#i thrive on validation and feedback

[oppysbabydoll]

hiiii!! Saw you do request and i was wondering if you could do mtmte drift x ratchet x reader? (Poly relationship your honor) iam so hungry for dratchet x reader content and theres only so lil crumbs in here, it made me sad 😭

(Depends on you if you wanna headcanons or fic, as long its dratchet x reader pls,, its okay if you don't wanna tho)

of course! i should’ve mentioned this on my introduction but im totally comfortable with polyam requests, as a polyamorous person myself! plus, dratchet is adorable <3 you have good taste anon

without further ado, have some dratchet

dratchet x human reader (sfw)

you’re the first human on the ship, so it’s natural for transformers to take interest in you. everyone was curious about the human. yet after the initial excitement faded away, bots like ratchet and drift still were curious about you

as the only organic, the medic was curious and worried to see how your body worked. what would happen if you got injured? what would he do then? and worst of all… what does that say about him, as a medic? if he can’t heal the crew then what good is he as a medic? so he does checkups repeatedly to better understand how your body function. while his initial reasons are based on his own insecurities… a genuine bond does form

you talk about your hobbies, your interests, whatever makes you happy as ratchet does his checkups because speaking from personal experience… doctor visits are not easy. while ratchet is initially annoyed by your rambles, your passion inspires him. and on cycles where he isn’t scheduled to check up on you… he finds himself missing your presence (he’d rather die than admit it though lol)

for drift… his reasons for becoming close to you r for redemption. as a former deception, he’s done some terrible things against those he deemed as inferior: humans being one of them. by befriending you… he can’t take away his past, but he can create a better future with you. and much like hot rod, you match his energy. unlike said mech, you try to understand his interests, like crystals and yoga

of course, you being involved in the equation doesn’t erase dratchet from happening—if anything, it only pushes them to happen sooner. when drift confides to you, you encourage him to talk to ratchet more, and wingman for him, hyping him in front of ratchet. and while ratchet is initially skeptical of even talking to drift since they’re so. Different they do become a thing

they become a thing and you think your job here is done. unbeknownst to you, these bots want you too! so they make their own moves! drift gives you as many compliments as possible that tether on the edge between platonic and something more. he ultimately confesses with a heartfelt gesture. maybe with all his crystals forming a heart. cheesy but endearingly sweet <3

ratchet isn’t as loud about his feelings but… he definitely is softer in his interactions with you. he gives you lots of soft looks when he thinks you aren’t looking. i can’t see him confessing unless it’s heat of the moment so i think you or drift would have to make the first move to suggest a polyamorous relationship. but between the three of you: resident protector, medic, and human of megarod’s ship, you’re a wonderful trio

[aesthetic-olive]

A teaser for Chapter 3,

Because I literally Cannot Wait to post it:

Sabine had finally made her decision. The cold Fucking Sucked™.

Freezing wind blew shards of ice directly into her bones as she rode her tauntaun across the snowy fields. Echo Base was theoretically just across the way, but she’d never know it if it weren’t for her locator beacon. The snow storm had come out of nowhere, taking her by surprise. Command had officially recommended that she set up camp and bed down until the storm was over. She had flat out refused. She wasn’t going to spend a second longer out here than necessary. She was so close to a warm shower, but not close enough.

After three months of the Hoth-lifestyle, Sabine wouldn’t complain if she never saw a flake of snow ever again. She’d never been particularly bothered by the cold, but spending hours on this planet’s surface completing patrols was enough to drive anyone mad. 

She’d lost feeling in her fingers and toes a while ago. The numbness began spreading up her limbs as she finally caught a glimpse of the Shield Generator that Sabine had spent so much time weatherproofing and modifying for their base. With a grimace of determination she ducked her head down and spurred her tauntaun to plow forward.

“Echo Base this is Spectre-5. I’m heading towards the entrance now.”

“Acknowledged Spectre-5. Glad you made it.”

Sabine didn’t recognize the voice on the other line. So many people had moved in over the past two months it was impossible to keep track. On the one hand, it was exciting to see their rebellion become so large. On the other hand, a part of Sabine missed when it was just her and the Ghost crew doing whatever they could to help whoever they came across. Everything felt so much more manageable back then. Now, the size of everything they were doing felt overwhelming. She tried not to think about it most days. 

After making it back inside, getting a once over from the med-team, and completing her report for the day she finally had a chance to unwind. She thought about looking for Ezra but decided against it. They’d both been so busy helping with the rebellion they’d hardly seen each other lately. The time they did have was often cut short by emergency drills or eavesdropping strangers. They’d decided to keep their relationship a secret for the time-being. Better to keep people focused on the war than what’s going on in her bed, Sabine reasoned. Plus, there was enough relationship drama with whatever was going on between Luke, Han, and Leia. Still, times like these she wished she could just hunt Ezra down and wrap herself around him wherever he stood. He was always warm and cozy and besides, she missed him. She trudged through the low icy hallways, brooding as she made her way towards her room and the shower that was calling her name.

Her door finally made its way into her field of vision and the tension in her shoulders loosened. She pulled off her helmet and tucked it underneath her arm as she entered her passcode to get in. The door hissed open to a view that she had not seen in too long.

[fleetingprose]

I don’t need to do drugs because I’ve had teachers compliment my writing before and that high just can’t be beat.

[the-pantry-of-art]

New style study, I'm thinking about changing my exiting one to something like this… I'm quite bored with my previous one.

[imaginmatrix]

Waiting for comments on fics is sometimes nerve wracking because you don’t know whether they hated it or you just happened to post at a time when 60% of your readerbase is asleep and there’s no real way to tell

[jessicas-pi]

ok first of all. thank you SO SO MUCH for putting your thoughts out there!! The fact that you have thought about this enough to have this much of an analysis is amazing to me. And it really helps me see how my own story reads to someone else! And I just love hearing your thoughts in general!

And please know that this is not ever meant to sound like i'm being all wElL AcKTuAllY, I just get really excited to talk to you about my story and I'm gonna try to not come off too loud but if i do, uh... sorry in advance? just know that if I were saying this to your face, it would be with a big stupid grin as i bounce up and down and flap my hands cuz!!! im talking about my story!! you're listening!!! you have thoughts back!!! i have thoughts about your thoughts!!! let's tell each other our thoughts!! :D :D

Also, apologies if some things in the first bit are vague, I'm really trying to keep this spoiler free for future events 😅

So, first off! There IS a reason Sabine failed to rescue Ezra so many times. And there IS a reason Sabine got to "cheat the system" and save Ezra without a big lesson learned (though the time she truly saved him, she did pass a 'test' of sorts, but, uh, more on that in a further meta.). And there IS a reason that it doesn't make sense for the Force to test Sabine so many times without her learning anything!!

