#Christmas rush queue systems

[qwaiting]

Discover how implementing a queue management system can transform the Christmas rush into a business opportunity. By streamlining customer flow, reducing wait times, and improving service efficiency, businesses can enhance customer satisfaction, boost sales, and create a smooth holiday shopping experience.

[blazehedgehog]

So when stories about the Xbox 360 having red ring/heat problems started coming in, I began to worry that my 360 would be struck with it at the worst timing. When Microsoft began offering free repairs, there were stories about people intentionally smothering their Xbox with a blanket to force a red ring.

I seriously considered smothering my 360, but it turns out I didn't have to. For some reason my brain has latched on to the date of November 22nd, 2006 as when this happened, but my Xbox 360 red ringed itself. It was easy to blame Sonic 06 as the culprit, given I had just finished the game barely even a week earlier.

When you registered for a free red ring of death repair, what actually happened is you'd send your console in, and Microsoft would instantly ship you out somebody else's refurbished console. This kept queue times low, and it made sure they weren't hung up forever personally repairing everyone's individual console. (They asked you to remove your HDD before you sent your console in, so you could keep your saves and downloads)

So I put in the repair order and shipped my console off, expecting to get a replacement in a couple weeks. This was 2006, before everything sent you notifications about anything, so once you shipped your console, that was it. You couldn't track repair status or anything, I don't think.

A whole month passed. No Xbox. Well, okay, it's Christmas, right? Maybe they're backed up. Maybe they're on vacation. I can't really blame them for a small delay.

And I was patient. I'd bought this Xbox 360 because I'd won grand prize in a video contest on Gametrailers.com in August of 2006. The prize was $1000, spread across two different Gamestop gift cards, and I did not spend the whole thing on the Xbox. In total, I'd gotten:

An Xbox 360

Pre-ordered Sonic 2006 (the first pre-order I'd ever made, and my only 360 game)

Ninja Gaiden Black (Xbox)

Forza Motorsport (Xbox)

Spider-man 2 (Xbox)

A refurbished Playstation 2 (first time owner)

Dragon Ball Z: Budokai 3 (PS2)

Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty (PS2)

Metal Gear Solid 3: Subsistence (PS2)

Kingdom Hearts (PS2)

Klonoa 2: Lunatea's Veil (PS2)

The Incredible Hulk: Ultimate Destruction (PS2)

A Nintendo DS Lite

New Super Mario Bros. (DS)

Mario Kart DS (DS)

Sonic Rush (DS)

Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow (DS)

And then, closer to November, I spent the last of the money pre-ordering The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess for the Gamecube.

So even though I didn't have the Xbox 360, I had plenty of other toys to play with.

But by the time it became the end of January, I started to wonder. It was coming up on THREE MONTHS. Surely they couldn't be that backed up, right? I'd long since finished NSMB, Sonic Rush, Castlevania, Dragon Ball, and Klonoa. Christmas was over. Heck, New Years was over. They'd be back to work by now. Where the hell was my Xbox?

So I had to call them. I gave them my repair work order ID, and I was informed that while they registered my console entering their repair facility in McAllen, Texas, it disappeared from their system after that. In other words: They lost it. The guy on the other end was very apologetic and quick to smooth things over.

Before I'd called, I was talking to friends. They'd told me to get angry. Even artificially angry. Squeaky wheel gets the grease and all that. I tried to summon up the courage to sound indignant: "Is there anything else you can do to set this right? Maybe a free game?"

It probably sounded more like nervous begging.

The voice on the other end of the line stammered. "Um. Sure, we've got a few games lying around. You could have Perfect Dark Zero or Project Gotham Racing 3."

I knew about Perfect Dark's reputation, and I'd played a little bit at an in-store demo kiosk. PGR3 it was.

Deep down in my heart, I was hoping for Gears of War, or maybe Oblivion. There was a time, 2003 or 2004, where Microsoft sent me a 20 minute Windows product survey and the payment was Halo: Combat Evolved for the PC. It felt opulent. Every product survey I've ever done since then, I think about the time Microsoft gave me a $40 PC game for 20 minutes of my time. I was hoping they were still that generous. Beyond Sonic 06, Oblivion was part of the reason I'd wanted a 360, and Gears of War was lighting up the charts.

I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. I was more than fine with PGR3.

Within two days (by now the first days of February 2007), I'd had my replacement Xbox 360, and a factory fresh copy of PGR3 packaged along with it. They'd paid for free expedited shipping. About 30 minutes after getting it unboxed and hooked up, the phone rang.

It was Xbox. The same repair center guy I'd spoken to not even 48 hours earlier was calling me to make sure I received the package okay and was satisfied with the console.

In truth, I was not.

These were refurbished consoles, remember. And I assume they had to turn things around pretty quickly to keep pace with demand. Usually there isn't a problem with buying refurbs, but occasionally you run into things where a refurbished item will pass inspection but is otherwise still damaged. The 360 they had sent me was one such case.

The first thing I did after hooking the console up was begin downloading demos I'd missed. This included the stone cold classic Crackdown 1 demo. I was actually in the middle of trying it out when the phone rang, and I was already noticing problems. The intro movie for different middlewares and company logos would often stutter and skip, which seemed odd to me. Then, while driving around in the demo, I'd hit an area where the textures stopped loading.

A couple of other games displayed other stuttering problems, as well. These were problems that didn't happen with my original console. I was suspicious they had sent me a bogus replacement.

The guy at the repair center brushed me off. "Sometimes that just happens," he told me. "Don't worry about it."

I pressed him, repeating again that these weren't issues with my previous console. I told him I was concerned this replacement was already on its way out.

He suddenly got terse and cut me off mid-sentence. "The console is working right now, isn't it?"

I was kind of taken back.

"Uh, yeah, I guess?"

"Then everything is in order. I hope you have a great day."

Click. He instantly hung up on me before I could say anything else.

That 360 continued to show signs of its growing problem. The textures not loading in the Crackdown demo became my litmus test for how it was getting worse. Soon, other games started experiencing the occasional polygon explosion error.

If you don't know what a polygon explosion is, it's basically this:

Its severity depended on what game I was playing, and sometimes it would go away if I closed and rebooted the game.

I have a distinct memory of booting up the Tomb Raider Underworld demo in October of 2008 and it being a totally unplayable, because all the visuals were stretched, warped polygon explosions, all the time. There was no normal gameplay in view anywhere, and while trying to adjust the camera, the game straight up froze.

By now, the Crackdown demo consistently loaded into a completely untextured world, and sometimes would trigger its own polygon explosions. Other games were beginning to lock up as well. This system was three sheets to the wind.

Here's the deal though: since it wasn't a red ring of death? Microsoft was a lot less charitable. The repair center wanted $100 to fix the bogus 360 they sent me, and they refused to hear anything I had to say about how it was their fault to begin with. Cough up the hundred bucks or hit the road, kid.

I remembered the smothering trick. I wrapped the 360 in a blanket, popped in Sonic 06, and ran around Soleanna for a while. I ran through all of the levels at least once.

The Red Ring of Death was caused by a heat issue inside the console. The CPU would get so hot it would begin to make the motherboard flex and warp from the heat, and the solder they used to keep the chip in place would weaken. After long enough, the CPU would wiggle loose and lose contact with the board, resulting in a total system failure.

Refurbished 360's, as I came to learn, "fixed" this issue by absolutely DROWNING the CPU contacts in solder (or whatever adhesive they were using). They made absolutely certain that chip could not budge come hell or high water. If you had a refurbished 360, the only way to get it to red ring a second time was basically to take a sledgehammer to it.

In other words, I could smother this console all day, every day, and it would probably never red ring.

So I decided to go over their heads.

Six or eight months before I won the Gametrailers contest, around March of 2006, I shooted my shot: I emailed Xbox's Major Nelson.

I wanted to play Oblivion so badly that I was actually having dreams about it. I woke up from one of these dreams and was feeling particularly bold. Major Nelson was the Xbox brand/community manager at the time, so intrinsically ingrained as the voice of the people at Xbox that he publicly listed his email address and encouraged anyone to email him.

So, I metaphorically got down on my hands and knees, and I begged. I told him who I was: fledgling game developer, and wanna-be games media "journalist." And the one thing that would help kickstart one or both of those careers would be an Xbox 360. It'd be great PR, too. I ended the email humbly saying I realized what a ridiculous request I was making, but that "it never hurts to ask." Even if the answer is no.

Major Nelson responded a day or two later with some very kind words, and ultimately told me he'd love to give me an Xbox 360... when we met in person at E3. Did he mean it? Was he calling my bluff? E3 wasn't open to the public in these days, but it wasn't hard for people like me to get a press pass if they really, really wanted them. There were always stories of people from the public getting in.

Needless to say, I was too poor and too chicken. Didn't have the money and didn't have the guts. But he ended it saying if I ever had any other questions, he'd love to talk to me again.

So they lost my console, sent me a broken refurb, and were now asking me for $100 to fix their mistake? I decided to see if there was anything Major Nelson could do about it. Again, it never hurts to ask.

The best he could do: $50 off. I'd still have to pay $50 to get it fixed. I didn't like it, but it was better than nothing.

The next Xbox 360 they sent me worked all the way up until about 2019, when its disc tray mechanism finally gave out after 11 years of service. I replaced it with an Xbox 360 E.

I'd like to end this saying it might make me sound like a loser to say I flat out emailed Major Nelson and begged for freebies. That may be true, and it's also true that I really wanted to play Oblivion.

However: Upon winning the GameTrailers video competition and buying that 360, it really did actually change my life. That Xbox 360 is the entire reason my Youtube channel became what it is today, and that Xbox 360 did in fact get me my first paying games writing gig. It really did jumpstart whatever you might consider the tatters of a career. That wasn't a lie.

A Eulogy for my Playstation 4 Pro

So since I was a brain genius who decided to transfer all my fundraiser money to my bank account on a weekend, let's have a little eulogy for my poor Playstation 4 Pro.

I bought it in 2017 after a hellish move from Colorado to Nevada. We'd lived in Colorado for 26 years, and rented the same house for 24 of those years. I literally grew up in that house. Then our landlords got greedy (as all landlords eventually do), almost tripled our rent, and we had to move.

