a travel bag. 

Comfortable silence filled the room as you two focused on your separate tasks, but you could practically hear Jinyoung’s racing thoughts from across the room. It was almost annoying how well you could read his emotions, which you chalked up to your many years of friendship. 

But you knew he’d feel better once the daunting task of packing was done with, so you sorted his clothing as he asked. Once the cubes were full of his clothes, folded and organized into his suitcase, you stood from the floor and crawled onto the bed. 

You perched on your knees behind him, leaning your chin onto his shoulder. He smelled nice, you noticed. Like fresh linen. “Are you done yet?”

He grunted, shaking his head as he tossed a bottle of face moisturizer into his bag with more force than necessary.

You hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can I interest you in a short distraction? Since you’ll be gone for… how long again?” 

Jinyoung didn’t respond, just continued stuffing items into travel sized bags as if he didn’t hear you. You pouted, squeezing him tighter. His entire body was tense, from his shoulders down to his abs. 

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his hands to pull them into his lap. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” 

He just lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Just don’t want to screw it up,” he mumbled. 

You sighed and shifted next to him, crawling into his lap to straddle his waist. Reaching for his chin, you lifted his eyes to yours. You would’ve had to be blind not to see how nervous he was about this.

“Hey,” you said again. “That’s not going to happen. Trust me. Remember that time, in college, we both wrote down the wrong date for our European Lit exam and we were completely blindsided when we walked into class? You passed with a 96. You’re great under pressure, Jinyoung. You’re smart, you work hard, and you’re quick on your feet.” 

Jinyoung’s features, ever so slightly, softened as he listened to you. He knew you were right. You had seen him come out on top of so many stressful situations, and you knew this time was no different. 

“What’d you get on that exam? I don’t think you ever told me.” 

You cringed at the memory. The big, fat red marker the teacher had used to scribble your nearly failing grade across your test flashed in your mind. “65. Dad lectured me for about three hours about that one.” 

“Ouch,” Jinyoung began, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. It seemed he was already feeling better. “Maybe I should have tutored you. I could have gotten you some extra credit…” 

Though it was his attempt at trying to sound sexy, it just came off cheesy and you couldn’t help but snort. “You’re lucky you’re really good in bed, because your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.” 

Jinyoung grinned, leaning in to nip at your neck. “Hmm,” he hummed against your skin, hands slipping up the back of your hoodie. “All I heard was really good in bed.”

“Mm,” you tilted your head, allowing him more space to kiss your neck. You didn’t even care about the marks he could leave. “Did I say that? I meant terrible in bed. Like, so bad.” You smiled at the laugh he pressed into your skin.

You shivered as he grazed his fingertips up and down your spine, goosebumps forming wherever he touched. No matter how many times he put his hands on you, it never stopped having such an effect on you. 

The last month, after Bambam’s party, you’d set out three rules for yourself: no cuddling, no sleeping over, and no unnecessary kissing. So far, you’d held your ground. If Jinyoung noticed anything weird, he didn’t show it. Just nodded and walked you to the door each time you chose not to sleep over. 

But the sex was still worth keeping your arrangement. Jinyoung had shown you a side of yourself you weren’t aware of until now, and you couldn’t deny he made you feel desirable in a way that was totally new. You had no hesitation telling him what you wanted or needed in order to feel good—unlike how you’d been in past relationships. 

“So how about that distraction?” you whispered, threading your fingers through Jinyoung’s hair and pushing it away from his face. 

He laughed again. “We don’t have time.” 

You stuck your lip out, pulling back enough to look at him. “Yes we do. I’m not going to see you for almost two weeks, can’t I just… have something to remember you by?” 

Jinyoung glanced at the clock on his wall, then back at you. The clock, then you again. “Alright, fine. You’re lucky you’re really good in bed.”

Your pout turned into a pleased grin. “I know.” 

To shut you up, he reached for your sweatshirt to pull off, throwing the material to the floor. He cursed under his breath when he saw you were completely bare under your hoodie. “God. I swear you live to drive me insane.” 

“Hmm, maybe, maybe not,” you said, as you slipped your hands back into his hair and gave the strands a firm tug. 

“Fuck,” he started, hands squeezing your hips. “Want to come to New York with me? Just curl up in my suitcase?” 

You laughed, hips rolling down against him almost instinctively, craving more contact. “Sounds uncomfortable.” 

“Mm,” he shook his head and leaned in, kissing across your chest. “Don’t know how I’ll live without these.” 

“By ‘these’ do you mean my boobs?” 

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re dumb,” you replied with a laugh, hands traveling down his torso until you could tug his sweatshirt off of him. “I’ll send you a picture every day, just so you don’t miss them too much.” 

Jinyoung flipped you over onto your back, kicking his pile of toiletries out of the way and cringing at the sound of about a thousand lotion bottles falling to the floor. “You’re too good to me.” 

“I know,” you responded, quick to remove his shirt as well, revealing the toned torso you never got sick of seeing. “You’re so lucky to have me.” 

“Something like that,” he said as he looked down at you, eyes shining with desire. His hips were grinding into yours so perfectly, the bulge in his sweats pressing into your center just right. 

Your eyes fell shut as you groaned, only encouraging him to push into you with more force. He could bring you to the edge just like this, and you made a mental note to test that theory someday. Tonight, though, you wanted him inside of you. 

Jinyoung leaned down, closing his mouth around one of your nipples and rolling his tongue over the hardened peak, over and over. You arched into him, wanting more. In a matter of minutes, he’d already reduced you to a pliant mess underneath of him. 

His mouth traveled downwards and more bottles were knocked to the floor, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d clean up the mess later. He sucked a hickey into your hip as he pulled off your joggers, making you shiver when the cold air hit your skin. 

“The snowmen underwear,” Jinyoung mused, a smirk on his lips. You’d forgotten you had grabbed those from your drawer today--the same pair you’d worn the first night you slept together. At this point, you’d given up trying to always be wearing sexy underwear when you’d see Jinyoung. He truly did not care what you had under your clothes, as he reminded you so many times. 

“Shut up,” you told him, squirming your hips as he stared up at you. 

“They’re cute,” he said, just as he did that first night. “I might rip them off you, though. Wanna fuck you so bad.” He leaned down, licking right up the line of your covered slit. 

You bit back a moan and gripped the sheets underneath of you, already feeling restless with need. 

“It’s a shame we’re tight on time,” he muttered, nose nudging against your clit. “I’d love to spend the whole night between your thighs. Just tasting you, making you crazy…”

You wouldn’t have minded that at all. Jinyoung was a perfectionist, and it was never more apparent than when he had his mouth on you, determined to make you feel good. It was an experience, every single time. 

When he finally pulled your underwear off, he glanced up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your panties dangled off his index finger. “Want to give me something to remember you by?” 

You stared down at him, skeptical. “Yes…?” 

Jinyoung sat up on his knees, balling up your underwear and tossing it into his opened suitcase. You gaped up at him, reaching to hit his arm. “Jinyoung! You can’t steal my underwear!” 

He laughed, leaning back down to hover over you. “I didn’t steal them. You said yes. Come on, please?” 

“You’re so weird,” you told him, relenting. As shocked as you were, you couldn’t deny that it was hot, him wanting to take your panties along across the world just to remember you by. Whatever that meant. 

“Shh, tight on time, remember?” he dipped down to kiss you, smiling against your lips and causing you to do the same. 

Your hands roamed his body, trying to memorize the lines and curves of his skin just so that you wouldn’t forget. It would be the longest you’d gone without seeing Jinyoung since you started sleeping together two months ago. At this point, you knew his body better than your own. You were going to miss it. 

“Hey,” you spoke against his lips, pulling away to push his hair away from his eyes. “This is the first time you’ve fucked me with glasses on.” 

“And?” he asked, thick brows pushed together. 

You shrugged. “And I think you look hot. You’re like my sexy, visually impaired teacher.” 

Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed slightly just before he rolled them. “Oh, I see, you think you’re special because you have perfect vision.” 