And really, the reason is pretty simple.

It's not the Force.

It's not some all-encompassing cosmic power leading her on a journey to become a better Jedi. If it was, she wouldn't have gone through all of that. Heck, she might not have gone through any of that! And that's why it doesn't make sense for the Force to test her that way.

Because it's not the Force, and it's not a test.

It's the Mythosaur.

It's an actual being with motives, and those motives are---hopefully this doesn't spoil too much, but---primarily selfish. Sabine isn't being guided to a lesson that will teach her how to let go of her attachment. Sabine is being made into a better tool.

And when Sabine finally saves Ezra, it's not because of her own merit. A lot of it does have to do with how she finally lets go of her fear of failing that's prompting her to try to blunt-force her way through the portal and just trusts the Force. But she never would have been able to do it on her own. There are massively powerful Force-aligned beings that are in the middle of a cosmic chess game here. Not exactly against each other, per se, but they have significantly different methods of doing things.

In the end, a lot of the weird Force things that happen aren't really caused by the Force itself. They're caused by...

Well.

If you know you know, and if you don't, you'll find out soon enough!

So, yeah! she doesn't save him because she learns a lesson. She saves him because someone powerful wants her to. and, I admit, she does have a bit of an attachment issue with him!

(But---okay, so I gotta be honest. I'm really, really jealous of how well you write metas. Because they always make sense and mine can be pretty confusing. So I just want to clarify! I am probably definitely guilty of exaggeration in the name of emphasis in this last meta. I probably definitely need to work on that in the future. But for this one, like... please do take the strongest statements in there with a grain of hyperbole-flavored salt!)

Ok, on to more semi-coherence!

I'm just gonna start off this bit by guaranteeing you that this fic isn't gonna go the easy fake-marriage-of-convenience path. It's a funny plot device, it's great for an unserious fic, but as goofy and self-indulgent as this fic can be, when it comes to the actual relationship development? We do things the hard way here. I maaaay be guilty of the fake-couple-on-a-mission thing in a future book though. sorrynotsorry XD

And---ok, so, yeah, the idea of her using his feelings to pull off a BFF-fake-notmarriage thing as a way to keep him close would be very Not Cool of her. But, remember---Anakin suggests the marriage idea, jokingly. Zhaya suggests they do the BFF-oath-of-fidelity vow. But Sabine?

She considers it momentarily and says that it could work, and then dismisses it and says that they'll talk about it later. Because really, with more than five seconds of thought, she takes in the implications of what it would mean to him. In the moment when she's considering it, she thinks of their friendship and of the idea of staying beside him always, and that's tempting---but then she remembers the rest, and discards any vow as something to talk about later. (Later, as in, never. Or, maybe, as in, when they feel the same, and could make a vow in honesty. Because she won't hide behind a lie for something that big. She knows it would hurt him. He's too important to her.)

And, slight topic jump, but I gotta say---this bit you said here?

Not that I think that they would ever stop being friends; but if Sabine doesn't want to a pursue a romantic relationship with Ezra and yet that's something he does want in his life, then she knows that there's a possibility she will become #2 to him at some point, even if he remains #1 to her.

you are SO RIGHT. SO right. Like, not to go too heavily into possible spoilers, but... girl, have you been snooping in my Future Scenes I Wrote Now Cuz I'm Impatient document? Because that's practically a direct quote from Sabine during a Welp, Guess I'm Processing These Feelings About My Entire History Of Relationship Development With Ezra Aloud To A Friend Now conversation.

Also, on rereading my meta, I just realized I definitely needed to clarify something!!

So, when I said that ezra's feelings are soft and silent and hers are tumultuous and fervent, I wasn't talking about, like, a permanent thing for them. That part of the meta was supposed to be about their dynamic immediately post-reunion. I guess what I mean is, like, when they reunite, Ezra's all like "Sabine, hi! Missed you! How are you doing?" versus Sabine is like "oH my fORCE you're aLIVE you're HERE i watched you die so many times i failed you so many times YOU'RE ALIVE YOU'RE ALIVE you're BREATHING I can feel your presence and it feels like home it's YOU you're REAL you're not dead i didn't fail you i didn't let you die i saved you after all there was hope there was always hope I MISSED YOU SO MUCH"

So, like. Not the most healthy mindset to be in! But not a permanent thing, either. And, like... also, kind of understandable? I mean, the last interaction she remembers having with him was cradling his bloody corpse in her arms. that. uh. that kinda messes a girl up, yknow? So she's totally exploding with Ezra-Flavored Emotions right now. Everything she feels in this moment is bigger than what she'll feel later. And that's why she acts, like you were saying---selfishly!

The way she's treating his feelings isn't Average Sabine Behavior. It's Emotional Mess Sabine Behavior. She is completely out of whack here. Not that it's okay for her to mash down his feelings in any circumstance, but it's not how she's going to act once she can take a deep breath and cool down a bit.

Because the truth is that she cares about Ezra. And if she knew he wanted to talk about it, she would do it. She hides from it because it's the easy thing to do, but he's never wanted to talk about it with her before, either. She's trying to do what, as far as she knows, they both want. As far as she knows, he wants to get over it. And... he kinda does!

He likes her. He loves her. He really does. But he also feels that as things stand between them right then, the best solution would just be for him to get past his feelings. It's not like he only likes her romantically. They are friends. There's just this extra stuff on his side, too. So wouldn't it be simpler for him to get rid of some old feelings, than to wait and see if she'll get new ones? It's logical, yeah---but it doesn't mean he can't make himself stop feeling things, just like that.

And in the current moment, I don't think he's thinking about it at all! Sabine's here. She's happy. He's happy. If she did lie about him not saying something stupid---which he's actually pretty sure she did; Force-bonds can be real snitches when it comes to lying---that just means it's not going to be a problem for them! (...right?)

Both of them, I think, are still hoping they can make this work without needing to talk about it. They both like their friendship and they both want to keep it. And they're both afraid of losing each other if they talk about it, but Sabine is just as afraid of hurting him as she is of losing him. It isn't entirely selfishness, on her part. She's trying to keep something that's important to both of them---even if she's going about it wrong.