One of the last things I did before I packed up my computer was release The Definitive Way to Play Sonic Adventure on Youtube. That video was a modest success, but it had a secondary effect where a no-commentary gameplay video I'd uploaded for the fangame Sonic Utopia got picked up by the algorithm as a result, and that video suddenly took off like wildfire. I found myself sitting on a pair of videos that were about to pull in close to a combined 3 million views. It was the most I'd had a video blow up in a very long time.

I was now flush with a few thousand dollars of cash that I could do whatever I wanted with. That was great, as I got to help cover some moving expenses. I gave my Mom some money, I paid one of the deposits on our new apartment, paid to fix some stuff that got broken in the move, I bought myself a new desk, new computer chair, some storage shelves, a new bed frame, and still had about $700 left to spare. So I bought a PS4 Pro and a small handful of games (The Nathan Drake Collection, Yakuza Kiwami, The Last of Us Remastered, and Parappa the Rapper Remastered, I think). It was the first true next-generation console I'd bought in 11 years -- I'd had a Wii U, but that doesn't count.

Within that first year, I'd already run into my first problem with that Playstation 4. Back in the Xbox 360 era, I had a moment in my life where I was a psychopath that was running a media server off my PC. Every morning I'd wake up, download everything my Youtube subs had posted the day before, along with whatever GiantBomb had uploaded that day, and threw it up on the media server. The 360 could see the server, and those downloads would basically become my background noise for the day. I watched the entire GiantBomb Persona 4 Endurance Run that way: on the 360, through my media server. For context, these were the days before there was any way to watch Youtube on a television. There was no app. Youtube was just a website. So the Media Server was what I had to do to see Youtube on another screen.

In the move out to Nevada, I'd bought a cheap 32GB USB thumbdrive from the back-to-school section at Wal-mart and filled it full of movies and videos and stuff. With the PS4 set up, I plugged that thumbdrive in and tried out the PS4's media player capabilities, hoping it worked like the Xbox 360.

It did... for about 45 minutes. In the middle of watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie the media player suddenly crashed and refused to see the USB thumbdrive anymore. I reached down to pull it out only to find it was almost too hot to touch. I might have actually dropped the thumbdrive because it shocked me just how hot it was. I have never felt a piece of electronics be that hot before.

For the rest of that day, that USB port was dead. Nothing you plugged into it would be recognized. Eventually, it finally started working with controllers, but it never accepted any other thumbdrives, ever.

After about three years, I started to notice recordings were starting to get a little weird. Clips I'd record of my Fortnite matches would have huge 2-3 second chunks go missing, or the encoding would corrupt and smear. But then it went away, so I figured maybe it was just a problem with the game and not the console. It'd come back every now and then, maybe once a year, but it only ever happened with Fortnite, and only occasionally.

About a year and a half ago, I started to notice something else weird. Unless there was a specific game I needed to play for work stuff (like Sonic Frontiers or whatever), my PS4 was mostly just a Fortnite machine, and mainly because the PC version of Fortnite is a disaster.

But for months I'd left a disc in my PS4's disc drive. I think it was probably Balan Wonderworld or something, and as I booted up Fortnite for my daily founder's mission rewards, I noticed a sound. I'd been hearing it on and off for a while, but now I was finally paying attention to it. I realized: the console was sitting there scanning the disc, over and over and over, like it couldn't read it. I'd hear the disc motor spin up, the soft click-click-click as the read head scanned for data. It'd spin down, spin up, click-click-click, whirrrrrr, click-click, spin down, spin up, etc. Over and over. It'd do this for a good 30-45 seconds, then finally settle down and identify the disc.

The first time I noticed this, I ejected the Balan disc and put in something else; I think it was Dreams. PS4 read the disc instantly. I shrugged, figured maybe the Balan disc was just cursed and didn't think anything of it.

About a week later, I caught it doing it with the disc for Dreams. And then Sonic Frontiers. Then Sonic Superstars. Pretty much any disc I'd put in there. As the months wore on, it started taking multiple minutes for it to identify the disc.

A few weeks before it died, I ended up taking the disc out and basically resigning myself to only putting a disc in if I was going to play it, and removing that disc the moment I was done, because that scanning process seemed like it was making the problem worse.

A few months before it died, I got a full hardware crash on the console. The error code it gave me pointed to a hardware failure, but a google revealed that it was a generic error code that could mean literally anything. Right around this time, the video corruption in my Fortnite recordings came back around. I had a feeling it was the HDD.

Thus began the saga of trying to replace my PS4's HDD. I knew it could take SSDs, so I did some research, saved up $100, and bought a 2TB SSD that was compatible with the console. Followed Sony's official instructions on replacing the HDD, and...

It didn't work.

I vowed to get my money back and order a different HDD, but prices went up and realizing the other mounting problems with this machine (including the fried USB port), and my general mood overall, I just kept the money and figured I'd ride or die until the machine breathed its last.

8 months later... it refused to boot up at all.

Rest in piece, king. The only other console I've ever had straight up die on me like this was my Xbox 360, and if I'm being honest, I kind of smothered that poor boy a little bit hoping to get a sturdier console back from the repair center.

(I did not, but that's a story for another day.)

[badassbabeparker]

New Year, Newborn [P.P]

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! I am so ready for what 2023 will bring and I thought how better to celebrate the new year than with a fluffy dad!peter fic. I also have some angst I might post next week but my course will be restarting so I might not have as much time. Anyway enjoy!

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: none :)

The morning seemed like any other morning, sunlight streamed onto your face unwelcomed after another restless night of sleep. It didn’t occur to you after the rush of the last week that today was anything but a new day. 

The space next to you was cold and empty. Your husband was already out of bed, having responded to the last cry of your newborn son. You wrapped your warm robe around you to guard against the cold December air and made your way to the nursery. 

The sight that met your tired eyes melted your heart; Peter was sat in the armchair next to the crib, his PJ shirt on the floor as he had skin to skin contact with his son. Those parenting books Peter had bought online the moment you had discovered you were pregnant hadn’t been such a waste of time after all. 

Light snores escaped Peter’s lips as he held Ben in his arms. Both of them looked more peaceful then they had since Ben had been born. You snuck a picture with your phone and went to go and grab breakfast as a treat for you and Peter. Parenting was hard work and you thought you both deserved a little well done treat for making it through your first week. 

Benjamin Anthony Parker had been an early Christmas present to the both of you, coming a week earlier than planned. On the 23rd of December at 3:29am a crying bundle of blue blankets was placed in your arms, blinking his eyes open for the very first time to look up at you and Peter. 

Ben’s arrival made Christmas even more hectic than it might have been. More relatives and friends wanting to come over to see the baby and give him Christmas gifts and cuddles. You luckily escaped the mandatory visit to other people’s houses for dinner and parties but you couldn’t escape the joys of newfound parenthood which included lack of sleep and time to yourself. 

Starbucks called your name as you drove past, knowing Peter would go crazy for a coffee and pastry right now. You parked up and yawned as you stepped out of your car, not even really being asked to care if you looked like a mess or not which you were sure you did. 

The door chimed as you entered, the welcoming smell of coffee and frappuccinos filling your senses as you waited in line. You noticed a familiar face working at the counter and smiled as she greeted you. 

“Well if it isn’t Mrs Parker.” 

You laughed and blushed, still not used to being called that even after a year of marriage. 

“Hey MJ. Can I have my usual and a coffee for Pete please?” You smiled, trying to fight back another yawn and grabbing a selection of pastries. MJ nodded and rung up your order. “Still working the holiday job then?” 

“Yeah but it’s only for another few weeks and then it’s back to fighting the system.” MJ smirked, taking a moment to talk to you as the queue died down. You admired MJ becoming a big shot lawyer fighting for the little guy and taking down big companies, it was hard work but if anyone could do it it was Michelle Jones. Whenever MJ was back home she took little jobs to help her family and to help pay the extensive student loans that kept piling up. 

“So any big plans for the night?” 

You looked up and blinked at her, thinking hard about what she could mean. “Unless you mean changing diapers and singing nursery rhymes for the hundredth time then no.” 

MJ smiled and handed you your drinks, squinting her eyes at you. 

“You do know what day it is right?” 

“Of course I do.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, laughing slightly. “I-it’s Thursday?” 

“Oh Y/n you really are sleep deprived. It’s Saturday and it’s New Year’s Eve.” MJ supplied, sneaking you an extra cookie before going to help another customer. 

You stared at her in disbelief. If it was New Years Eve you would have realized it sooner. Peter always got excited at New Years, saying it was the hope of a new year crammed into one night. 

“I’m going to Ned’s party if you want to come but you don’t have to.” MJ snapped you out of your trance, smiling at you as she ate her own cookie. 

“Why weren’t we invited?!” You spoke up, feeling offended since you and Peter were best friends with Ned and MJ. 

MJ bit her lip and tried not to let out a laugh, leaning on the counter. “You were. You mumbled something sleepily on the phone and then passed it to Peter who did the same thing so we figured you were too tired.” 

You hated to admit it but she was right. You couldn’t even remember taking their call or anything about a party invite. You said you would see how you felt tonight before taking your drinks and leaving with a final goodbye to MJ. 

By the time you got home Peter was already awake and giving Ben his morning feed from his bottle. You smiled and kissed his head, placing the coffee cup and pastry in front of him. 

“Thank you baby!” Peter whispered excitedly, stealing a kiss before going back to watching Ben. You ruffled Peter’s hair, noticing how tired he looked and yet how in awe he was of his son. 

You stole Ben after his bottle for a morning cuddle and held him close, giggling quietly as Peter happily ate his breakfast. He must have caught on to the expression on your face quickly because he was pausing the bite of his pastry to come and hold you. 

“Everything okay?” 

You bit your lip and nodded unsurely, leaning into Peter whilst still holding Ben close. “Yeah, it’s just- I didn’t even know it was New Year’s Eve.”

“It is?!” Peter looked at you with wide eyes, in as much shock as you were about what day it was. 