You grinned up at him. “At least I said you were sexy.” 

He grumbled, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip. “Careful, or you’ll get detention.” 

You stifled a laugh, which further annoyed him. “Sorry. Not funny.” 

Jinyoung hated to be teased, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help getting a kick out of it. You loved that grumpy, unamused frown he threw at you whenever you challenged him. 

“Turn over.” 

You raised your brows, smile dropping from your lips. Oh. He looked down at you, eyes darkening with that familiar lustful glare. Your breath hitched in your chest as you flipped over onto your stomach, laying sideways on the bed with your ankles dangling off one end. 

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he pressed down onto your shoulders with a light pressure to keep you down. “Face down.” 

A tingle spread down your body, right to your core. What had started as a playful joke was quickly turning into something more, something you’d only fantasized about late at night when you were alone. 

Jinyoung sat on his knees, straddling your thighs, his weight just barely resting on you. Your heart was pounding in anticipation. His fingertips grazed down your back, starting between your shoulder blades until he was brushing against the curve of your lower back. 

“I thought we didn’t have much time?” you asked, turning your head to look back at him with one cheek pressed into his blankets. 

He glared down at you. “Every time you talk back to me, that’s one.” 

You gulped. “One what?” 

He barely hesitated before his hand came down against the center of your ass cheek. You whimpered, pressing your face into the blankets. The sting only lasted for a moment before you felt a pulse of pleasure low in your stomach. 

“Now,” Jinyoung started, his hand massaging the area where he’d just smacked. You took a deep breath in, desperately trying to keep your hips from squirming. “Are you going to be good for me?” 

You nodded vigorously, stealing a glance behind you. The look on his face reminded you of how he’d looked after Bambam’s party, demanding you to touch yourself. A look you’d thought about many, many times since. 

He shocked you when he smacked your ass again, your back arching involuntarily. “Use your words, angel.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good.” 

You were certain if his hand drifted down the few inches away from your ass to your entrance, he would feel just how wet he’d made you already. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I believe you. You don’t always listen. Always trying to make it difficult for me, aren’t you?” 

You shook your head. “N-no. I wanna be good for you, Jinyoung.” 

His tongue ran over his bottom lip slowly, giving you that familiar predatory gaze. “You’re gonna have to prove it to me.” His hands were massaging your ass again, stopping to squeeze the soft flesh every now and then. 

“How?” You asked, fear and arousal blooming in your chest. You knew whatever he had in store for you wouldn’t be easy.

Jinyoung trailed his right hand up your back again, pushing your hair aside so that you could see him without any obstruction. “Don’t come. No matter what.” 

Again, you swallowed hard. You wouldn’t be good at this game and you both knew it. He got you so hot so fast that you could never hold back, which wasn’t usually a problem, until now.

His hand traveled down your back, fingers grazing over the curve of your ass until they slipped down to your entrance. You watched his face, enthralled, as he gathered the wetness that had already dripped out of you and brought it to his lips to taste. You moaned. 

Jinyoung looked down at you, smirking. “Oh, that’s not a good sign. I barely even touched you. Try to control yourself, okay, baby? You can do it.” 

You bit down onto your lip again, nodding at him as you slid your hands up underneath of your head, gripping his blankets. “Okay.” 

When he finally slipped his fingers inside of you, your eyes fell shut. Only two fingers and you could tell you were squeezing around him, your current position doing nothing to give him easier access. 

He began a slow, torturous pace inside of you with his two fingers, scissoring them inside of you every few thrusts. You were whining and moaning into the blankets, your fingernails digging into the fabric. 

“So fucking tight. I wish you could see what I’m seeing right now—it’s heavenly.” 

You pressed your forehead into the blankets, teeth pressed hard into your lower lip as he twisted his fingers, turning his hand so that his thumb could massage your clit. You couldn’t help rolling your hips towards his fingers, wanting him deeper inside. 

“Jinyoung, please...” you whispered. 

“Hm? What was that?” he asked, squeezing your ass with his free hand. “You want more?” 

You opened your eyes to look back at him again and nodded. “Please.” 

The sight of him was enough to have your walls clenching on his fingers again. Eyebrows knitted together, completely focused on fucking into you with the perfect pace. The glasses were really just an added bonus. 

With no warning, he slipped a third finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” you groaned loudly, arching your back and fighting to spread your legs, even though they were caged in by Jinyoung’s thighs. 

This earned you another smack, followed by a gentle caress. 

“You’re not controlling yourself very well, are you, angel?” 

You fought back a sob and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry, I just-” you couldn’t finish your sentence, because Jinyoung had curled his fingers inside of you on his next thrust, pressing into your g-spot. 

Then he did it again. And again. 

You had never tried for anything as hard as you were now, desperately trying to keep your orgasm at bay. Heat spread through your entire body but you fought it, even though it made tears form in the corners of your eyes, even though it felt like you were about to explode. 

Jinyoung was receptive, he knew your body well enough that he knew just how close you were and how much effort you were putting into denying your body what it wanted so badly. 

He finally withdrew his fingers from you, but not without another harsh spank. His hands immediately soothed your skin, gently massaging your flesh as he leaned down over your back, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades.

“Such a good girl. You did so good.” 

You melted under his touch as your orgasm retreated. It had been so close, you wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he’d continued. Your skin burned where his hand had made contact and you knew it would hurt to sit tomorrow. 

“Want to stay like this, baby? Looks like it hurts.” 

You nodded with a pout, unfolding your arms from under your chest and stretching them above your head, relieving some of the tension from clenching the sheets in your fists. 

Jinyoung didn’t waste much time, pushing his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs. He looked hard as a rock, and you cursed the fact that you didn’t have enough time to give him a goodbye blowjob. The sight practically had your mouth watering. 

Then he was scooting up your legs, until the head of his cock nudged in between your thighs. He slid between your flesh a few times easily, as your skin was covered with the juices that had dripped out of you. 

You both let out satisfied moans once he slid inside your heat, already wet and beyond ready for him as you always were. 

Jinyoung leaned over you, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of your shoulders. With the rest of his weight resting on his knees, he rolled his hips towards you, pushing his length inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you moaned. It felt new, this depth that he’d reached inside of you. You leaned up on your forearms to arch yourself to a better angle, hips lifting up slightly. 

You were grateful he wasn’t gentle with you, you couldn’t handle that right now. You needed him, quick and deep, and that’s exactly the pace he began inside of you. The only sound in the room was his skin slapping yours and the desperate, throaty moans and pleas for more, more, more. 

Jinyoung ducked his head down to press kisses to your shoulder. It was the affection you needed, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that he was leaving you. Only for a week and a half, but at the moment you couldn’t imagine living without him inside of you for one minute. That was how crazy he made you. 

“Jinyoung,” you begged, bending onto your elbow so that you could grip a hold of his arm next to you. Your name fell from his lips in response, over and over. You craned your neck to find his lips for a messy kiss, somewhat awkward from the angle, but it brought you even closer to the edge. 

“Close?” he asked against your lips before pulling away to press kisses against your jaw. You nodded, squeezing his arm tightly until your fingernails dug into his skin. 

Your nerves were on fire as the familiar tension built inside of you, beginning at your rib cage until it spread lower and lower. Jinyoung lowered onto his elbows until his front was pressed to your back, his hips never slowing or relenting. 

“Gonna come,” Jinyoung said with a groan, digging his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, the sharp pain sending a wave of electricity right to your clit. 

As the tension in your body snapped, you finally allowed yourself to tip over the edge, made more intense by the sensation of Jinyoung reaching his orgasm as well. Your thighs shook as you took every drop from him, letting him fill you. Your own climax hit you like a ton of bricks, fast and hard, your body quivering underneath of him in waves. 

Your body fell limp under his as you finally relaxed, absolutely exhausted from your orgasm. Jinyoung panted behind you, his lips still kissing your skin and whispering how good you were for him, how you fit him perfectly. You wished you weren’t in a daze, or you would have been able to focus on the husky, fucked out tone of his voice. 