Anywayyy I have no idea if all this word vomit makes any sense whatsoever! But that's about all I got. And thank you so so much again for sharing all your real thoughts! I genuinely appreciate them, and it's given me Thoughts And Ideas to think about, too!

The Time Heals ‘Verse meta ramble, part 2: In Which I Scream Some More About Sabine And Ezra

Whoo! So! What was SUPPOSED to be a little backstory about The Line from Time Heals All Wounds turned into a massive rant. But that’s over, and you’re all as depressed as I am, and now we get to move onto other stuff!!

(spoiler warning continues!)

So now I’m going to ramble a little bit about the specific relationship dynamic between Sabine and Ezra currently in this because AGH. I just. I gotta talk about it. fair warning, the following rant has no discernible thesis statement and wanders around aimlessly. but hey, that's just how I roll.

Okay so Time Heals primarily follows Sabine. So that’s the lens we’re looking through. And it’s easy to forget that Ezra’s timeline is entirely different from hers. But it is. A story that has taken a year-and-a-half, more or less, for her, has been mere months for him.

Because Ezra died only weeks after the Battle of Lothal, remember?

It’s six months after that, when Sabine gets pulled into the past. It’s months after that when she rescues him. By the time they’re reunited on the Coronet, Sabine has lived an entire year in a galaxy without Ezra in it, and a few months more in a galaxy not knowing he’s there.

She has seen him die thirty-three times. She’s mourned him. She still mourns him. She dreams about his dead body in her arms. He haunts her. To an embarrassing degree, her life is centered around him.

Meanwhile, Ezra’s timeline looks like this:

—he purgills Thrawn into the unknown and Thrawn imprisons him —some weeks later, Sabine kicks open the door to his cell, slaps him, hugs him, proclaims she’s watched him die 32 times, provides no further explanation, and then someone tosses a thermal detonator into the cell and it all goes black —he wakes up somewhere on Mandalore during the Clone War and promptly gets adopted by four tipsy art majors —a few months later, the Force tells him to get a move on —he reunites with Sabine that afternoon and everything's great!

So as of chapter 15 of book 2, which is where we're at now, Ezra’s spent three, four months in the past—missing everyone, yeah, but missing Sabine least, because she’s the one who saved him, and that’s given him a gut feeling that she’s still around. To him, Sabine has been a wistful thought that comes and goes. He tells his friends stories about her and misses her. But he doesn’t mourn her.

Meanwhile, Sabine’s spent over a year believing that he is lost to her forever because she couldn’t save him. (She doesn’t know she saved him, remember? She’s forgotten. It’s all a blank, and she’s afraid to hope.) She is still in the vise-like grip of grief, even if she’s functioning around it. There has never been a moment when she has not been thinking about him. (And in a way, it’s his fault, because he loved her, and he told her so. And she cannot forget it, no matter how hard she tries.)

His feelings towards her are soft and silent. He's content to wait until he sees her again, without aching too badly at her current missing presence in his life. He is at peace.

Her feelings towards him are tumultuous and fervent. She's desperate to see him again and terrified that she'll lose him. it’s like nothing she’s ever felt before. She is the farthest thing from peaceful.

So, while Ezra's feelings may seem to run deeper than hers—he is kinda in love with her, after all—he's also completely normal about her.

Sabine, on the other hand, has been torturing herself with the memory of him for over a year. He's a bundle of guilt and grief and mourning in her brain. Her feelings for him are clear-cut, platonic, and so all-consuming that they verge on an obsession.

So really, he doesn't care about her more. He cares about her differently. But not more.

But—and this is important, not so much for the story, but it's important to me that you know this—Ezra doesn’t know she's changed. He knows the old Sabine, who was his best friend, even if sometimes she was distant. He doesn’t believe she cares about him as much as he cares about her. And he's resigned to that! It’s ok! He’s ok! He’s used to it, he’s used to hiding how much he cares, and nobody else knows. So he’ll go on hiding it and she’ll go on ignoring it and it won’t matter.

But the Sabine that Ezra entrusted his blade and his homeworld to with one last, long look is a different woman than the Sabine that kicks down the door of his cell on the Chimaera a few weeks (a year) later.

And where does the difference lie?

It lies in the fact that she lost him. It lies in the fact that he died in her arms. It lies in the fact that he has consumed every waking thought of hers for months. 

It lies in the fact that she will. not. let. him. go.

She didn’t let him go when he was dead. And now that he’s alive? Now that he’s with her again?

Well.

There is no holding at arms-length. She would clutch his living form as tightly as she held his lifeless body, if she dared. She doesn’t, but she still reaches out to him—bumping shoulders, brushing hands, touching him just to know that he’s there. He is everything to her now. It’s not a love like his. It’s wider than that. It’s relief and joy and comfort in his presence and an impossible dream come true.

If Sabine had been the same Sabine he knew before, maybe things wouldn’t have changed course. If she had gone on ignoring it and he had gone on hiding it, maybe time would have faded his feelings, and maybe she never would have grown any for him.

But in a world where she holds him desperately near, near enough to feel his heartbeat and know he’s alive—in a world where their fledgling bond doesn’t lie dormant and unknown, but is woven strong and glows warmly, tethering their very souls together—in a world where he is everything to her, and she shows it—now that’s a different story. As he slowly finds out just how much he means to her—and he's grown to mean far more to her now than he did before—it throws him off-balance.

And as for her?

Well, this is where my Ramble Part 1 becomes relevant! Because he told her. And she knows. And now that she knows, she can’t look past it like it was never there, because it is there, and glaringly obvious when she looks for it. (She can't stop seeing it.)

The path they've always hoped to take—the one where it goes away and they are fast friends with nothing more between them—is no longer an option. By admitting his love, the other version of himself made it impossible for her to ignore it. By holding him so close, she makes it impossible for him to hide it. (In a way, they've doomed each other.) And she knows he can’t hide it, and he knows she can’t ignore it, so the only choice they have left—besides honest, which is a thing neither of them is ready to face—is to do their mutual best to pretend it doesn’t matter, and not talk about it.

But it does matter, and sooner or later, they'll have to talk about it.