You nodded and sighed, stroking Ben’s face and smiling as he scrunched his little nose up like his Dad does. 

“Ned is having this party tonight,” You caught sight of Peter’s annoyed expression and addressed his question before he could ask it. “We were invited, we were just too tired to notice.”  

Peter tried to think back and had a brief moment of remembrance. “Shi- I mean sugar!” He quickly corrected himself and put a hand over his mouth. Peter had made up nonsense words and random ones to cover up his swears including map, witch, bam and your personal favorite fudgearoonies. Even without a child in the house it wasn’t unusual for Peter to say things like that instead of swearing. 

You giggled and gave Ben back to Peter, smiling wide as he made funny faces at him. They walked to the nursery. You went to grab your own breakfast before quickly turning back as Peter gasped and called for you. 

“What?! Is Ben okay?” Your parent senses, much like Peter’s own spidey senses went into hyperdrive as you rushed into the nursery, breathing a sigh of relief as you saw Peter was smiling and holding Ben in his arms. 

“He smiled! He smiled at me!” Peter looked at you with watery eyes, bringing Ben over to you. “And not like a gassy smile, a proper smile!” 

You remembered when Peter had been excited last time Ben ‘smiled’ only for the real reason to be discovered moments later through smell. 

You watched as Peter did his funny faces, trying to get his son to smile at him once again for you to see it. It was a perfect moment to see especially as Ben made a smile at his Dad and you could see it reach his little eyes just like Peter’s smile did when he was really happy. 

“Oh my god!” You smiled wide too and kissed Ben’s head, joining in with making funny faces so you could see it again and maybe even grab a picture of it this time. A tear fell down Peter’s cheek from pure happiness as he watched his son smile for the first time and the second and the third. 

Eventually Ben grew tired of people pulling faces at him and became fussy, wanting nothing more than to nap. You and Peter set him back down in his crib and smiled, holding each other close as you watched him fall back to sleep. Something you wished you could do at that moment. 

And Peter almost tempted you to do exactly that, getting as far as pulling you into the bedroom before the doorbell rang. You both sighed as the doorbell woke up Ben. 

Peter went to comfort Ben whilst you got the door, opening it to see May on the other side. You smiled and warned her against the doorbell to which she apologized. You could hardly stay mad at her when she was carrying what smelt like her homemade roast chicken. 

“I know parenting isn’t easy but if anyone I know can do it, it’s you two.” May comforted you, giving you a hug and expressing her worry for how tired you seemed. You insisted you were fine but she saw right through you. 

“It’s normal to be tired, babies are hard work.” May laughed and started telling stories of little baby Peter and how he was a fussy baby from the very beginning. You laughed and finally felt yourself relax for a moment as Peter walked in carrying a calmer Ben. 

“There’s my grand nephew!” May made grabby hands towards Ben for a cuddle and Peter happily handed the small baby to her. “And my grown up nephew.” May smiled and pulled Peter in for a hug as well, reiterating what she had already said to you. 

May even offered to take Ben out for a little bit of fresh air to which you gratefully accepted. Peter and you even managed to get 30 whole minutes of uninterrupted sleep, cuddled in each other's arms. 

By the time the night fell when everyone was getting ready to go out or get drunk, you and Peter were singing your son to sleep. You blamed Peter for making Ben’s favourite song a Ramones song but the way Peter sang it was enough to make up for that fact. He would never admit it but Peter’s voice was beautiful, gentle and soft. You hadn’t heard it that much until Ben was born and it was just one of the many things you were thankful that Ben had brought you. 

May’s roast chicken was all gone by the time the clock reached eleven. Ben had already woken up 3 times in the past 2 hours and you had even called May to check that nothing was wrong with him. Peter spent half of the time sitting in the small armchair next to the crib, watching Ben and humming softly to himself. You joined him and sat on his lap, cuddling into your husband’s chest. 

A loud commotion sounded from outside of your apartment, people cheering and shouting “Happy New Year!” as they celebrated. You stirred from your sleep, not even remembering having drifted off as you calmed Ben down quickly and looked out of the window. 

Ben was entranced by the stars outside and the fireworks that were going off in the sky. Colours of all kinds lighting up the dark night sky and the loud bangs, even though distant were enough to wake Peter up. 

“Hey.” He mumbled sleepily, wrapping his arms around you and kissing Ben’s head. Peter rested his head on your shoulder and looked out at the view before noticing the time. “Happy new year princess.” 

You looked at him in surprise before noticing the clock, it read 12:03. “Happy new year Petey.” 

You smiled softly and kissed Peter’s lips, a tradition you had kept up since high school. You had always been each other's New Year's kiss even when you were both too oblivious to realise how you felt about each other. 

Peter kissed you back sweetly, the taste of his lips pulling you back in for more until a tiny hand reached up to your face causing both of you to giggle. “And happy new year to you, too little guy.” 

“He already doesn’t like us kissing.” Peter joked, pecking your lips once more before blowing a small raspberry on Ben’s cheek. You giggled and did it to the other side of his face, making Ben smile once more. 

You didn’t care what the new year brought you as long as you kept hold of what was right here in your arms. That was all that mattered.

Taglist: @marvel-lock @farfrombarnes @parkerpeter24

Tagging moots: @sunflowerspidey @glowunderthemoon @the-girl-in-the-chair @seolaseoul @spideyspeaches

[artisticbunny]

Hi. Look, I know it’s been some time, and I’d just like to drop you a big, fat apology.

Remember DCASS2022? It happened a couple months ago now, and when I was accepted into it, I had my heart set on gifting you something so great your heart would freeze with the written description of the bitter cold nipping at you. But, as it turns out, you never got to experience that, and I never got to share the experience with you, because there was no giving, yet there was a gift.

I wrote it briskly, bashfully, full of giddiness and other emotions that made me want to explode into a million tiny versions of myself. However, all those feeling were wasted when I got my devices taken away, for rather graceless reasons.

Yet, there was hope, minuscule, but still a chance nonetheless. I’d placed your special something in my queue, but a malfunction caused it to never actually post, and so I consulted a close friend, who turned out to be much too busy to lend a hand.

And so, meekly, humbly, and apologetically now, with my devices in hand, I want to wish you a belated Christmas, and share with you the gift you very much so deserve.

And here @artisticbunny is my gift to you for DCASS2022!

(p.s tumblr butchered my formatting, and I’m leaving it as is so that I don’t mess it up more. This is how I originally wrote it, fresh in quality and unique in design I suppose. Please enjoy, I’ve been awaiting this for a long time!) :D

Woohoo! Merry Christmas to the amazing @ArtisticBunny!!! My gift to you for DCASS2022! Um but first I’d like to apologize for the lateness! No one was supposed to go giftless and I’m afraid you almost did!! (I swear I wasn’t just being stupid rather than writing this, it’s just I couldn’t use my device and had to rely on other means of posting it.) Also just want to say sorry for the tumblr formatting… I wanted to put this on ao3, but I couldn’t because this project was actually kinda rushed. Hopefully it still comes out unscathed though, and you’re still able to read it! But anyways, to the point! I made a written piece since my art needs some work, and I’ll just go ahead and apologize now for any typos or misplaced perceptions. I don’t celebrate Christmas, so I guess it might be more of a snowday thing than gifts under a tree with cookies and lights and everything. Went for a more so domestic DCA kind of writing, (sorry if that’s not your cup of tea…) because I want to try my hand at making living with a huge metal robot seem homey! (Beforehand I’d like to throw in a warning or two so umm CW: Nakedness/Nudity (Bathtime), and maybe just some banter, along with the typical nonsexual intimacy. (Rather smooth though, wanted to make this appropriate for most ages) Happy Reading! (Word Count: 8,500~) You’re awakened by the soft lights pouring in through the window, and secondarily, an exquisite smell coming out of the kitchen. With a small groan, you stretch and wipe the sleepy dust from your eyes. The heater near your bed is on, perfect for the cold weather that plagues your windows outside. Speaking of windows, you crane your neck to peek out of the one above the heater and catch sight of the ‘cold weather’ that gently falls against it. Snow. You know you’re not exactly a kid or anything, but you’re not an old killjoy either, so you immediately kick your legs over the side of your bed and hop to the ground, widening the gap in the blinds to look out the window. Sure enough, the white matter that is little crystals of H2o is wafting about, similarly to the smell of whatever is going throughout your home right now. You conclude to go check in the kitchen for the pleasing scent, and then maybe inspect the news channel for more information about the exciting look of the weather.

Still fighting the sleep from your system, you straighten up with a small wobble, the warmth of your blanket departing from you as you switch off the heater and proceed to make your bed. It’s somewhat of a last second thought, but when you’re satisfied with the way the covers lay across the bed, there’s no more need for inspection. You enter the hallway, make a left and enter the living room, which shares a space with the kitchen, where you see the tall sunny animatronic you’ve grown to love, cooking. You don’t announce your presence when you come in, but there’s no need. You’re sure his robo-servos and whatnot will probably alert him for you, as they do nearly every other time. “Hellooo Sunnybun! Good to see you up early!” Sun hoots, knocking whatever grogginess still lingering within you right out. He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, but you can sense the mirth radiating from him as you make your way over, peeking over his arm to see what he’s making. “Hello to you too, Sun. Do you mind if I ask what you’re making?” You ask, swallowing any excess saliva as it tries to escape your mouth. Sun hums, giving you a gentle nudge away from the hot stove for what you’ll assume is your own safety. “Breakfast.” Sun supplies, and you cut your eyes at the ever-grinning metal man. “Seriously? Can’t I at least get a hint?” You query, a small pout on your lips that Sun simply brushes off with a boop of your nose and a shake of his head. “Nope!” Well, with no room for protest you take yourself upfront. “I’ll be in the living room until further notice.” You call, catching a naturally energetic ‘ok’ from your animatronic buddy. You crash onto the couch and mindlessly grope the cushions for the television remote. It’s probably in between the cushions somewhere, unless the more nightly version of your favorite animatronic hid it elsewhere.