Finally, he rolled off to the side, pulling his sweatpants back up over his hips. You were too worn out to move yet, so you just laid there on your stomach while you heard Jinyoung get up for a washcloth. He was always quick to clean you up and you were eternally grateful, especially now. You were pretty sure he’d just taken years off of your life. 

You let him move you however he needed in order to clean you up, and as Jinyoung tossed the washcloth to the side, he stared down at you with raised brows. 

“You okay?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“Mm,” you replied, arms unwinding from underneath yourself again to stretch them out, wiggling your fingers. “You just fucked the life out of me. Officially.” 

Jinyoung chuckled, a hand caressing your back as he laid on his side next to you. “Do you think it was the glasses?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You opened your eyes to look at him, your lips spreading into a grin. “Probably.” 

Even though you had a no cuddling rule, and a no unnecessary kissing rule, you didn’t fight it when Jinyoung brought you into his arms and melted your lips together. 

You blamed it on your exhausted state. 

~~~

“Forrest Gump! Forrest Gump!” Sana whisper-shouted, slapping her pencil down on the restaurant table. “Why isn’t anyone listening to me?!” 

“Because you’re wrong,” Yugyeom replied. “It’s Shawshank Redemption.” 

You sat between Bambam and Jackson in the crowded diner booth as Sana and Yugyeom argued across from you. This was how it’d gone all night. It had been Yugyeom’s bright idea to participate in a trivia night instead of your usual movie night for the month and you were quickly regretting it. 

Jinyoung hated trivia games and never wanted to go when it was suggested, which you suspected was because he hated being wrong. Now that he was away on business, you’d decided to give it a try. It had been a mistake.

Yugyeom was, apparently, fiercely competitive, which would have been okay if Sana wasn’t exactly the same way. You wanted to win, sure, but your two friends were starting to get out of hand with their arguing and butting heads. 

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to get them to simmer down. People had been staring at you all night, clearly bothered by the constant bickering. “Someone just write down an answer because he’s coming around to get our sheets!” 

Yugyeom snatched the pencil from Sana, scribbling down his favored answer just in time for the host to collect your papers. It was the last round, and you had been in first place the last time they’d checked scores. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Sana sneered, crossing her arms. 

“Oh my God, stop,” you told her, slapping her arm lightly. “It’s just a game! And here we thought Jinyoung would be the problem.” 

The familiar fluttering bloomed in your heart as you spoke his name, which you did your best to shove down just as you had for the last five days since Jinyoung had been gone. You tried to convince yourself your body missed him, not you specifically. 

You pulled out your phone as soon as the host announced you were free to do so, scrolling through your texts until you found your message with Jinyoung. You’d been talking a lot this last week. The convention was this weekend, and in New York it was about time for him to be waking up to get ready.

You: so… we decided to go to trivia tonight You: it’s a blood bath in here

Jinyoung: Ugh. Trivia. 

You: yeah yeah. good morning, by the way :)

Jinyoung: Good morning. How was your day? 

You: good. busy, but in a good way You: are you excited for today??

Jinyoung: Excited? No. Prepared? Also no. But I’m ready to just get on with it already. 

You: it’s gonna be so much fun!!! you get to talk about books all day!!!!!

Jinyoung: Ugh. It’s way too early in my day for all those exclamation points

You: soooo dramaticcccccccc

Jinyoung: Hey, be nice to me, I’m nervous

You: okay okay. you’re going to do great today you know

Jinyoung: I’ll do my best. 

You: shhh. it’ll be great. i’ll stay up late tonight in case you need to call me.

Jinyoung: Good. I miss you. 

“Why are you making that face?” Sana asked, snapping you out of your text trance. 

Your head shot up and you looked around with wide eyes. You’d literally forgotten where you were in the last five minutes. 

“Huh? What face?” 

“Are you… blushing?” Sana replied. “Who are you texting?! It better not be-”

“It’s not Jaebeom!” you said, defensively. 

You hadn’t even talked to him since Bambam’s party when you’d left him on the dance floor. You still felt guilty, but couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to him and open that can of worms. 

“Who is it?” 

You brought your phone to your chest, hiding the screen from your friends. Yugyeom looked confused, Bambam looked mildly amused, and Jackson was eating cheese fries. It truly summed up your friendship. 

“No one.” 

A look of hurt flashed in Sana’s eyes. “Why won’t you tell me who it is?” 

You deflated a bit. It had been difficult in more ways than one having to keep your arrangement with Jinyoung a secret from Sana and the rest of your friends. You hated lying, period, but especially to your best friend. 

“Because it’s…” you looked around at the rest of the table, then down at your phone. “It’s not, like… a real thing.”

“She’s texting Jinyoung!”

Your head whipped in Jackson’s direction. He had blurted the words out like word vomit, and now looked as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. 

“Were you looking at my phone?!” you asked, feeling somewhat violated. 

“No!” he replied. “I’ve known for…” his eyes looked upward as he counted on his fingers. “Six weeks.” 

“Six weeks?! You’ve been dating Jinyoung for six weeks?” Sana asked, her jaw practically dropping to the table. 

You cleared your throat. “Two months. And we’re not dating! We’re just having sex.”

Sana stared blankly at you, not even noticing when the trivia hosts began going over the correct answers. “I knew you were seeing someone, I just thought it was Jaebeom. What… how…?”

“Wait, when did you find out?” you asked Jackson. 

“Well…” he looked down, heaving a deep breath. “At Bambam’s party, he chewed me out in the bathroom for dancing with you and being, you know, touchy. I feared for my life, but also figured something had to be going on for him to get jealous like that. I asked him the next day and he spilled everything.”

You had no idea he’d gotten angry with Jackson. If anything, you’d assumed all his anger had been directed at you. And, besides, you’d settled it later on at his apartment. 

“Hold on,” Yugyeom cut in. “You’re not dating Jinyoung, you’re just sleeping together? Like… friends with benefits?” 

You shrugged. “Yeah. We were both lonely and trying to get over feelings for other people, so we figured…” 

Sana was rubbing her temples, clearly having a tough time coming to terms with this revelation. “Just sleeping together?”

“Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe? People do it all the time.”

“Uh, no. I don’t know anyone that started sleeping with their friend of ten years so they can get over their crush, also of ten years. This is possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Okay, it’s really not that bad. It’s casual, we're just having fun.”

“Are you telling her that or yourself?” Jackson interrupted. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You held your hands up. “This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone. We knew you’d all be judgmental and worry that I’m going to get hurt-“

“Maybe you aren’t the one we’re worried about!”

The entire table fell silent, all eyes on Sana. Including the trivia host, who’d just announced that the correct answer to the last question had been Forrest Gump. 

When the chatter started to pick up again and another team was crowned the winner, you shook your head, confused. 

“What do you mean? Why would you be worried about Jinyoung?”

You looked around at your friends, but nobody would meet your eyes. Jackson looked especially tortured, clearly conflicted with his loyalty to you and Jinyoung separately. 

Finally, Sana sighed, relaxing back into her seat. “A few years ago, when you had gone home for your mom’s birthday, we all went out one night. The four of us, Jinyoung, and Yeri. Those two started bickering about an hour in, and Yeri ended up leaving. So Jinyoung got absolutely hammered, and we went to some shady pizza place to sober up. Before we even got our pizza, he told us how he’d liked you since middle school, but was ready to finally give up because you were obsessed with Jaebeom and you’d never see him that way. He vowed to get over you if it was the last thing he did.” 

You could only blink at your friend. It all sounded… not right. How could he have liked you without your knowledge? When had he stopped liking you? It made no sense. 

“But he was with Yeri then,” was all you could say. 

“Yes, he was,” Jackson replied. “And he’d been texting you all night before she got pissed off and left.” 

It had never, not even once, occurred to you that Jinyoung had feelings for you. Certainly not before you started having sex. You’d been friends, and he had never crossed any lines with you, even after he and Yeri broke up. 

“I don’t…” you shook your head, staring down at Jinyoung’s last message. 

I miss you. 

“Listen, I don’t know when he stopped liking you, but this just… doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Sana reached for your hand across the table and gave it a squeeze. “Is it worth risking your friendship?” 