And deep deep down, they both know that, too.

~~~

tune in next time for what I expect to be a ramble about a couple specific scenes! unless I write a different ramble first! We'll see!

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If there will be a next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

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

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

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

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

“After my shift, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[byeashhh]

Hello ✨ I am curious to know if you have some NSFW headcanons for Copia as well?

Have a good day/night ^^

i feel like for copia he’s such a complex blend of like awkward charm, repressed desire, surprising confidence, and deep craving for connection sooo NSFW under cut <3 ═════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═════ as always, requests are open <3 ═════ ≪ °❈° ≫ ═════ ⚠︎ MDNI. 18+. ADULT CONTENT. NSFW BELOW. ⚠︎

➤ copia has a very dirty mind and a vivid imagination—especially once he feels safe with you ➤ he’s hesitant at first, almost overly respectful, but once the floodgates open… jesus christ, he's filthy with his mouth . . . “such a good ragazza/ragazzo for me,” he groans, voice low and breathless. “taking me so well—so greedy, eh?” ➤ will whisper absolutely obscene things in your ear if you praise or encourage him. The filthier he gets, the more his confidence spikes. ➤ giving, receiving—copia lives to use his mouth. he’s eager, sloppy, and completely obsessed with watching you fall apart under his tongue ➤ going down on you is one of his favorite things. he’ll spend ages between your thighs, groaning when you tug his hair or grind against his face ➤ expect lots of muttering into your skin: “santo dio… taste so sweet. can’t get enough of you.” ➤ gets so smug when you cum—like “mission accomplished” smug. may tease you after with kisses just above where you’re sensitive ➤ copia is starved for validation—he thrives on praise and positive reinforcement in bed ➤ tell him how good he’s doing, how much you need him, how handsome he looks—he’ll melt into putty for you ➤ he blushes when you praise him but it also makes him absolutely feral. “say it again, tesoro. please. tell me i’m good for you.” ➤ the more you affirm him, the more dominant or daring he gets—it turns into a feedback loop of filthy praise and desperate pleasure ➤ copia is kinky—he’s read a lot, and fantasizes often—but he’s very consent-focused and needs emotional safety before trying anything intense ➤ light bondage? yes, please. being tied up or tying you up? even better. he finds control fascinating ➤ temperature play, roleplay, mutual masturbation, and sex toys are on his radar too—but he needs time to open up about those desires ➤ safe words? oh yes, he insists. even if things are soft and sweet, he always checks in afterward ➤ copia adores physical affection—the sex is great, but he’s especially addicted to the cuddling, forehead kisses, holding you post-orgasm kind of intimacy ➤ he loves to tangle limbs, to fall asleep with his head on your chest, to wake up to skin on skin ➤ lazy morning sex? his favorite. slow, unhurried, full of kisses and half-whispers. he’s soft and sleepy but very eager to please ➤ if you run your hands down his back while he’s inside you, whispering how close you feel, he’ll cum embarrassingly fast ➤ copia can play submissive or dominant depending on the vibe and your relationship. he likes to please ➤ submissive copia? moans, begs, and clings. loves being praised, edged, or denied (only if he’s been really bad) ➤ dominant copia? surprisingly firm, but never cruel. he loves giving orders, guiding you, restraining you gently, making you feel owned ➤ sex with copia in sacred spaces (or just semi-public ones) is a dangerous fantasy. he knows he shouldn’t… and that makes it hotter ➤ pulling you into a darkened alcove, hand under your skirt or pants, whispering “shhh… you have to be quiet for me” as he fingers you—he lives for the thrill ➤ he’ll blush like a mad man afterwards, but he absolutely jerks off thinking about it again that night

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Hello!!

I really enjoy and look forward to your works!! I'm always excited when i get a notification of yours jaja.

My friend and I are planning on beginning a fanfiction of our own. I was wondering if you could give any tips on the writing process or maybe things you wish someone had told you when you had started.

I hope you're having a lovely day!!!!

Hello @frizzothehobbit thank you so, so much for the wonderful ask! I've been thinking about this, and I wanted to consider it properly before I answered, because there's so much to talk about regarding this subject. But I can't be thinking about this for all eternity, so here it is, my answer!

First off, I feel like a dinosaur because I started writing fanfiction more than 20 years ago... dear lord, I'm ancient! And if everything feels daunting when starting out, it's because it is! But it doesn't really have to be. Why, you ask? Because if you've decided to write fanfiction, there's already passion behind your intentions, and that is SO important! So, first off, and everybody's favourite:

WRITE WHAT YOU WANT!

Which is basically the same as saying: write for yourself. And as overused as this expression is, it's still true. Obviously we, authors, thrive on comments and feedback: it makes us grow! - And when I say this I'm not just talking about positive feedback, but constructive feedback! - But if you write what you want and love it, you're already halfway to writing a good story. Next:

INVEST SOME TIME IN YOUR STORY!

We, as authors, all wrote (and will write) drabbles at one time or another. Or mindless one-shots that we just needed to get out of our heads and onto the page. It's sooo valid. But my advice if you want to write a longer story: plan it! It helps avoid the 'oh-so-dreaded' plot holes (and this is actual advice I would have loved when I started... it would have saved me a lot of unfinished fics!) And of course, no two people plan the story the same way. I, for one, just think it through in my head (mostly in the shower, before falling asleep or doing mindless tasks such as cleaning), but I know other authors who plan every chapter and every step of the way so, here's another one:

FIND WHAT WORKS FOR YOU!

Be it in storytelling (first person, past tense, present tense, different POVs...), in planning (plan every single detail, just plan the direction of the story or don't plan at all...) or in deciding how much of a canon character are you willing to change. And this brings me to another point:

DON'T BE SCARED TO WRITE OUT OF CHARACTER!

Nobody is going to crucify you for that! It's fanfiction, people, it's not a history paper or a thesis. If you find yourself constantly thinking about this, you'll always doubt your work, so try to avoid dwelling on it, if possible.

CHECK FOR TYPOS

Mistakes are going to happen. You just can't avoid them. Unless you find yourself a Beta (and even then, it happens!). Typos, grammar and spelling mistakes fly by us authors when we're excited about our storytelling, so re-read what you wrote as many times as you want/need! I know I must have my fair share of mistakes (alas, I apologise for English not being my native language in every fiction I write), but I re-read my chapters a lot of times (I'm not even going to say how many - it's unhealthy!) and trust me, it shows if you don't give your story at least a good thorough read! Speaking of reading...

READ! READ! READ! READ A LOT!