Luckily, you find it. You hold it up with triumph as a peek over your shoulder lets you know that Sun is almost finished with your mystery breakfast. With a content hum you flick on the television, and then turn on the news. Unfortunately, you tune in to one of the notorious commercial breaks, so you slump back onto the couch and sigh. “Breakfast is served!” Sun’s voice makes you jump ever so slightly, a plate being skillfully slipped into your lap as you regain your composure. “Oh, thanks Sun!” You beam, glancing down to the delicacy in your lap. Sun made pancakes, dressed in assorted fruits and syrup. You wonder how you didn’t make the connection based off the brief glance you got earlier, but you brush the subject aside. Sun sits on the couch beside you, his long legs carefully crossed so as not to disturb you as he eyes the screen. “The news channel! You must’ve seen the lovely snow outside!” Sun observes, scooting a mite closer in a fashion you’ve learned to recognize as his energetic hands-on nature. You nod in agreement, shoveling a forkful of pancakes into your mouth as your eyes are trained on the television screen. The food is delicious, but you’d expect nothing less than that from the renowned Daycare Attendant. He was programmed with some kind of cooking features, you assume, so he was likely good at it. The guy on the news claims that there’s going to be an expected five to seven inches of snow by tonight, which isn’t all that concerning, considering you’ll be inside by then. You ponder maybe going out for a frolic or just some pure silliness outside in the snow. It seems like the weather isn’t too harsh, and you’re sure you have a spare coat in your closet and maybe some snowpants too. “Hey Sun,” You start, turning down the volume of the television so that you won’t have to speak over it. “Wanna go outside and play in the snow?” “We were wondering when you’d ask! I believe the idea is delightful!” Sun chirps, optics briefly flicking to your half-eaten breakfast before he hops off the couch.

“We’ll prepare the necessary equipment, while you finish your breakfast!” “Yes Sir.” You muse, turning back up the volume on the television as you munch more of your pancake breakfast. It’s not long until Sun is back, nor is it until you finish your food. He comes bearing an armful of clothing, along with what looks like a booklet. He sets the snow supplies next to you on the couch and slips your dinnerware from your grasp. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen.” Sun informs you, skipping into said room and leaving you on the couch. Welp it’s official, looks like you’re going outside. You flick off the television and snatch up the booklet from the neat pile of clothes beside you. It looks like a guide to putting on snow gear. You snort, you were sure you could manage putting on some silly looking clothes. Spitefully, you drop the book and immediately reach for the snow coat. You were sure the coat went over the clothes you’re already wearing, so you put it on like that. You slip on the pants as well, and then the socks and boots. You save the gloves for last, and honestly, feel quite warm in your new attire. “Sun, I think I’m ready to go now.” You say, wanting to leave the heat of your home in favor of the subzero temperatures of the outside world. Sun, who was previously cleaning the dishes, turns to you, that permanent smile on his face widening at the sight of you. “My my, SunBun, you look a little hot.” Sun jests, giving a small chuckle as you brush off his comment. “Did you even read the manual?” He asks, tone light, almost that of a tease. Sun dries his hands while you hurriedly examine yourself. You don’t look like a million bucks dressed like this, you can think of few people who would, but you do see some things you could’ve been a teensy bit more careful about.

You shake your head, defeated. That stupid book might’ve been worth reading for someone who’d never put on snow gear before, but you were sure you had this covered. “Let me give you a hand there.” Sun makes his way over, snickering as his long metallic digits get to work on your messy form. He legitimately takes a knee, strappings you didn’t even know were there being fastened as he hooks up little thingsandpressestogethervelcros youwerecompletelyunawareof. You have to raise your arms or shift your stance a little bit here and there, but you manage as you kind of feel like a kid getting fixed up by an adult. “All done!” Sun exclaims, springing back up to full height as you take a glance at your newly fashioned self. “Thanks Sun, I guess I owe you one.” You sing-song playfully, but Sun shakes his head vigorously. “Nonsense! Spending any waking moment by your side is payment enough!” Sun supplies, flattering you as it was intended. “Wow, I’m touched.” You giggle, making your way to the door and grabbing your keys from your pocket. “Do you need anything to go outside…?” You ask, directed towards Sun as you eye him, dressed in a hoodie that’s too small and sweatpants that barely cover his silicone shins. “I mean I don’t want your heaters or whatever to be like, overworked I’m saying…” You add, just for clarity. “Darling, you needn’t worry about us! We are capable of handling ourselves.” Sun assures you, kindly taking your keys and unlocking the door for you. You shrug as you go to open the door, but a large yellow hand stops your own, and you look to see Sun anxiously smiling down at you. Before you can question it, something is dropped onto your head. It’s soft and warm, somewhat fuzzy. “You might want to consider wearing this before you go outside.” Sun suggests, and you fix the thing on your head, recognizing it as a hat. “Thanks Sun.” You say, mirth in your tone from his great concern for you.

You push open the door. Like actually push the thing. There’s snow on your porch, accumulating in front of the small house you’re renting, and even on your driveway. “Wowzers,” You breath, the cold air already abusing your nose and cheeks with its wrath. “That’s a lot of snow.” “Indeed.” Sun agrees, and you gingerly step away from the warmth and safety of your humble home. You aren’t really in the mood to do something overly tedious or laborious, so you make a mental note to clear the driveway of snow later. It’s not like you’ll be driving anyways. “Sun, why don’t we go to the park?” You propose, looking at the small space that is your front yard, and deciding that you’ll need something a little bigger. “Great idea!” Sun cheers, gently taking your hand and taking you in the direction of the park, which is relatively close in your opinion. Not a lot of people are out and about in the low temperatures, you pass a couple on their way to God knows where, a mother and her child walking from a little tea shop on the corner, and an old man traversing the streets on his own. It’s only a short walk, you’re sure you would’ve seen more if you were out longer, but you aren’t. “We have arrived!” Sun shouts, and it echoes across the field. There’s little to no people out here, a mother is watching her son play on a small snow-covered playscape, and then a few older kids are hanging about, some walking the trail and a few more just loitering around talking. You and Sun stand on an open field, a decent size with snow coating every inch. You suppose it’s time to have some fun. “Alright Sun! Why don’t we do something cool?” You suggest, tapping your chin in thought before looking to the animatronic for any kind of inspiration, and he gives a whirl of his faceplate. “We could make an igloo! Maybe sculptures! Have a snowball fight!” Sun fills the air with amazing ideas, bouncing from foot to foot in a contained anticipation.

“Sounds lovely, why don’t we try them all?” You agree, grinning as you walk around in the snow, finding a good patch before you slip your hand from Sun’s. “I don’t really know how to build an igloo, but I’m willing to try.” You quickly inform Sun, looking at the already crouched animatronic. Sun swivels his head to look at you, his grin softening as his upturned eyes fill with sincerity. “I’d be happy to teach you, SunBun.” You don’t know why the spectacle strikes you like it does, but your already rosy cheeks get a tad rosier, and you can’t help but drop your gaze from Sun’s eyes. “Yeah yeah, be my guest metal man.” You mutter, standing beside the huge robot to see what he’s doing. “The snow here is just firm enough!” Sun states, and you see him give it a sharp few prods with his silicone fingers. Come to think of it, the snow does feel a little more resistant than the snow in your driveway or porch. Maybe it’s just colder in the park, or perhaps it’s just the way the land is here. “First let’s measure the size of the igloo!” Sun instructs, drawing a large ring in the snow, piquing your interest. When you’re not exactly immediate with your response, Sun grabs your hand and takes you a few feet away. “Do as I do SunBun! This is an instructional project!” Sun insists, carefully pulling you down into a crouch and moving your hand gingerly through the snow. “Sorry… I wasn’t really expecting that I’d have to make one too.” You explain, letting Sun guide your arm as you both move smoothly through the snow. “You’re perfectly peachy! Just make sure that you the steps closely.” Sun assures you, letting go of your hand once you realize the circle is done being made. “Secondly, we shall deepen this simple ring!” Sun declares, and you find yourselves attracting some attention from the surrounding visitors of the park.

The little boy who was previously playing energetically under his mother’s watchful eye is now staring intently at the chattering Daycare Attendant. A group of maybe four or five children probably ages nine to fourteen are also snickering hysterically as they point at you and whisper to one another. You don’t really mind the young boy’s entranced state of respectfully gazing at you and your friend. The older kids, however, are rather concerning. There’s no adult in sight watching them, just some random children that you doubt are some homeless orphans. They're clearly geared up in winter appropriate clothes. Sun notices you haven’t acknowledged his next instruction yet and follows your gaze with a swivel of his head. Upon sight of the children, nothing in his faceplate physically changes, but when you look hard enough you can see the slight disappointment he holds for their unrighteous actions, “Perhaps we should address those poor little lost lambs.” Sun says, tone a bit flatter than the usual boisterousness you’re used to. You nod, worry still lingering lightly on the edge of your mind as Sun starts towards the gaggle of giggling youths. Being close behind, the first thing you notice is how they instantly stop with rude comments and unholy actions upon the thought of confrontation. One of them, likely the eldest, whispers something to the smallest one, shocking her. You don’t really do much of the ridiculing. Sun marches up with a few kind words and questions before exploiting the lies he was given with a solid reprimand. You think it’s rather amazing how he does it all so tenderly, as not to scare or even belittle the children, who are probably just bored of being cooped up inside with no excuse to leave excluding educational reason. Nonetheless, some of the kids still do run off without as little as a faked apology, staying far away from you and your animatronic buddy. However, the humbler of them do stand to give a small ‘sorry’ and an innocent duck of the head, and one of them even asks to partake in the igloo building. “Well of course!” Sun chirped, arms opening wide for a hug as you recognize the one who offered to help with the building as the smallest child.