The question had entered your mind more times than you could count in the last two months. But after a while, you’d just gotten used to it. You liked the bubble you lived in, where you could just enjoy the present without worrying about the consequences. 

Your heart felt like it was going to drop into your stomach.

“If it helps,” Bambam said, placing a comforting hand on your wrist. “I was blacked out that night and had no fucking clue until just now.” 

It didn’t help. You just shook your head again, reaching down between your feet for your purse. “I need to go. Sorry. I just need…”

You never finished your sentence. Jackson let you out of the booth and you rushed out of the diner, greeted by the warm summer air. You placed your hand between your ribs, willing your heart to slow its pounding.  

So, he’d liked you. For a while. At least until a few years ago—while he was with Yeri. Why hadn’t he ever said anything? 

Would it have mattered? You had tunnel vision for Jaebeom until this whole arrangement had begun, and you’d never seen Jinyoung in that way before that first night. You knew yourself, you would have let him down easy and continued chasing after Jaebeom. 

You started to walk in the direction of your apartment. It was a long walk, but it was doable. You needed the time to clear your head. 

More puzzle pieces started to fall into place the more you thought about it. 

He and Jaebeom had been so close, like brothers, until you graduated high school. Then Jinyoung started getting a sour look whenever you asked about the other boy and you learned to avoid the topic. 

Yeri had never liked you. It hurt your feelings the entire span of their relationship, because you couldn’t figure out why. If she knew how Jinyoung felt, or even suspected it... of course she wouldn’t like you. 

As much as you wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding, you couldn’t deny the truth staring you in the face. Jinyoung had liked you for years, and you had no idea. 

You needed to figure out your own heart. You didn’t have feelings for him, you were sure of it. It was just biological—good sex messed with your head, that’s all. 

And yet…

The only thing that made sense was that Jinyoung no longer felt this way about you. He’d decided to get over you, and you knew he accomplished any goal he set his mind to. 

You should have felt relief, but you didn’t. You couldn’t quite identify the sadness in your heart, the utter hollowness at missing something you never knew you could’ve had. 

When you finally got back to your apartment, both your mind and your feet were tired. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, wiping off your makeup and brushing your hair into a ponytail. 

Maybe it was your exhaustion. Maybe you were tired, in general, of holding that barrier up. The one thing separating you from what could either be the best thing that ever happened to you, or soul crushing heartbreak.

As you crawled into bed and pulled your knees up to your chest, you finally let the wall come down and held the feeling that fell into your palms safe and close to your heart like a firefly. Just this once, you recognized the terrifying truth you’d been denying for weeks.

You were falling in love. 

[little-boats-studies]

Okay, so moving on! I surround my study space with things I like to have/see because it really shouldn’t be a place I want to escape from. The more comfortable it looks to me, the more I want to actually sit down here to study.

I think the calendar chalkboard has been super helpful, especially when I’m trying to keep track of dates. I’m super forgetful, so it’s really helpful to have a way to see what’s coming up and what I need to plan for right in front of me. Also, I really like chalk/markers but we’re not gonna talk about that right now...

Lamps! Super useful! I’m lucky because my desk has a built in light thing, but sometimes it just isn’t enough. I like this lamp because it feels like a spotlight for my homework and it has a wireless charger for my phone! Double win! It’s easily adjustable so I can move it around to focus anywhere I need it to.

PENS AND PENCILS. Gosh. This.... If you are a student, I really recommend always having a plethora of pens or pencils on hand. I actually have way too many, so I got a bit creative with how I store them. I mainly use this old puzzle box from when I was a kid to hold a lot of pencils, but a lot of stores sell these little boxes in all sorts of sizes and colors if that fits your style. I also really love one pencil holder because I made it from an old soda can! Just cut off the top with a can opener and bam, new pencil holder!

Technically, this doesn’t count as my desk, but I still think it’s good to mention. I use a gamer chair for studying, but because I’m so short and the desk has those fixed sides, I use a lil cushion. It helps me comfortably reach my desk while also being stylish and comfy.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: Rushbelle. Belle is missing Earth. Rush manages to put his foot in it until he learns the deeper reason for Belle’s distress. This acts as a prequel to my previous fic Whispers, but it can stand alone as well.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling October moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

===

Cinnamon Rolls

“I miss cinnamon rolls.”

Rush paused in his contemplation of what had affectionately become known as ‘Rush’s Wall of Mathematical Madness’ and looked over at Belle. She was staring into the middle distance, playing with the chalk between her fingers and very obviously several million miles away from Destiny.

“Pardon?”

“I miss cinnamon rolls. I miss all proper food. Roast lamb with all the trimmings, lobster, chocolate fondant, steak sandwiches… But most of all, I miss cinnamon rolls. I’m beginning to think that I might never eat them again. I know I’ve gone back to earth and eaten them via the stones, but it’s not the same when it’s not your own taste buds, and inevitably I have to come back here to this body, whose taste buds only remember protein gloop and the odd things we’ve managed to grow in hydroponics.” She sighed, finally looking over at Rush. “I miss Earth,” she said simply. “I want to go home. I know that what we’re doing out here is important, discovering the key to life, the universe and everything, and I understand why you feel the need to keep chasing that until the end. But I want to go home, Nick. I’m tired of this. I can’t cope with it anymore.”

It was the longest speech that Belle had made to him for days. She had been subdued and withdrawn for a long time, and now he knew why. Rush gave an inward sigh. He was not a good boyfriend. A good boyfriend would have noticed that Belle’s behaviour was off and would have asked about it, instead of just shrugging it off as one of those inexplicable quirks of human interaction that he didn’t currently have time for, then going about his day. 

In Rush’s defence, though, he had never claimed to be a good boyfriend when he and Belle had first got together. In fact, he had explicitly stated that he was probably going to be a very bad one. Belle knew what she was getting into and she’d stuck by him for almost a year and a half. All the same, it did make him feel a bit guilty. He turned back to the wall, trying to distract himself from the unwelcome feeling.

“Do you miss anything about Earth?” Belle asked. There was something hard and accusatory in her tone, and Rush didn’t like it. He bristled.

“Of course I do.”

“Apart from a whiteboard and a limitless supply of dry-erase markers, and anything else that would make your job here easier?”

That stung, and Rush turned to her.

“Of course I miss Earth. I miss normal food and normal showers with running water like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, I can put that aside in order to get on with the task at hand!” He indicated the wall, annoyed that he’d lost his train of thought.

“Jesus, Nick, are you even listening to yourself? Are you even human?” Belle got up from her position cross-legged on the floor. Rush knew he’d said the wrong thing, but since he had no idea what the right thing was, he opted to keep his mouth shut.

Belle threw her hands up in defeat. “We had a life, before all this happened! We had a nice, normal, happy life, and we may never have that life again, and I miss that life! I miss coming to your house and sitting in front of your fireplace and talking about things that were in no way, shape or form related to astrophysics! I miss dating! I miss having you all to myself and not having to share you with a spaceship that’s falling apart at the seams! I miss that life, and you have the audacity to stand there and infer that the life I miss is just a distraction! That it was never as important to you as this new life is!”

There was a long pause, and Belle shook her head. “I deserve more respect than that, Nick.”

She left the corridor then, no doubt going back to the cool and calm of the hydroponics lab where she spent most of her time, caring for her little seedlings and helping build their new life here on Destiny even as she longed for her old one back home. Her footsteps echoed eerily along the metal corridors, and Rush turned back to his wall again. At the end of the day they would both calm down and everything would be just about ok again, although this did seem to be a hurdle that they were destined to come back to. 

It must have gone deeper than just missing Earth. Belle had expressed how much she missed Earth before, but it had always been in a more wistful tone, like she expected never to see it again and was nostalgic for the time they’d had there. Rush had thought that she’d made her peace with Destiny becoming their permanent home just as much as he had. This longing was something very different, and it perturbed him more than their argument had. 