Devour books, fanfiction, papers... whatever you can get your hands on. It's another cliché when it comes to writing tips, but it's overused for a reason. Reading a lot helps build a great vocabulary! And it helps you avoid annoying repetitions... Which brings me to another awesome tip:

USE A THESAURUS!

Suuuuuuuch a big help! Especialy when you're not a native speaker! Sometimes I find myself so stuck on a word that a thesaurus truly saves my life! Also:

DON'T BE AFRAID TO EDIT!

The scene isn't turning out the way you wanted it? CUT IT! It doesn't move the story forward? CUT IT! It doesn't fit the character? CUT IT! I've cut entire 1k+ scenes from some of my fanfictions because they made the story take a turn that I didn't like! Which brings me to another important tip:

LET THE CHARACTERS DO THEIR THING!

Sometimes your character just runs away from you and starts doing stupid shit. It's a known fact amongst all authors. Just let them be. Run with it. If the scene doesn't suit the story (say it with me...) CUT IT! But I've found so many times that the best plots in my stories come from characters who just decided they didn't give a flying f**k about me and went rogue! Last but not least (and because this is becoming a thesis in itself):

DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED!

Not all fics get comments. Not all fics get a lot of views. Not everyone who reads and likes, will comment. It's alright. We authors are used to it. And although it's a known fact that many authors have praise kinks (me included), and love to know people read and like their stories, don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed.

I really didn't want to end on that sad note, and maybe some people will disagree with me, but it's astounding how big the difference is between views and likes (or kudos on AO3) and comments. #CommentsMatter!

Also, and here's an extra:

DON'T COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS!

We all have favourite authors, and we all wish we could write like someone we idealize (Oh, Edgar Allan Poe, how I adore thee!), but it's not fair to compare yourself to another author. You're not more or less than another writer! YOU'RE YOU! And that's already awesome!

Oof... maybe I could have gone on longer than this... maybe I could've added more tips. But this is what I thought of, and I do hope you, and other people, find them somewhat helpful! Thank you again for the wonderful ask!

Love you! ❤️

PS: Engage with the community! Not only is it heartwarming, comforting, and rewarding, but as a commenter myself, I love having little debates with authors about why they wrote a scene in a specific way, or what they have in mind for what's coming next! Whatever it is, I guarantee you'll have a good time!

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

Moon in the 12h in combination with esoteric astrology

Hi friends! I really hope you enjoy this deep dive into understanding the 12th house a bit more and the moon placement. I compare both traditional & esoteric astrology—which is the reading of the soul. Do enjoy, leave feedback & comments to help this blog! Also because I’m curious to hear your thoughts always. I am only doing research and sharing it!

The moon in esoteric astrology is regarded as the past, our visceral self, aka “the soul.” Known in traditional astrology the moon holds powerful ties to our past, ancestors and trauma. The moon is so much more than our everyday emotions. So how does this play into natives with the 12th house?

That is why it is important to understand the moon in an esoteric sense, alongside traditional astrology. The moon is regarded as “vulcan,” another term. The moon describes the kind of life we had in a previous life, imprinting on our current one. With this being the case, it represents our ego as well in a lot of ways.

Our ties to our past (both in our previous life, and past also meaning current trauma in this lifetime) can control us. If you choose to believe your past life is imprinting on your current, you can understand how the need to heal from the sabotage we did to ourselves is part of the “ego.” Ego in this sense has barely much to do with pride—its our visceral trauma responses.

And you can also understand how our current trauma in this lifetime can result in the need to protect ourselves and hide behind narratives and perspectives that do not help us (the ego).

Having moon in the 12th house can point to a previous lifetime, or your past trauma(if you don’t believe in past lives) where you experienced isolation and loneliness in the face of trauma. It’s the loneliness that contributes to trauma in the first place—whereas if you had a community it would’ve been managed completely different.

Moon in the 12th house can point to addiction to self sabotage, self harm, toxicity in relationships. Tolerating more than needed, ex: abuse. The native can feel alive in these hurtful conditions because it’s the one thing that makes them feel. But this can spiral unhealthily really fast.

When the native first approaches healing or peace—they can deem it as “boring,” because their nervous system has never been in this state before.

To get a closer look, in esoteric astrology, the NN can describe what kind of consciousness is playing out over your lifetimes or if you prefer it: this lifetime. What you are meant to learn, know, and evolve into with the wisdom you gather about yourself.

The SN in esoteric astrology describes our “past lifetime” “previous life” that is imprinting on our current. Or if you prefer it: your trauma currently needing healing.

For example a NN in Taurus, SN in Scorpio native: their trauma/past lifetime could have included multiple losses, and grief. Losing a parent due to abandonment, experiencing separation of the parents or being neglected. Or all of it. It’s very likely the native experienced eating issues as a way to have control over their life, i.e. hurting themselves brings a sense of “control,” even though it is considered unhealthy.

SN in Scorpio could have also made the native experience exclusion in their community. Their peers could have disliked them from a young age, and the native struggled to find their community. Once again—replaying that loneliness they experienced.

NN in Taurus teaches the native that part of their peace comes from going within and validating their emotions from what they experienced. To experience control by releasing control over external factors. To not just survive off of physical means, but to create an emotionally stable environment to thrive.

The moon is also considered a death stage esoterically, meaning this isn’t about fertility, nor is it about ripening seeds, or manifesting. This is about ending cycles of addiction, pain and suffering.

The only thing coming next after the moon, systemically is the earth where the healing begins, metaphorically speaking. Where the native feels stability internally to begin planting seeds and maintaining them.

If I were to tie this into 12h moon placements—it’s that you need to plant your seeds. You need to materialize your hopes and dreams and not victimize yourself through past patterns. You need to do more than survive, and allow yourself to thrive. To become so safe enough that you root yourself in new communities and feel worthy enough to explore earth. And that means starting with yourself.

I suppose that’s why a lot of 12th house moons have a “scorpionic” vibe. It’s because they carry the moons death energy, aka the “vulcan.” The moon esoterically is death after all, and so many natives have experienced constant endings and beginnings with this placement. They have seen so many dimensions to life—too much for it to be simple.

The 12th house itself

In esoteric astrology, the 12th house is regarded as the “bondage” to the “ego.” If you really our earlier explanation, the ego is our trauma and formed response to keep us safe.