Names are exchanged along with various gestures and a snippet of background info. You find that the little girl’s name is Ruby, and she was simply running around in her yard before coming to the park in search of her friends. Then she explained further that she was unfortunately dragged into the wrong crowd by the notorious peer pressure. It’s a sad story you guess, but Sun emphasizes the fact that anyone steered wrong has a chance to get back on the right path, so Ruby shouldn’t waste hers. After that, you go back over the first couple steps of igloo building so that Ruby is caught up. You do feel a tad shamed that a whole tangent happened because you got distracted looking at a group of kids rather than paying attention to Sun, but you brush it off, nothing bad happened so it’s ok. “Next, we could make bricks of snow to build our igloos with, but we believe it may be easier to pack the snow onto itself in layers for our situation.” Sun states, but it’s quieter, as though he’s speaking to himself rather than you and Ruby. There’s a small second in which all you hear is the wind whipping at the trees and swirling briskly around your ears. Sun is completely still while Ruby complains about her circle being lopsided. “New plan!” Sun declares suddenly, jabbing the air intently with a metal digit. “I anticipate there’s not enough firm snow for us to all dedicate to igloo building!” Ruby’s shoulders sag a little as you look at your snow ring. Not too unlikely you suppose, the snow probably experienced some conditions that the other snow didn’t, or maybe it’s literally just softer…? “Oh well, togetherness effort! Everyone over here!” Sun commands, spreading his arms theatrically as you make your way over. When you arrive, a new face has caught Sun’s attention, smiling and giggling as well. You notice it’s the child of the now flustered mother who was previously only watching you and Sun frolic about in the snow. “So sorry about this!” The mother chatters, carefully scooping up her child and moving a fair distance away from you and your metal friend before continuing.

“My son just adores robots, guess your umm… friend here caught his eye.” She directs her speech to you, audibly mincing her words so as not to offend anyone. “You’re fine ma’am,” You assure her, offering an easy smile to help calm her nerves. “In fact, the more the merrier! I’m sure my friend might like your son too.” There’s another moment or so of hesitance while the son whines defiantly in his guardian’s arms. She simply sighs, whispering something motherly before giving her child a kiss on the cheek and setting him down. Afterwards, you exchange basic formalities and greetings and learn the child’s name is Georgie. A young six- year-old boy with an interest in robots, cool. “Now we’re learning to pack the snow, see?” Sun is back to the teaching, layering the snow onto itself to make basic little layers. It’s easy to do for the most part, and you’re sure to assist the kids if necessary. The process goes by rather smoothly. It’s a team effort of taking up the surrounding snow and packing it into a rounded shape that is the igloo’s base and walls. “You’re all doing a faz—pardon me, fantastic job!” Sun encourages, circling the half-built structure with thoughtful eyes. He does come and tinker with the shape of it a little, but you guess igloos are supposed to be round and not blocky. “I think it’s time for a break.” Ruby huffs, taking a few steps away from your snowy build and blowing hot air into her palms. Georgie seems to agree with the thought, giving a vigorous nod as he wipes a trail of snot from his reddened face. Well, your hands are a bit chilly from all the snow shoveling, and your wrists are kind of sore from the repetition of the energy demanding motions. Maybe a break is necessary, there are tons of benches to choose from if you want to take a seat. “Alright, let’s all take a break.” You announce, shooting Sun an apologetic smile. You’re very sure that somewhere behind the silicone smile of his, permanently forced to remain in hiding, is the thought that human needs were even a smidge inconvenient. Not like you’d blame him thought, sometimes running out of energy or the need to digest nutrients over long periods of time can be extremely tedious, even for those who go through it every day.

Sooner or later, you’re on a bench. Sun is to your left, with the children to your right. You take out your phone and check the time. It’s around half past two, so you sure have been here a while… But then again, you can’t recall when you woke up, so it could’ve only been an hour or so. “I’m hungry.” Ruby mutters, shoving her hands into her pockets in search of what you’re assuming is food. “Hungry.” Georgie repeats, and then hops off the bench, running in the direction of his mother. You don’t bother going after him, you just put away your phone and watch. Predictably, he’s over by his mom, telling her something you think. You don’t want to eavesdrop or anything, so you look to Sun, who’s contently watching cars pass. “Hey Sunny, what else are we going to have to do to make our igloo?” You ask, just to maybe give him a means of entertainment. “Well, we’re going to have to focus on a more dome-like shape for it. Unless of course you prefer a square.” Sun answers, though his voice is a little softer in the bustling winds, which you realize are only getting stronger. You went to say something else, but then Georgie comes tumbling back with handfuls of snacks. Some of them look crushed and some don’t, but you guess they’re not really for you judging off how Georgie immediately drops them into Ruby’s lap and retakes his spot next to her. “Oh thanks! But you can have some back, I’m not that hungry.” Ruby coos, taking on some kind of maturity into her voice as if the wrong tone could literally break the little boy on the bench next to her. It’s maybe another two or three minutes that Sun is humming, and Ruby is eating, because then you’re sure that this break is over. “Ok guys, let’s get back to it.” You say with a small yawn, pushing up off the bench and trudging over to the still unfinished igloo. It’ll be finished soon enough though, you just have to round it out, and add a roof. That should be easy, you’re all just going to have to make a team effort not to mess things up or ruin the snow. All is going well; you and the kids are working with Sun in hopes of a major revamp of the structure’s shape. The tiny tinker he tried earlier didn’t really do much, so here you all are correcting it.

It takes maybe twenty minutes. Running your chilled hands along a wall trying to make it circular is easy when you first start off. But the latter half of it, doing the same thing for an extended period of time, you’re sure it gets to Ruby and Georgie before it does you. In the end, regardless of the time it took, you’re proud of the results. A wide, round, snow-built structure that you took part in making is now before you, and it didn’t even require an excess amount of time or energy. It doesn’t yet have a roof, but you think that it’s good enough without. Besides, it’ll let some sunlight into the thing, so that it’s not all dark inside. “A job well done.” You declare, splitting the awkward silence that followed the making of your creation. You guess everyone’s just ogling at it instead of talking though, so perhaps it would’ve been better not to speak. “Exactly! A spectacular spectacle indeed!” Sun adds, his faceplate brightening up as the kids become animated by the supportive speeches given. “Thanks Sunny!” Ruby chirps, offering thanks to you and Georgie as well. She looks rather pleased with the efforts, Georgie too. “We’ve time for one more activity!” Sun informs the three of you. It’s getting a little colder this time of day, and the actual Sun will be setting in a few hours. “How about a snowball fight!” Ruby suggests, bouncing intently from foot to foot. “Snowballs.” Georgie agrees, inching over to Sun in a manner that you’ve seen kids in the Daycare practice as well. “Sure, let’s have a snowball fight!” You agree, looking to Sun with an affirmative nod. “But first let’s split into teams and gather some ammo.” “Sunny.” Georgie says immediately, as if waiting for the opportunity to arise. He takes the animatronic by the hand, and Sun bursts with theatrical joy at being chosen. “I guess I’m with you.” Ruby hums, sliding over and slipping her gloved hand into yours. You give her a reassuring squeeze, no way you’re losing this fight. “Ok! With that sorted, let's get our snow!” Sun shouts, sun rays spinning ecstatically as he visibly becomes a smidge more competitive. “Remember, the best way to make snowballs is to use firm snow!”

With that, Sun bounds away to another part of the park, Georgie close in tow. “How do we find ours?” Ruby asks innocently, glancing from left to right in confusion. “Simple,” You reply, feeling a tad cheeky as you recall some old tricks you picked up while working at the Pizzaplex. “You just follow in step with the genius.” Without warning, you make a start after Sun and Georgie, easily following the obvious footprints left behind in the crunchy snow. It really is a clever tactic to use, especially around Sun. You’ve noticed that he’s often likely to go to the best source of something for himself, and it only amplifies when around others. On the flip side, it’s not a card you try and play too much. You fear he might catch on sooner or later, he’s a hyperaware, ever attention paying robot after all, so you must be subtle when you use it to your advantage. “Wowie! That’s actually kinda neat! ….like cheating off the smart kid in class…” Ruby adds the last part in a small mutter, making you snort. “I’m sure you don’t cheat off the smart kid, otherwise you’d have thought of this already.” You jest, watching Ruby’s face turn the color of the gem her name implies. You catch up to Sun, who’s crouched low, teaching Georgie how to make snowballs and clearly not expecting followers. “Hi, Sun!” You chirp, tone full of teases as you tap a few sun rays on your way by. Sun instantly turns his attention to you, his sun rays giving a breezy little spin before stopping, retracting sourly as white optics narrow at you. “Cheater.” He huffs, voice low and accusatory, but you can tell that it’s obviously playful. “You never said one team couldn’t follow the other.” You shrug harmlessly, then drop to your knees in front of him, but you’re careful to stay out of his reach. “That’s because we expected a basic display of self-respect… but clearly, we overestimated you.” Sun says, glaring at you in a way that isn’t really a glare. He’s good at raising tension like this, and you suppose that’s his theatre and child entertainment features coming into play. But it’s exciting in your opinion, so why not play along?

“Oh well, your loss. Self-respecting or not I’m still going to win this snowball fight.” You boast, scooping up some snow and forming it into a small ball. “Right Ruby?” Though missing a beat, the little girl still nods, and you smirk knowing you’ve just poked the bear that is his theatrical ego. “Preposterous!” Sun exclaims, leaning away from you in a comical expression of surprise. “You’re telling fibs! No way you’ll beat me and the amazing Georgie!” “Challenge accepted!” You announce, quickly getting to work making decently sized snowballs to later chuck at your opposition. This was going to be very competitive, and you knew it. However, it wouldn’t be any fun if none of the snowballs hurled were hurled with no real purpose. “A challenge you will not succeed!” Sun counters dramatically, whispering something encouraging to his comrade after the fact. The four of you then collectively gather your ammunition, before a decision is made and you decide there should be some ground rules set down to ensure the overall fairness of the competition. You sincerely don’t want to fall victim to any tricks or loopholes pulled on you, so rules are the way to go. “First off, each team has a designated space they can throw from.” You start, looking out across the open field that is now your court. “We’ll be separated by these lines marking said space, and anyone who crosses the lines without permission is out.” Deftly, you set aside your gathered snowballs and lean over to drag your hand through the snow, creating a border between the two sides. You’re sure to make it around six feet long and a few inches deep, just so that it’s visible to anyone coming too close. “Secondly, if you’re hit with a snowball three times, you’re out.” You instruct, taking a stance beside Ruby on your respective side of the border, standing in front of Sun. “And lastly, remember, it’s not about who wins or loses, it’s about the experience you were able to have.” You finish, smiling warmly knowing everything you just said would likely be thrown out the window if you somehow lost to Sun.