He did value Belle, of course he did, and he had loved the time they’d spent together on Icarus and on Earth. He loved her, and he could never think that she, or their relationship, was a distraction. He just wasn’t very good at expressing that, especially not when there were so many other things pressing in at the edges of his mind. 

Perhaps he did take her for granted in a way, a kind of comfortable reassurance that she would always be there and would always forgive him no matter what else might come their way. He thought that they had done very well to be able to keep their relationship going amid all the stresses of their stranding - perhaps the fact that no-one else on Destiny seemed to have realised that they were even in a relationship at all helped - but now, things looked like they were falling apart and he knew that he could not rely on having Belle there in the background like she had always been. 

It was not a happy thought.

X

Belle came back to the corridor later in the day, leaning carefully against the wall so as not to smudge the chalk marks there. 

“We need to talk,” she said. There was a quiet sadness in her voice, and Rush wondered, with a gnawing little feeling of ice in the pit of his stomach, if this was the moment when they fell apart; not explosively, not with hard words and shouting like there had been earlier, but with sadness and disappointment, like so many things fell apart. “We needed to talk earlier, and I was segueing into it but then I flew off the handle.”

“I know you miss Earth,” Rush began. “And honestly, I do miss it too.”

Belle shook her head. “It’s not that. Well, it’s not just that. It’s the terror of feeling like we may never get back there. It’s not so much the things on Earth that I miss as Earth itself. And I’ve always felt that way, and I’ve always managed to push it down and make the best of it, because what other choice did I have? But I can’t do it any longer.” She sighed, and her eyes were melancholy when they finally met his. She’d been crying, it was obvious. “I’m pregnant, Nick.”

For a long time, silence reigned supreme in the corridor. It was a heavy, all-encompassing silence that was screaming with the need to be filled. Although Rush had perfectly understood the three words that had just come out of Belle’s mouth, he was having a lot of trouble actually processing them and having them sink in and their full repercussions become known.

“What?” He wished that he didn’t sound so shocked, his voice choked in the back of his throat, but he knew that at least it sounded better than something flat and emotionless would have done. He had no idea how to react to the news. It was… Well, if he was being brutally honest with himself then he couldn’t say that it was entirely unexpected given their lack of resources on Destiny, but it had come so far out of the left field, so out of the blue that he simply hadn’t given any thought to it at all. 

“I’m pregnant.” Belle gave a soft sigh, raising her hands as if to use them to illustrate her point - Belle was good at talking with her hands when she got excited, but she was far from excited now - and then just wrapping them around her chest like she was trying to hold herself together. “I mean, we’re still having sex even though I ran out of my Pill three months ago. It’s not exactly like this wasn’t a risk.”

Rush gave a slow nod. “No, no I can see that.” He paused. “Are you sure? Are you sure it’s not just stress and bad diet making you skip a period?”

Belle nodded. “I’m sure. TJ has tests in the medical stock. She knows, but no one else does.”

Rush let them fall into silence again. His most primal instinct was telling him to swear and smack his fist against the wall, but he knew that would not help matters in the slightest. Belle was already standing on a knife edge, close to breaking point, and their relationship had already started to strain beneath the massive consequences of this news even before he’d been aware of it. Rush was not a social person by any manner or means and he was not a good boyfriend, but he retained enough interpersonal awareness to know that showing anger would be the worst reaction he could make.

This was not what he needed right now. It was not what he needed at any point in time if he was being honest. He’d never had any desire to be a father; it had never been on the cards with Gloria and he’d never spoken about it with Belle, but he’d assumed that she felt the same way as he did. He had never wondered if she might want to start a family. 

All the same, even if she did want to, here on Destiny, stranded in the middle of nowhere on a quest to discover the origins of life and time itself, well, it was hardly the place to start one. 

“So what happens now?” he asked. Whatever decision was going to be made, neither of them could make it alone. This was on both of them, this baby was a part of both of them. 

Belle wiped her eyes. 

“Now I need you to put me first, instead of this ship,” she said quietly. “We have so much to decide, so much to talk about. I want to be a mother, Nick. I want to have a baby, and God knows I want to have one with you. But at the same time, can we really justify bringing a child into this world?” She gestured around the corridor. “This would be so much easier if we were on Earth. But we might never get back there. I may never have a better world to bring a child into. So we are going to have to think long and hard about what we do next, and I need to know that no matter what happens, you’re with me, and no matter what happens, you think it will be worth it. I don’t want to feel like this is just a distraction from what you’re working towards. This is so much bigger than missing cinnamon rolls, Nick. This is missing opportunities. This is missing life.”

Rush came across and put his arms around her, welcoming her slight frame leaning against him. This was unexpected and unprecedented, and he still didn’t know how he was going to deal with it all in the long term, but even he could tell that it was time to put Destiny aside and focus on Belle. 

There was a long and difficult road ahead for their relationship, no matter what the future might bring.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dangerous Minds

Those of my readers who haven’t known me long may not know that I was once a corps member of Teach for America. I taught 10th and 11th grade English for about 5 weeks, then I was told on a Friday about my “involuntary transfer” to another school in the district, where I’d be teaching 7th and 8th grade English instead. I went from having about 110 students to about 190. My classroom had no books (textbook or otherwise), no pencils, no paper, no markers or chalk, but it DID have one of those folding lamps that come out of the ceiling at the dentist’s office. The kids had been in there for 5 weeks with a rotating roster of subs; they’d done no schoolwork of any kind. I was teaching in a very poor area of the city, and my students were predominantly Black and Hispanic. One of my 10th graders wrote his first personal essay about getting shot the previous year. I say all this to tell you that when Chad asked that I review Dangerous Minds, the 1995 adaptation starring Michelle Pfeiffer of the true story of Louanne Johnson’s experience teaching in inner city schools in California, I was prepared to laugh it off as a cringey, Lifetime-movie representation of my experience. Is that what I got? Well...

For the most part, what I got was a ball of anxiety in my chest. It’s well-worn territory, obviously. A teacher bonds with their students from the wrong side of the tracks, and ends up learning just as much from them as they learn from him/her. Usually poetry or music features heavily as a tool that can set the students free from the depressing circumstances of their lives. Depending on the rating, usually a student dies, and the teacher learns just how Important their job is, so they commit to it even harder even though it pays no money and garners no respect from the administration who just doesn’t “get it.” But these cliches and stereotypes and broad strokes exist because at their core, they’re true, and they make me anxious and uncomfortable and I can’t laugh at them or Michelle Pfeiffer being a Nice White Lady because I’m too busy being angry about the systems we put in place that straight up abandon so many kids, all in the name of white supremacy.

Some thoughts:

Oh we’re starting right off the BAT with “Gangsta’s Paradise.” Fantastic news. Two things I associate so strongly with this song is skating around the skating rink in 2nd grade and buying the Weird Al cassingle of “Amish Paradise” and wearing it out. 

Ooh, the score was composed and performed by Wendy & Lisa! Love that, you don’t see nearly as many film scores as you should composed by women.

God, the salary is $24,700 a year and Louanne acts as though that is appealing - I can’t tell if that’s because it was 1995 or because teacher salaries are so dismally low that this feels like a good salary?

This scene in which Louanne goes into her classroom for the first time and the kids are all shouting at her and getting in her face and sexually harassing her and throwing paper balls at her is giving me stress hives. 

Also her friend Griffith (George Dzundza) saying, “You wanna teach, so teach! All you gotta do is get their attention” is rather disingenuous. Trust me, you can have their attention, and still not be able to teach. 