This house rules over ignorance of our trauma, the inability to receive help, only feeding into the loop of self sabotage.

In traditional astrology views the 12th house as “hidden,” or “secretive.” Esoteric astrology acknowledges it differently—they see it as a vessel into the underworld. A gateway. A vast network of telepathy within the natives community.

They acknowledge this as not necessarily hidden, but the native taking a deep dive into mass consciousness that exists in front our eyes.

Therefore, it’s not really a secret if you pay attention.

Then, the native is able to access that “hidden knowledge,” and turn it into public knowledge. Although many of the times this is considered taboo knowledge since the native can know things other people consider, “heavy,” “dark,” or “disturbing.” Even though, the native knows having critical complex thoughts is necessary.

It is necessary to think critically, according to the native given their complex life experiences. The native actually has a lot of “hidden” resources at their disposal in this lifetime and can use it to their will. Manifestation, universal laws, spiritual insight, etc whatever you call it.

Some may fixate on the 12th house as the ego driven house—again, fear, trauma and loss. Whilst this is absolutely true of the natives, esoteric astrology adds another meaning. It also means resurrection of the soul of the native. The purest form and light. Alchemy of the ego.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed! I really appreciate ya’ll being here and taking the time to read. Your feedback is appreciated.

Extra

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[youreyeson1y]

THREE — ITS FOR ITZY

cw — swearing, typos, ignore timestamps!

PREVIOUS < MASTERLIST > NEXT

MI'S NOTES: my guys please leave some comments/feedback man or otherwise i'll just assume y'all hate this 😭😭 (yes i thrive on validation what's new 😔)

STEAL THE SHOW. a kim seungmin smau

SYNOPSIS — kang y/n's focus was divided between the looming competition and the obnoxious and infuriating kim seungmin. his mocking and sarcastic online jabs sparked her retaliation, entertaining the university with their petty banter. but as their online repartee became routine, curiosity supplanted irritation, threatening her priorities and composure.

TAGLIST — open! (send in an ask to be added 🤍)

@babrieeee, @starlostastronaut, @charlieg1rl, @queen-in-the-shadows, @estella-novella, @saintcosette, @chocolateislife, @yaniiiiism, @gnabnahcbby, @seungzsmin, @puppy-minnie, @jeonginnieswifey, @sincerely-sun, @bookswillfindyouaway, @keiizzx

[pjisskullourful]

im getting released from the horny jail, packin up my stuff& going back to the outside world/to wuatever is next

im really sorry to say that im quitting. the spark has well& truly left me. it tapered off & off til writing literally felt like a punishment. every sentence felt like pushing a huge boulder up a hill& thats not how i want it to be, this started as exciting& freeing& fun& it just slowly stopped being that because of alot of factors. the morning routine fic was me trying to see if the magic was still there& it just wasnt, its not the same anymore

i always said that i would do this as long as it made sense so its stopped making sense for my life. it fucking sucks, im genuinely really upset to lose something that felt so right& was so rewarding & gave me something to keep me steady etc. i've been putting this decision off but i talked with my therapist yesterday& kinda had to just face it

i wont be deleting anything from here or ao3, so im not taking the fics from anyone

i feel like shit that im leaving some series' unfinished

& i feel awful about requests that never got completed cos i so appreciated people seeking me out etc. i do have some unfinished requests etc that maybe i could share what i have thusfar for people to see? if anyone would be interested in more unfinished stuff?

im not saying this is forever, i would love to be able to finish the things i started & whatnot*. but for rightnow, im outta here, i cant keep hating myself for not writing any words/'enough words' everyday. i cant guarantee i wont be back but i also cant guarantee i will be

thank you so much to everyone who supported in any shape or form, this was fhe most fun i'd ever had writing. i cant believe i got commissioned as many times as i did& achieved a longstanding dream of making money from my writing. thanks to everyone whomanifested with me& got me on that stage with måneskin so ethan could look at me& say thank you - these are things i will literally never forget

*if were really talking about what i would love, i would love to go back to that first year here, where i was getting sooooo much feedback& validation& there was just so much going on in the fandom& we were thriving & going nuts so often, that was fuckin magic

[nottheangel-raphael]

When Raphael told Gabriel he wanted to build a relationship with him like the rest of his sons, he meant it. He'd always been a man of his word except for the times he wasn't or his words held very different implications demons were known for with their tricky tongues. Part of that involved reviewing his more scientifically-inclined offspring's research on essentially achieving a level of godhood and providing his feedback, which explained the ghoul walking right into Oymyakon Clinic to deliver them to Gabriel unannounced. The man who normally revolved around calendars and schedules daily used this free moment as a spontaneous opportunity to observe his youngest at work without the time to prepare some sort of spectacle for his father. Even this early in their interactions Raph noted Gabriel had a flair for the dramatics that could've absolutely come from himself. Pride demons did thrive on attention, validation, and promoting a perfected picture of themselves in the public eye after all.

Except it seemed that Raphael picked the perfect time for Gabriel to not be in his office. Or at least the warlock was nowhere he could find him.

Still, he wasn't alone in this building that he wandered through, investigating the clean walls and white floors, state of the art tech, and modern minimalist design in search of his son. This was his first time stepping into the clinic he had no use for as a rapidly healing immortal creature. He lacked the patience to explore every room available to him as a lone visitor and set his sights on the dark-haired beauty in scrubs. "Excuse me," he announced himself, approaching Soren as his practiced charming smile spread over his features with ease. "I am looking for Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca. Do you know where he might be?"

@ravisurendra

[bratbarzal]

💛💛 popping back in again! Not with fic commentary this time around but wanted to send a message bc of yesterday/todays events

I feel I’m in agreement with the anons/blogs I’ve been reading on here that there are BIG accountability issues that need to be talked ab (tags,disclaimers, ai use, hate messages, etc) and I appreciate that you are bringing light to it and standing your ground. The amount of heavy/dark content that is being pushed and put into tags for anyone to see is actually appalling. Im not shaming on anyone who does read that type of content that is personal choice, but such topics are extremely trigging and should not be made so accessible ( warning labels, disclaimers, content descriptions, and read more buttons) any if not all should be used on 18+ content