“Don’t we get like, those barrier things that they use in movies during the gun scenes?” Ruby asks, tossing a snowball up and down in her hand rather threateningly. “If you mean cars, probably not. Besides, it’d be no fun just hiding behind anything, so let’s just do our best to dodge instead.” You reply, offering a reassuring wink as you take your collected ammo and pile it up away from the line separating you from your temporary enemies. “Oh, and I almost forgot. If you run out of snowballs, that’s on you, so try not to waste all your weaponry.” You say, just as a reminder to clear any confusion. “Without further ado, everybody to their positions! The match starts in three!” You declare, standing defensively near your lump of snowballs. Ruby stands to your left, already armed and ready by the time you announce the timer dropping to two. Sun and Georgie look rather prepared as well, with the latter situated safely behind the former. “One!” You shout, snatching up a fistful of snow yourself, tension thick in the air as your narrowly spot Georgie’s mom clasping her hands in anticipation. “GO!” In that moment, everything happens opposite to how you thought it would’ve been. No snow whizzes past your face or barely misses any part of your body, and in fact no one dares to move. Oh, waiting for the other to make a move, you suppose. Well, standing here won’t really get anyone anywhere, so you decide you’ll be the first to kick off the flurry of snow being hurled across a field. You reel back quickly, take a mostly unplanned aim for the bright yellow animatronic that’s currently guarding a small child, and throw with a might that’s supposed to encourage that of an actual snowball fight. Surprisingly enough, you don’t miss. In fact, you hit Sun right in the chassis, snow splattering across his hoodie as he takes a step back, making an offended grunting noise. However, your triumph is short-lived as you fail to avoid a snowball flying at you from the tiny form behind Sun that spots your stomach with snow. Oh wow, Georgie is notably accurate with his throws, a little sharpshooter that you’re sure his mother is proud of.

“Let’s try to out Georgie first!” Ruby whisper-shouts to you, making a throw for the little guy, only for him to outmaneuver her attempt, ducking back behind Sun. You dodge a well-aimed assault from Georgie and deliver your own sharpshot at Sun, who legitimately twirls out of the way, yet his partner is too slow to follow and unfortunately takes the hit. Georgie makes a dissatisfied whiny noise, taking a snowball from Sun and throwing it at Ruby, who must’ve not expected the ball of snow that crashes against her side, an audible growl coming from her. “You’ll regret that!” Ruby exclaims, spite evident in her intentions as she swiftly runs to the border, snowball in hand, and lobs it full force at Sun, who has the snow shatter against his long, spindly metallic legs. “Atrocious!” Sun yelps, sun rays shrinking as he grabs his faceplate in astonishment. “I’ve only one hitpoint remaining!” The same atrocity is immediately done unto Ruby, as Sun spins in a circle, a snowball encountering the tough spot that is Ruby’s shoulder, and bursting into a thousand little snowflakes. “Oh… oh no.” Ruby mutters, backing away from the border and coming back beside you, just as another snowball is flung fiercely at her. It’s briefly that you decide you have two choices. You could either pull the ultimate cliché and take the shot for your single hitpointed partner, or let Ruby be outed here and now. Of course, being the kind and tender-hearted person you are, you heroically dive in the way of the projectile, letting it splinter out and penetrate the microscopic holes in your snow coat. Rather quickly, you become a part of those who have been afflicted by the atrocious reality of being at one hitpoint, but that doesn’t make you falter. Once you’re able, you hop back up to your feet, flashing Ruby a smile that is returned, though the snowballs don’t stop flying at you just because you’re sharing a somewhat sentimental moment with a possible new buddy. Your heart skips a beat when one of the devious little things nearly meets your trunk, but a quick sidestep is enough to evade it. Ruby almost gets hit as well, but she dodges and retaliates with a counterattack that puts Georgie in the stage of atrocity as well.

A glance towards your ammunition pile alerts you to the fact that you only have three snowballs left, but when you turn back to Ruby to inform her too, she’s experiencing a snowball exploding just below the neck of her snow coat. Oops, you guess that’s one shot you couldn’t save her from. “Crap!! I guess I’m out now.” Ruby sighs, a miserable noise coming from her as she sits on a nearby bench, watching from about ten feet away. Immediately, the playing field feels a lot bigger, and the air thins just a little. Suddenly, the weight of having a teammate to worry about is lifted from you, but the burden of having to dodge all the threats flying across the field is still fresh in your mind. So, you decide to take things into your own hands, quite literally. For a better aim, you march up closer to the separating line between the teams, standing maybe a yard away. You’ll have to dodge quicker while up front, but you benefit from having your targets within close range. You throw a snowball at Sun, but he swiftly ducks and sends you a counter that misses by a half inch. You’re really in the hotseat now, two opponents, two snowballs. You legitimately can’t afford to lose. It’s a calculated throw at Sun when you consider it could be the one that ensures your win-- so your heart sinks when he briskly cartwheels from the spot. But, luck smiles smugly in your favor when the snowball nails Georgie right in the chest, and he stumbles backwards in disbelief. “Out.” He utters humorlessly, sauntering over to the bench Ruby has taken refuge on and simply staring at the match that is to unfold. You guess your luck is running thin around now, because Sun too holds a snowball with intent. His gaze is fixated on you, the permanent grin on his face competitive and self-assured— like you’d let him win. “You may as well surrender while you still can, or otherwise face a humiliating defeat!” Sun bellows near condescendingly, striding up to the line which separates your two teams, and reeling back in a menacing fashion. “Never!”

In that moment you lean back and gather your momentum in order to chuck the ball full force at the animatronic practically dancing in front of you. Sun does the same, and it’s when he plants his foot that you notice he’s overstepped the line. You’re in the process of bringing your arm forward when you see the detail, and you’re on the brink of pointing it out when-- Plap. It’s not even a throw, just a simple drop of snow, onto your face. You don’t even realize it at first, but it stops you. You drop your snowball, a low growl rising in you as you furiously wipe the snow from your face, glaring heatedly at the robot in front of you, that can barely contain his giggles. “Snow-Face, you’re out.” Sun chuckles, covering his grin in a half-hearted attempt to silence his own snickering. “You are too, cheater.” You grumble, blowing snow from your nose and shaking it from your hairline. “This is truly atrocious.” Sun gives you a pat on the back, fully crossing the boundary and coming over to your side of the makeshift court, before leading you back to the bench, taking you along by the hand. “Who won?!” Ruby asks, piping up with interest. “It’s like I was paying attention, and then I got distracted by some squirrels because I thought they hibernated this time of year, and then I look back and you guys are skipping over!” “Well technically we did, Sun cheated before any snow hit me, so he was already out before I was hit.” You explain, shooting a playful glower at Sun, who smiles easily. “If you want to get technical, then none of us are winners or losers! The important part is that we all had fun!” Sun says, contradicting your point while his sun rays spin innocently. Code for: I lost so everyone is equal.

You roll your eyes and wink at Ruby, who returns the gesture with childish mirth. You guess Sun could’ve easily won though, he is a robot after all, and using that to his advantage would’ve been quite unfair, so you decide against making any more snarky comments. “Tie.” Georgie says, a smile spreading across his face as he hops off the bench and gives Sun a quick hug before running off, presumably to his mother. “Georgie’s right, a tie.” Ruby concludes, bidding you and Sun goodbye as she starts back home, seeing as how the Sun is setting and the streetlights will soon come on. “That was quick.” You note, getting a nod from Sun while you rub your eyes. “Guess we should get home too, I’m due for some relaxation.” “Us too, we’re done sharing our human for the day.” Sun sighs, stretching out and giving a coquettish little spin of his faceplate. “Oh please, I don’t belong to anyone.” With that you begin your trip back to your small house, holding hands with your animatronic buddy until you reach the porch, only letting go to fish your keys from your pockets. “I brought my keys along before we left, right?” You query, worry welling up in your gut as you search more frantically. “I didn’t lose them in the snowball fight, right? Maybe when I dove in to save Ruby--” “We have a solution!” Sun claims, leaning down and undoing the lock on your door—with your keys. “Hey how did you—oh.” It takes you a moment or two, but you vaguely recall Sun unlocking the door this morning… and well he didn’t really give you back your keys after that. “In you go!” Sun escorts you into the house, keeping you at least five feet away from the couch to avoid any unplanned naps, which would ruin the messy sleep schedule he’s trying to implement. Instead, you’re guided to your room. “Do you require assistance with removing your winter attire?” Sun offers, hands clasped respectfully as he stands near the door.

“Nope, I think I’m good. Probably just take a bath and then chill for the rest of the night.” You reply, holding back a yawn as your eyes drift to the window, where the skies are slipping into their darker shades. “I’ll go ready your water!” Sun chirps, bounding away to do just that, and closing the door behind him. Without wasting any time, you strip off the heavy clothing, a sigh of relief escaping you from the release of pressure on your body. You then fold the snow-coat and snowpants, setting them neatly on your bed as you stretch, rubbing your eyes and running a hand through your hair. You’re happy with how much you did today, got outside, played with kids, really did something that wasn’t lazing about or complaining about college or otherwise. Now it’s time to unwind, relax, take a bath, sit on the couch, sleep. The last thought is rather enticing, but even if you tried you doubt you’d be able to peacefully doze off like you’d like to. You’re still too full of remnants from your fierce snowball match, and plus the cold winter air has your poor bones all chilled. Besides, you’re hungry. Probably shouldn’t have spent all those hours goofing around in the snow and starting mock conflict… or at least not without a snack. Suddenly, a knock sounds on your door and you’re torn from your headspace. It’s probably just Sun, here to inform you of something that would be useful to know, or just some random little tidbit of his knowledge. “SunBun, your bath is prepared!” Sun bellows from the other side of the door, though it comes out a little muffled on your end. “Thanks Buddy!” “No problem!” With that you take a change of clothes from your dresser, choosing the necessary garments before heading to the bathroom, where your bath awaits. It smells nice, the steam rising from it is enough to let you know that it’s fresh and warm, perfect after a long day of harsh weather outside.