I’m excited to see Sally-Can’t-Dance from Con Air as Raul (Renoly Santiago). He’s honestly fantastic in this, with a tough exterior but a sensitive and gooey inner sweet boy. All of the teens give pretty solid performances, but he’s a real standout.

I recognize this is based on a true story and Louanne Johnson’s lived experience, but I am not sure it’s wise for any teacher, regardless of grade or subject, to be teaching her students how to fight each other. Or taking them to dinner on what looks to outsiders like a date. I know some people have a problem with the bribery (giving her students candy for speaking up in class) but I have no problem with it - you get paid to do all the dumb stuff you don’t want to do at work, why shouldn’t kids be compensated for going to school if they don’t want to be there? External motivation goes a long way to building up internal motivation.

Mm I do love me some Courtney B. Vance, but he’s such a quiet, condescending ass in this. It’s a different vibe than I’m used to seeing in a principal in a movie like this. 

Ooh, Griffith grading papers and saying “What a fuckin’ idiot” is a real mood. 

“Since when has the Board of Education done anything for us? We barely get fuckin lunch” is legit. The lunches my students were served in summer school were some of the most horrifying things I’ve ever seen. One day it was spoiled milk, white bread, and pickles. And one of my students put his in a microwave that was hidden in the back of my classroom behind some dividers and left it for a week. And just so you know, as stomach-churningly awful as that sounds, the day I found “pickle man” as my student called him, isn’t even in my top 5 worst days teaching list. 

I like Griffith, and I’m glad Louanne has a friend, but frankly I’m not that interested in these interludes between them - they really feel like they slow down the momentum from the scenes of her in the classroom slowly earning the kids’ trust. The pacing is kind of a mess, because the most dynamic sections all revolve around the kids in the classroom, and I feel like that only makes up about a third of the movie. 

One thing I know for sure is you do not get in the middle of a fight between students. I have a friend who worked in the same district I did who interrupted a fight and got punched in the face because of it. And her principal blamed her. 

Oh wow the way the soundtrack picks up when Emilio finally engages in the class is some kinda cheesy. And it continues through the rest of the scene to a distracting degree. Oh Wendy and Lisa, I hoped for better. 

Can I just emphasize that to reach these kids, Louanne uses her experience as a LITERAL MARINE by demonstrating she can kick all their asses, and then she bribes them by paying for 25 kids to go to an amusement park for the entire day with her?

Also, even if they like and respect her now, I call bullshit at any scene in which ALL of  the kids are A) sitting in their seats or B) silent, and especially C) both. 

Um suddenly feeling some weird vibes with Louanne and Raul having a dinner date at this fancy restaurant by themselves. Also, the double standard here is pretty telling - there’s no way this scene makes the movie if Louanne had been a male teacher and Raul was a female student.

Wait wait wait, she’s also loaning Raul $200? Like, is this why I didn’t make it as a teacher? Because I wasn’t a former Marine taking students to amusement parks and fancy dinners and lending them money? I was 25 and could barely afford rent. Maybe teachers who have enough money to take care of themselves are better equipped to take care of others. Idk, I’m just spitballin here.

Oh “Gangsta’s Paradise” is happening again! We already heard the whole song over the opening credits but now it’s happening again about 3/4 way through. I mean this song is definitely the best thing about the film, so I get it, but it feels weird that they think we wouldn’t notice it playing to completion twice.

Michelle Pfeiffer is doing everything she can to make this movie feel less cheesy and more real. Like, you can tell she’s really trying with her performance. Of course, it’s not like the character is a huge challenge acting-wise, but she is definitely committed to the part and can walk the line of both accessible and tough. 

This scene where Louanne tells her class she is not going to be there next year, that what happened to Durell and Lionel and Callie and Emilio made her too sad to stay has not aged well at all. And it’s certainly true to life, and I say that as someone who did the same thing. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s a reality - the fact that I’m a nice white lady is exactly the reason that I can choose to leave when things get too hard. Just because the kids convince her to stay at the end in this very rushed “all’s well that ends well” way doesn’t sweep this scene under the rug, and it shouldn’t. 

Ope, “Gangsta’s Paradise” shows up one last time in the credits for good measure. 

Side note: after the film, I researched Louanne, and she’s still teaching, which honestly made me emotional (in a good way). And I’d like to point out the racist ass bullshit the studio and screenwriter Ronald Bass pulled by changing the poems the students read to Bob Dylan lyrics when Louanne originally used rap lyrics from popular artists in ‘89-’90 to teach the kids about poetry. 

Did I Cry? No, but I did get heartburn from anxiety flashbacks.

This genre of film is easy to mock and parody because it tells the same story and hits the same beats to the point that they’ve become cliche. Ultimately, the truth at the heart of the movie (which is the un-nuanced and candy-coated depiction of Johnson’s real memoir, My Posse Don’t Do Homework) is that high schoolers crave someone who will see them and validate them, someone who is willing to put in the effort. The quality of the package that truth is wrapped in varies, and this one certainly leans in hard on stereotypes that feel like cheat codes rather than any real illuminating depictions of living teenagers. But as cringey as it is to watch, maybe it’s not a bad thing to remember that all people - including those who are trapped in poverty and all the cruel injustices that entails - want to be seen and valued for who they really are. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[bloodieorchid]

Cafe Rouge- CH 1

Cafe Rouge - Chapter One : Espresso

Next ->

<- First

A college student finds a job at an elusive coffee and book shop after the disappearance of the past barista. Only after the interview and many confidentiality agreements do you begin to learn the secrecy behind Café Rouge.

YANDERE MALE x READER, YANDERE FEMALE X READER, YANDERE NB X READER

CW: This story will contain dark subject matter regarding stalking, abuse, violence, the yandere tag in general, and more to be added as this story is written and updated. I, as a writer, do NOT condone any of the activities in this story and only seek to write a horror romance.

          It was an early morning when your 5:45 AM alarm went off, calling you to get ready for the first day of a new job. It was a slow morning, the sun hadn’t even appeared over the horizon as you had gotten dressed with the owner’s advice in mind for safety. You tied your shoes before grabbing your keys and notebook before heading out of the apartment you lived in to go to work.

         The town of Ravenswood was still asleep, the only light coming from streetlights lining the town’s streets. There were a few people out, mainly walking their dogs or going on jogs. You could hardly believe a town as sleepy as this had someone as young as Laura go missing. The town was full of confusion and fear, regarding one of their young people and how they suddenly disappeared.

       When you arrived at the coffee shop, the lights were off but it was obvious people were moving around inside. You pulled open the door, stepping into the dark stacks of the book section and looking up to see someone working behind the bar.

      He was a lithe, young man with auburn hair swept off his face. He was young, but with a strong jaw seemingly made of granite. A button up shirt was left slightly undone at the top, revealing a black tattoo that coiled around his collarbone. He glanced up and waved with a large metal contraption in his hand. “You must be the new person, right? Or I’m going to have to break it to you that we don’t open for another thirty minutes,” the man’s voice was calm, but jovial with a tone of joking in the deep tenor.

      “No, I’m the new person,” you confirmed, standing in the door way as he pulled out a cloth to begin wiping down the bar. “(Y/N), right?” his eyes met yours, earning a nod in return. “I’m Shane, Bishop wanted me to help show you the ropes in opening up and I’m going to training you. Go through that door back there and set your stuff in the back. I’ll show you how to get everything set up for open,” he said, giving a light smile to you and pointing to a brightly lit door in the back.

      You nodded, stepping out of the door way and going to the back. The bright room had tile floors covered in rubber mats, a large dishwashing station full of mugs, glasses, and plates, and a desk tucked in the back where Mr. Bishop sat. “Good morning, (Y/N),” Mr. Bishop called out, not looking up from his work. He pointed to a rack to hang up your stuff, which you quickly moved to do. “As a precaution here, we use fake names on the name tags to allow the baristas not to be followed around outside of work. Shane out there goes as Knight and I go by King out there.” he mentioned as he fiddled with an empty name tag.