As for AI use.. it just makes me so angry. I hate in general, I hate it even more when it is used in creative spaces. Writing/consuming fanfic is fun, and is a great use of exploring your creativity and writing skills. No matter how cringey,cheesy, or beginner level stories may be, it will be made be a real person and that is what matters. I find it absolutely ridiculous that that blog is back up ( i know there is no control over it, but being gone barely a month and trying to seem like its water under the bridge is definitely something :/ ) Anyone wanting to write is obviously so welcome to do! Do it with grammar errors, rocky plots, cheesy dialogue, and blunt endings. Don’t ever steal content or use AI garbage (especially for cheap validation points!!!) There will be blogs and anons that will come with nasty defense and I find that incredibly sad ( the only bright side that came from it was being able to clean house on tags and unfortunately some of my following)

There is a great community of blogs on here that put so much effort into their writing and just overall have a great community on the page as well (yours obviously, star2fishmeg, theemporium, letsgetrowdy43, to name a few but there are many of other blogs out there as well ) I hope any blogs that had their content stolen, or are hesitant to share bc of anons that might come from that blog &co. know that there are people and blogs that will gladly appreciate them and their content, and will always speak up when accountability needs to be dealt.

All and all, I believe karma will do it’s job in the end, I for one will be putting my focus into blogs that put thought & effort into their content and make the internet a safer place to be :)

YELLOW HEART ANON LOML!!!

yes yes yes!!!! I'm never gonna sit here and dictate what people should be reading or writing but there really needed to be a discussion about the tags!! if it's tagged appropriately then we can all coincide in a safe and creative space, but if not it becomes overwhelming with dark and disturbing topics that not everyone should have such easy access to!!

YES YES YES AGAIN!!!! writing isn't about churning out content fic after fic day after day it's about creating something and sharing it no matter how good or bad it may be - you made something, you poured your heart into something and the reward is even just one reader consuming it and reaching out!! I can't comprehend what sort of personal validation you could even get out of receiving feedback on a fic you didn't even write? like are you patting yourself on the back for the use of copy/paste?

AI use in creative spaces is honestly inexcusable I can't get behind it, I don't understand it, I'll never defend it - our lives are becoming so inundated with false images and false narratives that it's our responsibilities as creatives to speak the truth - and that applies to emotions and feelings in fiction, too!!

there really is a great community of writers on here, love you for shouting out specifics too @theemporium @star2fishmeg @letsgetrowdy43 this is truly a space for creatives to thrive and it creates such a beautiful environment when we are allowed and encouraged to so do!!

100% the writing community will always come through for each other in my experience!!

love you a lot, you always put such heart and intention into your messages it really means a lot to me!! i hope a million good things come your way yellow heart anon you truly are a gem in this community, too 💕💕💕

[jungkoode]

KIKI'S GENERAL FAQ | READ BEFORE ASKING!

1. What are goals and when do you update? Goals exist to track ongoing engagement and make sure a story is still wanted. Because I have a large and active readership, I use them to gauge whether interest is steady—not just a one-time spike. It helps me decide which projects to prioritize and ensures I’m not writing into silence. This isn’t about withholding content or chasing numbers. It’s about keeping things sustainable and making sure the story is still connecting with people. For a story to update, the goal has to be reached and maintained on both Tumblr and Wattpad. That includes keeping all previously unlocked chapters above their original goal—not just the latest one. It’s about overall support, not isolated hype. If you’re a new reader, this helps you land in a story that’s visibly alive and still moving. If you’re a regular, this keeps your faves afloat. I don’t have a posting schedule. My work hours in tax enforcement and law are brutal (10–12 hrs/day), so I update at my own pace once goals are met and maintained. If you want more, show up when you can. If the story shows consistent support, it continues. Simple as that.

1.5 Why do the goals go up with each chapter?

Because with each new chapter, the story grows—and so should the support behind it. Higher goals aren’t a punishment, they’re a reflection of increased visibility and reader base. If a story is gaining momentum, the goals adjust accordingly to keep it sustainable and worth continuing. It’s also a way to avoid passive drop-off. If fewer people are showing up over time, that tells me the story may have run its course for now. If more are joining, that gets reflected too. Stories that hold attention move forward. That’s the whole point. Please don’t comment things like “(number) votes??” “that’s too low” or “that’s too high” or “X had this goal and Z this goal”—those remarks may seem harmless, but they create a tone of passive judgment and have previously led to unnecessary guilt-tripping within the community. I remove them to protect the reading environment. This space is not for promoting negativity or bad faith toward systems that are already clearly explained. We’re here to enjoy stories, not complain about how they’re structured.

2. Well, I don’t like the goal system? That’s your opinion, and that’s okay. But I’m not changing it. The system exists because I need structure to stay motivated and grounded in what I’m doing because I don’t have a functional inward reward system. That’s not up for debate. I’m not interested in rehashing the reasons—I’ve explained them before, and it got used against me, so I’m not doing that again. What matters is this: people who are part of this community understand what the system is, accept it willingly, and thrive within it. We vibe. If it’s not for you, that’s completely valid—you’re not being held hostage. You’re free to engage or disengage as you see fit. But the system stays. The updates will come as indicated. This is not a suggestion box. I’m not looking for feedback or permission. It is what it is and it’s how I work with my own brain instead of against it.

3. What stories do you update and in what order? My current priority list according to engagement is as follows: FMU (Fuck Me Up), KGP (Kkangpae), then 25H (The 25th Hour). If your fave isn’t here, hype it up and boost the engagement goals. Priority list is always subject to change.

4. Why do you update so slowly sometimes? Because I edit a lot, I let chapters marinate, and I always come back with fresh eyes before posting. I don’t rush it—I want to feel good about what I put out. Also, I work on multiple fics at once! It helps me stay creatively stimulated and prevents burnout (been there, don’t recommend). I know catering to the most popular fic makes sense from the outside, but I need variety to stay present and excited about writing. That’s healthier than disappearing for 6 months because I pushed myself too hard, right? (￣▽￣*)ゞ

5. Why do you use character x reader tags on non-story posts? Because everything I post—asks, snippets, chaos, theories—ties back to the fics. Tags help people find my work. If it’s not your vibe, feel free to mute or filter. Curate your own experience. Love & light (∩˃o˂∩)♡

6. Do you use “Y/N”? Will characters ever call the OC by their real name? Nope. Absolutely not. “Y/N” gives me hives. I use nicknames that evolve with the character arc. Real names are basically a jump-scare. It’s intentional. It’s immersive. It’s emotional devastation on a timer.