Gingerly, you slip out of your clothes, and hop into the tub. You’ll probably be ten to twenty minutes, not too long, just enough to satisfy yourself and your needs. So, a quick washdown and some warmth to relax, and then you’ll head out. The temperate water envelopes you smoothly, seeping into your skin and replacing the heat you’d lost to the unforgiving winter. It’s particularly enjoyable, probably because you deserve it, if only for today. The soapy water softens your muscles and works its way through your body, removing any remaining tension and extra edge to the afternoon you spent outside. After that, bath time is over, you take your washcloth and do a quick washdown of your body, and then drain the water. You then hop out of the tub, dry off, and apply some optional lotions before slipping into your evening gear. Lastly, you take your other pair of clothes and put them in the laundry room… and fetch your snow clothes as well. You decide to go ahead and put them in the washing machine immediately. Sun already took care of the other loads, and no doubt Moon will put them in the dryer later, so it’s a safe move you guess. Now that you’re done, you head up front and see that the Sun has set, and the Moon has awoken from his day-long slumber. It’s not too surprising, you guess you kind of expected this to happen, especially after the long bath. Also, the Sun sets earlier this time of year, so Moon gets to show up a few hours earlier. “Hi, Moon. Fancy seeing you here.” You hum, eyeing the nightly animatronic sat in a loose crisscross on the couch. He spares you a silent wave, eyes soft, white on red, his smile calm and careless. “Dinner, on the stove.” Moon says, and you make a short detour into the kitchen to retrieve said dinner. It’s a simple dish, fit to serve one person. A medium-sized bowl filled with beans, rice, peppers, and other veggies, likely something Sun whipped up on a whim, due to how sudden and absolute their transition is. You grab the food, along with a spoon, and then head back up front to the couch. Moon is casually flicking through channels, until he stops to acknowledge your presence. “Had fun today, Snowface?” Moon asks, his tone teasing as you instinctively deadpan at him. “Based on that question I’m assuming you already know the answer.” You reply, inviting yourself to plop down right into his lap. “I still won anyways.”

Moon snorts, wrapping a gentle arm around your midsection as he turns down the television volume. “Because we let you win.” He retorts, plain and simple. “Well, I don’t think I was supposed to know all that.” You mutter, putting on a mock sense of betrayal. “I thought I deserved better.” “Sun did it.” Moon replies, nonchalantly leaning back into the couch as you fight back a snicker and fail. Blaming the one you coexist in a vessel with, a bold move, but at least he’s not lying. “Did he now? I wouldn’t have guessed.” You continue with the casual shenanigans, eating a spoonful of your dinner to maybe satisfy your hunger a bit. “That doesn’t sound like something Sun would do.” Moon hums, giving a small nod and causing the little bell on the end of his nightcap to fall over his shoulder. “You’ve misjudged him.” Moon admits, shifting a little on the couch. “He’s dastardly.” “Oh my, perhaps I should be more careful.” You muse, shoveling more food into your mouth. It’s not half bad, seasoned well with a good balance of texture and flavor. “You should.” Moon whispers, leaning down to your ear. “Otherwise, you could get hurt.” He finishes, pulling away and pressing his teeth to the top of your head in an endearing manner. You chuckle at the warning, making a note to ‘be more careful’ around Sun. It’s ironic, working at the Pizzaplex, Moon was the one you never thought you’d be able to be this close to. Not like you were all too convinced by animatronic sentience back then anyways. But that’s the past you suppose, taking another bite of your dinner. Some miracle happened and now it’s the present, and here you are, being close to the once homicidal robot who has turned the tables on your relationship. Before you know it, you’re done with your food. You just kind of set the bowl aside on a nearby table within arm’s reach, and then relax into Moon’s lap. He turned on a channel you don’t care to recognize. All you know is that there’s something suspicious going on and there’s a lady who went missing a week or two ago. Odd. “Moon what even is this?” You ask, eyes narrowing at the questionable morale of a teenager caught setting off fireworks indoors.

Moon shrugs and changes the channel. You guess you weren’t all too attached to that weird show anyways, but watching the nature channel at 10:00 PM is kind of off putting. “Why don’t we stream a movie or something?” You suggest, perking up at the thoughts that fill your mind involving movies. “You could sleep.” Moon refutes, pulling you in a smidge closer. “I can help.” Oh…. right, you forgot about the whole curfew thing. You reach into your pocket for your phone, but it appears to have been swiped already. Curses be upon the slick hands belonging to your jester themed animatronic friend. Pure curses. “Moon, give me back my phone.” You breath, voice level and the animatronic behind you snickers. “Nope.” Moon retorts, barely able to contain his maniacal chuckles. “Give it back!” You demand, spinning around on the couch and grabbing Moon by his silicone shoulders. Oh, how far they go with the thievery! You really need to get them back for that someday. “Catch me.” Moon replies, and then smoothly slips from your hold, flashing you a glimpse of your phone before bounding off into the hallway. A sort of half-growl half-roar escapes you as you run after him, along with strings of threats and curses galore. The chase doesn’t last long. This is your house after all, so it’s not like there’s many rooms to hide in or spaces to go to. Moon ends up locking himself in your room, for what reason you’re unsure. The one thing you’re sure of is that you want your phone back, and you will get your phone back. “Moon! Open the door!” You whine, knocking harshly as your rage slowly simmers down to a manageable level. “No.” Moon says, definitive, final, leaving no room for argument. Earning your response as an aggravated groan, before you give up and head back up front. Upon your entry, you spot the empty bowl sitting on the table, forgotten. You do yourself a kindness and just put the thing away. No point in leaving chores unfinished, right? After that you decide to turn off the television, it’s not like you’ll be watching it.

You then go ahead and faceplant onto the couch. You lost the battle, not the war, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. Besides, you’ll launch a counterattack sooner or later, and Moon nor Sun will see it coming. The thought seems quite evident in your mind until of course, a blanket is draped over you. You barely have time to react to it before Moon scoops you up into his arms, and personally carries you to your bedroom. “Sleep. It’s good for you.” Moon hums, voice low in the entrancing way you’ve become accustomed to before bed. “I can help.” With that you’re slid gently onto your bed, and Moon slides in as well. You don’t bother acting angry anymore. Moon had this planned since before you woke up this morning, and there’s legitimately no point trying to fight it. “If you think this will make me forget about my phone, you’re wrong.” You grumble, just for clarity as Moon wraps himself around you in a soft cuddle. “I love you too.” He says, unamused. “Yeah sure, I love you… and goodnight.” You mumble, letting yourself relax into his grip. Tonight, you were going to sleep well. It takes a few minutes for the effect to fully settle in, but the calming hum of Moon’s interworking mechanisms combined with the tiredness that has already swamped your system, you’re out considerably quickly. You had a good day today, and Christmas is just around the corner. Perhaps you can play again in the snow tomorrow. --The End-- Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

De Moogus (Oi but I did good right? Again, I’m particularly regretful about the lateness… but everything kind of went out of whack like two days before gifts were supposed to be being sent. I umm really wanted to wish you the happiest of holidays and may smiles of good fortune accompany your decisions in the future. Never really have done a writing to a person specifically, so I hope what little personalization I did was appreciated. But just a big thanks for making it this far, I got really anxious around the fight and the ending, so I really hope nothing got butchered and it came out smoothly.)

Tags: DCASS2022, Moogus Writes, Writers on Tumblr, Gift, Holiday stuff, Christmas, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Sun X Reader, Moon X Reader, Fnaf Sb, Five Nights at Freddy’s Security Breach,

SCREAMS

HELLO??? HI??? THIS IS BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH MOOGUS I LOVE IT!!!! IM SOFT FOR THE DOMESTIC FLUFF AAAAAAA

PLEASE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT BEING LATE I UNDERSTAND IM SO SORRY YOU GOT UR STUFF TAKEN AWAY D:

I GENUINELY LOVE THIS SO MUCH YOU MADE ME SO HAPPY WITH THIS I AM WITHOUT WORDS SO ALLOW ME TO KEYBOARD SMASH MY EMOTIONS:

SHXNDHXH!!??? DHXJDHXHEUFN!?!? NDJXHDUDJEUCUEHDU!!!!!!!

MUAH! <3

[itsthemoofacewriting]

Freshly Brewed

I posted this on AO3 a few days ago before Christmas, but now I have some time, I’ll post it here too. 

Summary: Sanji changed his shift because it worked better for his class schedule, not because of the gorgeous morning regular. Yeah right.  Rating: T

This is for the SN Secret Santa exchange Ray and I hosted on our discord and I was Mome’s Secret Santa! Mome’s prompt was modern college students AU but that goes hand in hand with a coffee shop AU, right?

I’m basing this on the UK education system, although it shouldn’t really matter.

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN. 

It was going to be a long day.

Stupidly, Sanji had agreed to come in to cover part of Usopp’s morning shift. The engineer student had begged almost everyone to swap shifts, only to be met with refusals. He’d caved after Usopp had whinged for half a day, and that was only to covering part of his shift.

But it now meant Sanji would need to run to make it in time for his classes that morning and come back afterwards to do his normal shift in the evening.

A very long day.

“Usopp, shouldn’t you be going?” He’d been here almost twenty minutes and Usopp had yet to leave.

“I’ll leave in ten minutes; you’re going to want the help,” Usopp informed him gravely, getting an extra bag of coffee beans down from the cupboard.

Sanji looked around the little coffee shop, it was virtually empty apart from the one person already sitting. They’d only had one other person before them and they’d left with their coffee. What was he going on about?

But Usopp was right in the end and he hadn’t been prepared in the slightest.

As the bell kept tinkering, growing more and more irritating by the second, and more sets of feet walked in, he was grateful for the extra sets of hands. One minute it was quiet and the next there was a queue almost going out of the door. The change was so sudden that he presumed this was the morning rush Usopp always complained about.

It’d been a mad fifteen minutes, both of them working around one another in silence to get the queue down as quickly as possible and it was only once their final customer was gone that Sanji voiced his surprise.