    “Chess pieces?” you asked, glancing as you shrugged off your jacket. “It’s a simple fake name that everyone knows is fake, but memorable enough. You don’t have to stick with the chess theme, but if you want, we can get your set up with Rook or something,” he explained while pulling out a chalk marker. “Rook works well for me, Mr. Bishop,” you confirmed. He nodded before writing the name in large letters on the black chalk name tag. He handed it to you, allowing you to put it on your shirt. “Shane, or Knight, will get you set up out there and will show you the ropes. Remember to call him Knight in front of customers,” Mr. Bishop reminded. You nodded as you returned to the front of the shop.

     Running a coffee shop seemed daunting at the beginning, but as Shane showed you how to brew the espresso and explained the different coffee items, it seemed less and less scary. You were wiping off the counter when Shane turned on the lights, unlocked the door and smiled at you. “Don’t worry Rook, it’s not as scary as you think,” he reassured as he returned behind the counter.

     The first customers only seemed to order black coffee, but it was an hour after closing that the first regular came in. “Good Morning Mr. Arnold.” you heard Shane, no Knight, call out. You turned over, expecting an older gentleman but were shocked to find someone slightly older than your coworker. He was in a blazer and slacks, hair dark and side parted. His face was steely and his eyes were cold, his pale skin looking ghostly and close to hollow. “It didn’t take King long to replace the last barista,” Mr. Arnold stated while keeping his eyes on you. He was examining you like a fox staring at a rabbit, harsh but his eyes turned lighter once Knight started talking. “Yeah, well you know how he gets. King needs someone to run the front after all. You want your usual today?” he asked, pulling out a small glass.

      The man nodded, pulling out a few dollars in change. Knight placed the order in the register and Mr. Arnold followed by putting a ten dollar bill in the tip jar. Knight immediately got to work brewing the espresso for Mr. Arnold. He turned back to you, his eyes turning steely. “You best be careful here, young Rook. Pawn got in a lot of trouble with some of the people who came in here, it doesn’t turn out well,” Mr. Arnold informed with his dark eyes staring at you. “Pawn, sir?” you asked, confused. He chucked, “My apologies, the last barista, that missing girl went by Pawn here,” he mentioned before grabbing his small cup of espresso and turning it with a small spoon. “Don’t scare them, Arnold. It’s their first day,” Knight mentioned with a frown on his face.

       Mr. Arnold chucked softly before sipping his espresso. “Just being honest, Knight,” he mentioned with a smile. The bell of the door rang again, this time a college student entered. “O-Oh, I didn’t know Mr. King could find a new barista that fast,” the student was skittish, thin and lithe with their hair tied above their head. An undercut was underneath the small bun and they were drowning in a large cardigan over a tee shirt and jeans.

       “Good morning Willow, and yeah, King needed someone else to run the front. It’s their first day, so be nice,” Knight called out from the espresso bar. “Nice to meet you, Willow,” you called out with a small smile on your face. Willow’s cheeks flushed and they offered a small smile in return. “I-I usually get a l-latte with the s-seasonal syrup, w-which one is it?” they asked as you began ringing it up. “It’s lavender today,” you answered, checking the notebook full of notes. They nodded and smiled as you rang them up, pulling out a card to pay. You looked back at the tablet when they were done, your eyes almost going wide. The tip was nearly double their order. “I t-tip w-well, you d-deserve it,” they smiled and you gave one back as they went to go sit at a table in the stacks of books.  

        “Willow’s a medical student over at the college, but they live off campus.” Knight mentioned as he showed you how to steam milk, before pouring the latte. “They always tip well, but only to their favorites. I only seem to get one or two dollar bills off them. It’s good to have favorites, I guess but make sure you don’t mention names.” Knight reminded and he handed you the large latte. “Be careful, it’s hot,” you nodded as you carried the drink over to Willow’s table. “Studying to do?” you asked as you gently set the latte down. Willow nodded, “I h-have an anat-anatomy test today, the c-coffee helps me focus,” they mentioned and took a sip of the latte. You nodded, “Don’t let me distract you then,” you smiled before returning to the bar.

        Mr. Arnold had left at this point, leaving another dollar on the counter underneath his espresso cup and Knight slid it over to the tip jar. “We split tips at the end of the shift, but you get your digital tips on your paycheck,” he mentioned. You nodded as you wiped down the counter. “What was Mr. Arnold talking about with the last barista?” you asked Knight as you took the dishes to the dish bin. “Laura got involved with some of the weirder customers and sometimes didn’t use the alias. Mr. Arnold is a cautious fellow, but he plays his favorites as well,” Knight mentioned. “It seems you’re one of his,” you responded as you pulled out more mugs. “Well, yeah. Everyone likes their stuff done a specific way and Mr. Arnold is no different,” Knight answered.

        The next person who came in was definitely more frazzled. She was a young woman, with long white hair tied into a side braid that had a couple pieces of hair sticking out. She was dressed professionally, holding her bag and a piece of paper in her hands. “Hey Knight, I got another list of drinks again,” she mentioned sadly as she set it down. She looked at Knight for a second, before her eyes flickered to the side, only to stop and stare for a second. “You must be the new barista,” she gave a small smile. “I’m Mona, I work for the Mayor’s office as the secretary over there,” she smiled as Knight rang in the multitude of drinks. “I’m Rook, nice to meet you,” you offered a smile her way. “I’m going to have to come in more. I didn’t know that this coffee shop could have even cuter baristas,” she flirted gently, passing her card over to Knight. Your cheeks flushed and she smiled lightly at that move.

        You missed how in the corner, Willow was frowning at the obvious flirting being sent your way. You did notice how Mona made sure to leave her number at the counter before collecting the drink trays full of various coffees and teas. “Don’t let King work you too hard, Rook,” she smiled before she left the room. Knight took the phone number and set it underneath the counter. “I wouldn’t suggest it, those relationships never end well,” he mentioned. You nodded in return and you returned to wiping down the bar.

        The first day seemed to fly by, leaving you fifty dollars richer at the end of tips and now with a cup of coffee to ease your way back to campus. You were back to being a simple (Y/N) again, not a Rook. You walked away from Cafe Rouge, unaware of just how many people’s attention you have on you. But for now, you merely sipped your beverage and enjoyed the good tidings to come; unaware just of what surprises the Cafe Rouge has in store for you.

[underthedekutree]

Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

[londonfog-chan]

Passione x Reader: Sudoh Buck AU

This was too fucking good to let it rot in AO3 so now you all have to be subjected to my JoJo thirst. All characters aged up (otherwise how the fuck would they have this job??)

...

“So you’re not working my shift???”

“No... you’re actually my relief.”

Your best friend is clocking out just as you’re going to clock in. She looks dolefully up at you, nearly in tears from how the day has treated her. It’s her last shift for the week at the Passione Street location for Sudoh Buck, but you’re not sure why it was she had such a horrible time.

“He’s so mean!” She whispers as you lean down next to her.

“Who?!”

“The one on drive thru. He kept kicking me off bar because I made too many mistakes. I don’t know what I’m going to do for a whole three weeks with these people. I miss our store.”

The system is unavailable for you to punch in on the computer, so you’ll have to hunt down the punch communication log and you’re not exactly enthralled to be asking the dudes at the front. One of the guys, silver haired giant with neon lipstick, fucking glared you down when you went to the back. Had it not been for your coworker from the old store (Kimmy) walking out to say goodbye you’re sure he would have pummeled you.

“Yeah?” You ask, slightly bristling as your friend continues to look sad. “Well fuck me I guess. I’ll have to find out where that damn book is and go talk to one of them, and then you’ll be out and I’ll have to deal with this shit all by myself. At least you had the luxury of working with our crew...”

You can’t help the bitterness in your voice even though you know your friend is hurt. It’s been one fucking thing after another. You kept asking everyone where to go, and after being ignored and given a gang face, you’re not altogether sure you like Passione location after all... it’s in a location where you used to live as a child, not too far a commute from your current house where you live with your mother, and it’s the newest location established. But the newness is a fucking facade. You already have a bad impression by how they treated your friend, you can’t imagine they’re taking too kindly to being invaded by a new store. A friend working the S. Platinum location told you the other day he heard some blonde bastard of a shift complaining that the Ogre Street crew was stealing all the tips from the regular crew.