7. How can I find your drabbles? Go to my masterlist (linked in the pinned navi post) → find the fic → click the Tumblr index → scroll to the ‘chapter guide’ section. If there’s no drabble section, there’s no drabble. Only main fics have them, not series. (¬‿¬)

8. Why are all your stories slow burns? Because I don’t know how to write fast emotional resolution. I am spiritually allergic to insta-love. My characters are damaged and slow and weird about feelings. If you think “nothing’s happening,” you’re probably just ignoring the emotional damage unfurling like a rotisserie chicken. I write what I like to read—and I like pain with payoff.

9. Why are your characters so messy and bad at communication? Because people are like that. They don’t sit down and say “let’s process our trauma.” They repress, self-sabotage, overthink, spiral. That’s what I write. I’m not interested in perfect people. I’m interested in real ones.

10. Why do characters hook up with other people in character x reader fics? Because psychological realism is the foundation of my work. My characters aren’t emotionally available at the start. They don’t know what they want. They seek comfort in the wrong places. These are stories about why they’re broken, not just about who they end up with. If you’re here just for the endgame couple, you’re missing the point.

11. Do you really put that much thought into every detail? Yes. Every beat, every shift, every word is intentional. My writing is character-driven, trauma-conscious, and layered with psychological nuance. Surface-level reading will leave you confused and mad. If you want proof, this post breaks down the kind of detail I embed. I’m playing 4D chess with your feelings.

12. Do you write smut? Yes. But I don’t drop it in like seasoning. It has to mean something narratively. When I write it? It’s long. It’s filthy. It’s psychological. It’s the kind of thing you read under a blanket and pretend didn’t ruin you. And no, it’s not in every chapter. But when it hits, it hits.

13. Can I criticize your characters or their choices? Absolutely—if it’s thoughtful. I love deep dives, analysis, alternate interpretations. But if you’re just yelling “this is dumb,” you’re not engaging with the material, you’re being loud and wrong. My characters’ choices come from their backstories, not from plot convenience.

14. Why don’t you reply to every ask/comment/DM? Because I get hundreds. I have more than 400 in my inbox right now. My notis are disabled because of the amount I get on the daily. I reply to what I manage to see and catches my attention—unhinged asks, deep meta, cool questions, chaos. If I don’t answer yours, it’s not personal. I’m not ignoring you on purpose. I’m probably fighting for my life under a pile of caffeine and deadlines. Also, I insta-block controversial, petty, negative, hateful, shade-throwing and drama-stirring anons/blogs, so just know these are never making it to my inbox.

15. What is Kiki Nation? That’s what I call the reader collective that follows my work. It started as a joke from koopsy and now it’s the official fan cult. If you’ve ever screamed at one of my characters in the tags, you’re already part of it. No application needed. Just vibes.

16. How can I support you? You can support me through Ko-fi! You can tip whatever amount you want, or choose to subscribe monthly (3€/5€/8€—whatever you feel comfortable with). Monthly subs get access to early updates and sneak peeks! If money’s tight, no worries—supporting me doesn’t have to be financial. You can also help me out by recommending my fics to others, making moodboards, quote edits, tweets screaming about scenes, or even TikToks (Venus, aka @taeteringontheedge, made some about FMU and they hit 2k views!). Recommending my fics on BTS fanfic TikTok rec threads or commenting under “any fic recs?” posts helps too—Faya did this once and her comment got 140 likes! All of that means the world to me.

BONUS: HOW TO READ MY FICS WITHOUT LOSING YOUR MIND (aka the Susan clause)

Your comfort comes first. Author intros are written for a reason. I literally hand you all the themes, dynamics, and red flags on a platter. If you read it anyway and then cry because “this made me uncomfortable”—Susan, that’s on you. Read the damn intro. Personal preferences ≠ morally correct. Learn the difference.

I don’t need moral policing. My characters are not moral paragons, Susan. They're complicated, messy, and traumatized. If you’re looking for moral lessons and healing crystals, you’re lost. Take a left turn at AO3 and go read a coffee shop AU. This ain’t it.

Surface reading is offensive. If you skim through just to say “omg she’s annoying,” then congrats—you are the annoying one. Yes, Susan, I saw your little pink comment. TW lists and intros exist for a reason. Use them. Or log out.

Slow burn means slow. burn. If you’re frustrated, good. That means it’s working. No, Susan, I will not condense a 500k emotional dissection into 80k just because you “don’t like waiting.” Go read a drabble. This is suffering by design.

Messy ≠ bad writing. My characters aren’t here to be liked, Susan. They’re here to spiral and trauma-bond and make deeply flawed decisions. Just because you wouldn’t react like that doesn’t mean it’s unrealistic. You are not the blueprint for humanity. Sit down.

Think deeper. If your big takeaway from a 7k chapter is “so he slept with someone else = bad,” then I need you to go back and ask yourself one question: why. What was he avoiding? What emotion triggered it? What came right before that scene? If you’re just tallying body counts like it’s a middle school gossip board, you’re missing everything.

You are responsible for reading my author’s intros. I say this in every intro, FAQ, about me, and author’s note. If you skipped the intro and are now shocked Pikachu over the themes? That’s not a me problem. That’s a Susan problem. ITS. ON. YOU. I’m OUT.

Discussion is welcome. I love analysis. I love theories. I will eat your psychological essays like cereal. If you come at me with depth and curiosity, I will genuinely scream in the tags with you. But if you come in with shallow takes and no effort—

I will block you, Susan. Yes, you. If you ignore all this, refuse to think, send me the 40th “this made me uncomfy” “she’s annoying” “you’re dragging it” “my baby jungkook wouldn’t do that” message after skipping all the intros—I am strangling you pressing block with a smile on my face. Tumblr gives me one button. I use it generously.

I make this very clear:

I say it in my author intros, Susan.

I say it in my about me section, Susan.

I say it in this FAQ, Susan.

I say it in every single chapter’s notes, Susan.

If you skipped all four? Baby girl. I can’t help you. Enjoy the block.

[teatime-tangents-and-toys]

The thing I treasure so much about Tumblr is the culture of passion and creativity and active sharing. The users are the active algorithm spreading things they love from each other consciously and directly. "Niche" is the law of the land and people care about art and media here in the best ways. The people here will shriek and keysmash and vocalize on your posts in the most uplifting, enriching, rewarding possible way. You can expect actual text feedback here! Unmarketability is cherished and thrives! Affectionately, lovingly, no one here is normal!

My long time lurking and brief time participating has told me very clearly that real people are here to do stuff because they're weird and they care and not because it's shiny and popular and ad-friendly, and somehow things have persisted thus far. That's been me for a while, and here, that's been wonderfully validated.

Thanks for the new home. Instagram drained my soul.