From a customer’s perspective, this is a coffee drinker’s paradise. Everything looks bright and new, when you walk into the cafe area, the front where they have the registers and the pastry case is on one big countertop that’s shared with the espresso bar and cold bar. In back of the bar is the drive thru window, and at the end of the espresso bar there’s some seating arrangements where customers can watch their drinks being made. It’s a typical Sudoh Buck color scheme. Lots of greys and white, the customers flock to it looking to get their fix, but under the facade there’s apparently a bastard crew working it. On top of that, the remodel for your location is going to take longer than anticipated. What else can you do but just rough it out with strangers you don’t even know?

“Well... I guess I’ll go home now.” Your friend murmurs sadly.

“Yeah. Bye.”

Your friend gets up and gathers her things, looking at you wistfully before mouthing “good luck”. In a few seconds she’s gone, and you’re standing there in an unfamiliar back office, apron in hand, wondering how on earth you’re going to survive the first day without anyone from your old store to help you.

“Oh hi there!”

An unusually cheerful voice jolts you out of your stupor as you come face to face with an unfamiliar associate. He looks fairly young, black messy hair held back with a bandana, and he looks you up and down with a sly look in his violet eyes.

“You’re one of the baristas from Ogre Street Mall yeah? Are you looking for the book?” He asks, cocking his head to the side as he ties up the strings of his apron. His black metal name tag has green chalk marker on it too small to make out, so you can’t tell his name right away.

“Yeah, I started a few months ago at that location. And yes, that would be helpful.” You tell him your name, and you can’t help the jump in your pulse when you hear him roll it off his tongue.

“That’s a pretty cute name.” He flirts, coming up on you with his fist up. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Narancia.”

You have to smile as you fist bump him (hey, it’s impolite to leave a homeboy hanging). Immediately you feel the strongest connection to him; Narancia is the first helpful and friendly face you’ve met so far in this location. And if he’s this cute and working a shift with you, you fully intend to stick by him wherever he goes.

“That’s not a bad name either my guy.” You smile. “Now about that book...”

“Come with me to front, we keep the book by the register in case anyone can’t get into the system.” He casually drapes an arm around your shoulder and you instinctually lean into him.

Hey, no one’s ever flirted with you before at work, and there’s no harm in it if you’re single. You know he’s probably smiling wider than fuck, but you could really care less at this point. Embarrassment ended when work jaded you. When you’re working 36 hours a week for minimum wage you tend to lose things like dignity.

“Here, make sure you check off this part with ‘New Store Labor’. Want me to get the ASM so he can tell you where to go?”

“That’d be great.” You insist. “I really appreciate you.”

“Stay right there!”

He runs off to the same isolated corner where you can hear the guys running drive thru taking orders. Before you write your name in the book, you notice that Narancia doesn’t clock in on the computer. The entire week is him filling out his punches in the book, one of many indicators that he was a barista who hated the new update for the punch log on the iPads. This indicates he’s the best kind of barista: the lazy fuck who can shortcut anything and come out on top. A few others prefer the book too, and you can’t help but admire the immaculate handwriting of this “Leone Abbacchio”, and you wonder if they’re as nice as their handwriting.

While you write in your punch, some dude with a funny looking orange beanie looks at you from his spot by the convection ovens, and you notice he’s muttering to himself on what looks like a gaming headset. When you make eye contact with him, he looks away as though he’s been caught committing a crime, saved by the loud beeping of the oven. He takes the tongs he’s holding and takes out some croissants, bagging them and putting stickers on the front before running them past you.

Narancia seems to be taking his sweet ass time with the assistant store manager. There’s another young looking guy, a blonde, at the point of sales system, the cafe is dead but bar is bumping, you can see other baristas pumping out drinks like their lives depend on it. Occasionally one will hand a drink off to a counter out of sight (probably to neon lipstick asshole who gang faced you earlier). The blonde leans against the counter, looking at you up and down the same way Narancia did. Vaguely you wonder: why did your friend say these guys were assholes? The blond and Narancia, along with the warming guy, seem perfectly content to check you out, and frankly you’re enjoying the attention. Fuck a duck, the guys here are hot!

“You’re the barista from Ogre Street?”

The question comes from the blonde at the POS system. You nod.

“Yessir. Just coming on board until the remodel happens.” You reply. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Fugo. You?”

He smiles when you tell him your name, but evidently you’re going to have to wait your turn to talk to him. That’s the beauty of working a coffee shop, customers just crawl out of the woodwork and line up at the POS system, and you smile when you hear Fugo’s very lovely “Welcome to Sudoh Buck, what may I get started for you today?”. It’s pretty awkward just chilling out by the pastry case. Typically you just jump into the first unmanned task when you walk into your store, but this is entirely new territory. Even the espresso machines are different here, you heard talk that soon all the new Sudoh Buck locations are getting what’s called Mastrena 4’s, whatever the shit that means. All you know is it’s supposed to make things a hell of a lot easier, and that you have to have it mastered before the remodel is completed.

“Sorry we kept you waiting for so long, you must be so confused.”

You’re pulled out of your stupor and suddenly face to face with the most gorgeous assistant store manager you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got what your coworkers would call a “Karen” haircut, but he wears it well, and apparently he doesn’t mind it all too much that you’re staring at him like he’s a piece of meat in a butcher shop. He’s tall, all legs and arms with broad shoulders in a black turtleneck sweater. Narancia is almost overshadowed by the ASM’s beauty (he returns wearing the same headset as the guy on oven duty), but you sneak a glance at him too just for a minute.

“Y-yea... I mean, no it’s cool. I just, it’s like was anyone going to tell me what to do? Or was I supposed to have a sense of purpose myself?”

... Jesus Christ on a crutch... you note that the ASM must really appreciate your blunt humor, because his blue eyes are even smiling as he laughs. Narancia can’t help but laugh too, and with both men looking like snacks whenever they smile you’re about to drop from being so weak in the knees.

“I think you’ll be a great fit here.” The ASM smiles, “My name is Bruno Buccellati. You are...”

Your name rolling off his tongue makes you weak again. Oh lort... how does any barista get work done around here with all this man candy???

“Before we start, what position are you most comfortable with?” Bruno asks.

You’re about ten seconds from blurting out something nasty: spit roast sounds nice, Narancia and oven guy can watch.

“Ok...” you steel yourself, fully prepared with a speech you’d rehearsed in the car only an hour before. “I’m gonna keep it real with you chief, I don’t know how to do anything in a drive thru, and I don’t know how to run the new Mastrenas. If someone can show me I can do bar, otherwise I’m down to help on cold.”

Bruno seems to take this into consideration, looking over at the line that’s forming on front. Narancia looks too, immediately hopping onto bar where he starts steaming milk and pulling espresso shots from the machine without anyone having to ask him. His quick response triggers that look in Bruno’s eyes, and he nods you over towards the bar.

“I think I’ll have you with Narancia on cold bar for now. He’s going to be cafe and drive thru bar, so whatever he needs help with, just pull the stickers and he can show you where everything is. We’ll kill this line, and then I can give you a more permanent assignment. How’s that sound?”

“Gotcha!”

You instantly spring into action, much more confident now that you have direction. Narancia is pulling stickers out of a square machine and pasting them to cups, handing the plastic ones to you where you spring into action. Getting into a sequence, you start a drink, begin another one, work on the first, then start a third, going on like this until you’ve got a rhythm. Pumping out teas, fraps, refreshers, anything iced at all. Your hands fly over your work, and you almost don’t hear the praises that are being showered on you.

“Damn look at her go!” Whistles Narancia, “Hey Mista! Check out bar star over here!”

The guy from warming is over your shoulder as you hand out a drink, calling out Tom’s 20 ounce passion hibiscus tea. He smiles at you for a split second, too dazzling for words, then runs back to the oven when his headset lights up.

Vaguely you wonder how the hell your friend had such a rough time here at this location when there’s so much nice man candy to look at.