“I know! I keep saying but no one listens,” Usopp whined in response.

“Maybe because you’re so dramatic all the time,” Sanji said, eyeing the way Usopp was slumped over the counter, pretending to be dead.

He laughed when Usopp shot up, outraged at the accusation.

The door opened and whatever he was going to say died on his lips, instead saying, “I’ll help you with one last customer and then I’m going.”

Sanji was going to protest, to say he could leave now, until he caught sight of the next customer and stopped dead in his tracks. He was suddenly glad Usopp had stayed, because he could no longer speak, language lost on him as he gaped at the women approaching the counter.

He would have made a fool of himself in front of her if he’d been left by himself.

Now, Sanji was pretty sure before this moment that he didn’t have a type. He’d always thought he appreciated all people and the different features they had as each person was beautiful in their own way. But looking at the person before him, he realised just how wrong he had been. She ticked all the boxes he hadn’t realised he had.

Long, orange hair? Check. Round doe eyes? Check. Soft pink lips? Check. A body that if he looked at for too long, he’d pass out? Check.

She was gorgeous.

What shocked him out of his stupor was when Usopp greeted her so casually. “Hey, you’re later than usual, I didn’t think you were coming.”

And she reciprocated in kind, “Morning Usopp! I woke up late and debated it, but I need this if I’m going to make it through my morning lecture.”

She knew his name?

They chatted back and forth so easily. Usopp moved around him, making her order, as he stood there like a fool. All he managed was a wobbly smile when she looked at him and she’d offered a more confident one in return. That had almost been enough to finish him.

He was interrupted from him gawking as she spoke, “I should definitely be getting free coffees! I’m a regular, you should be looking after me.”

Based on the way Usopp rolled his eyes at her, it was an argument they had frequently.

Rude. He’d give her whatever she wanted. Free coffee… His heart…

“You’d bleed the shop dry if we did that! And don’t pretend I didn’t give you one two visits ago!”

“You did not!”

They squabbled back and forth for the rest of the transaction and Sanji couldn’t help but feel a tiny stab of jealousy at how relaxed they were around each other. Although it was over soon enough, as she took her drink and made her way out of the shop, throwing a casual wave over her shoulder as she went.

As soon as the door closed, Usopp turned, ready to go but bumped into Sanji who was breathing down his neck.

“Who is she? How do you know her? Is she single?” The questions spilled out all in one hurried breath.

Wide eyed, Usopp took a step back and pointed to the back room where his stuff was, “I have to go now, I’m going to be late.”

Sanji’s hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him like the answers would come tumbling out. “You’ve stayed this long; you can spare me another minute!”

Sighing, Usopp answered, “Her name’s Nami. She’s a regular but we also go to the same university-” Sanji silently cursed himself at that, he knew he should’ve gone to university- “and I don’t know. I’ve never seen her with anyone, and she’s never said anything.”

Somehow, Sanji crowded in closer, “Introduce me,” he demanded, but then faltered, “wait no, don’t. Too obvious.” Then thought again, “But then if you’re friends, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”

Usopp pried himself free as Sanji continued to mutter to himself, putting some distance between them. Snorting, he said, “You’re overthinking this.”

“You’re right. I’ll just go with the flow. Does she come in randomly or on certain days?” He’d be prepared next time, he’d make sure of it.

“I normally only see her on Monday mornings, she might come in other times, but I don’t see her,” Usopp informed him, Sanji trailed behind him as he grabbed his bag to leave.

Suddenly that rush to his morning classes didn’t seem all that bad after seeing her.

“Swap shifts with me!”

.

.

.

Convincing Usopp had been easier than he’d expected and he suspected it was due to the early start after the weekend.

The week had been longer than normal. Classes had dragged, he’d burned himself, which he hadn’t done since the start of the year, and he hadn’t seen Nami at all. He’d been on high alert since Monday, both in and out of the coffee shop. The door would open, and he’d spring into action only to be disappointed. He felt like he’d been looking over his shoulder as he went about his normal week, just hoping to catch a glimpse of long orange hair. He’d been tempted to visit Usopp on the university campus but he decided that might be a bit too desperate… for the time being anyway, he wasn’t ruling anything out in the future.

But finally, the following Monday had rolled around. It hadn’t been hard to get up for his newly acquired early shift and he had a spring in his step since he’d left the bed at the thought of seeing her.

As he opened up the shop at 6am, he pondered on when he’d actually see her. He hadn’t asked Usopp what time she usually came around, but he tried to settle his nerves by not thinking about it. Which was hard to do, considering it was so quiet. To occupy himself, he’d cleaned the tables, moved a few of them around and cleaned the coffee machines knowing it’d have to be done later anyway. He’d only served a handful of people in between and if he hadn’t seen how busy it could get, he’d call Usopp a liar for constantly complaining.

Which was why, when he turned, cup in hand, the last thing he expected was to see her standing there. Luckily said cup was empty because in his surprise, the cup slipped out of his hands and he fumbled, with what he hoped was some form of grace, to catch it before it smashed on the ground. His hopes were quickly dashed when he looked to see Nami trying to contain a laugh. He could feel his face heating up, from embarrassment and because she was even prettier than he remembered.

He tried to muster up some form of confidence as he greeted her, “Hi! Good morning! Did you want the orange latte again?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him and he realised a second too late just what he’d done. Sure, he’d been obsessing over every detail from her last visit, but he didn’t need her knowing that.

Luckily, she spared him. “Morning, no Usopp?”

“Ah, no. I swapped shifts with him, this works better for his schedule.” It wasn’t a total lie and he was not going to tell her the truth, he’d sound like a creep.

She nodded, smile looking a little too knowing and it made him sweat but she didn’t challenge it. “I’ll have the orange latte to go, large, thanks.”

“Coming right up.” He could do this, just make the coffee, strike up casual small talk and he’d be fine. He moved around, starting the process of making her drink and asked, “Boring lecture again?”

“I was up late from work and it was a slow night.”

“Oh, what do you do?” Maybe she also worked at a coffee shop, they had 24-hour coffee shops around here, right? And competitor or not, he would be visiting if she did.

“I work at a bar down the street, it’s normally lively regardless of the night but it dragged last night.”

Her pout was adorable and as much as he wanted to talk to her more, there was already someone waiting and he’d witnessed first-hand last week how quickly things could change. Besides, he was in no rush, he had time.

“Well hopefully your day goes quicker!” He said, placing her coffee down on the counter for her. “It’s on the house.”

“An improvement on Usopp already,” she said, winking at him.

He was in love.

.

.

.

Sanji liked working at the coffee shop. It was owned by an elderly couple who were more than understanding that students needed part time jobs, so they’d hired a few full timers and multiple part timers to cover shifts in the mornings and afternoons around classes. He spent half of his time working alone and the two other shifts working with Luffy or Usopp.

It wasn’t a big commercial chain coffee shop but it was busy enough. It was small and quaint, with dark wooden panelling on the floor, scratch marks haphazardly scattered across them from chairs scraping over the years, and mismatched tables dotted around. There were sofas pressed against the walls at the back and photography on the walls, varying from local landscapes to someone’s cat. It was homely and he’d always liked it there, even from the first-time walking in to hand in his application.

But now it was even better because there was a beautiful woman that graced him with her presence multiple times a week.

He always saw her every Monday morning since swapping shifts, so he’d come to expect that but she’d also started to appear on a Wednesday and Thursday evening, as well as a Sunday afternoon. Not like clockwork but frequently enough and he had to shove down the thought that maybe she’d asked Usopp for his schedule. The thought made him giddy but he was trying to play this cool. For now anyway.

From their brief encounters, he’d learned that she was in her first year of university, studying meteorology and she was brilliant. She was smart, really smart and friendly and pretty and kind. A little girl had dropped her croissant the other day and before he could offer a new one, Nami’d given hers up. He’d of course given Nami a new one but she hadn’t thought for a second before offering up hers.

But most of all, above everything else, they were slowly getting to know one another and it seemed like they were getting along so far, which was the biggest thrill.

.

.

.

He was working on Wednesday afternoon with Luffy and every time they worked together, he questioned what the owners were thinking when they employed Luffy and then their sanity when they actually kept him. He was a good friend, having met through working together, but he burned the coffee and ate the food from the display shelf, which was why he mainly cleaned and collected used cups from tables.

At the moment, Luffy was finishing his break in the back when Nami walked in.

“Hi Nami, the usual?” Sanji greeted as she entered, in his multiple times serving her, she’d never ordered anything different.

“Hi Sanji, yes please, but to stay this time.”

“Oh?” He couldn’t hide the note of delight in his tone and he suddenly got an idea.

“I’ve got some notes to go over and it’s quiet here.”

He moved to make her order. “Party?”

“No, someone has… company.”

It was totally natural and common knowledge with what went on at university with students all living together but coming from her made his cheeks warm, like he was some prude.

He was saved from having to give a response as the back door swung open and Luffy hurried in.

“Nami!” He cheered.

“Hey Luffy, the place is still standing I see?”

“Not without effort,” Sanji deadpanned and felt proud when she laughed.

He was distracted once the mircofoam was ready and his focus went onto pouring it meticulously into her cup.

“How come I don’t see you as often now when I’m working?” Luffy sulked and although his back was turned, he imagined the other boy had turned on his puppy eyes.

“I’ve been busy,” Nami excused and whilst he could understand that, her tone was flustered that he couldn’t resist peeking over his shoulder. She had rosy cheeks and her eyes flittered to his nervously, quickly looking away when they made eye contact.

“Here you go,” Sanji interrupted, saving her from their conversation, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on.

“Thank you.” She almost went to take the cup but paused. “Latte art?”

“Yeah, I’m working on it-” He’d practised this design ever since he’d learned what she was studying but it’d still taken everything in him not to do a heart and now he was glad he hadn’t. It would’ve been far too forward- “so it’s on the house.”

At this stage, he didn’t need to give her excuses for free coffee, he’d never made her pay when he served her.

She thanked him before commenting, “I haven’t seen a lightning bolt before though.”

“I like a challenge and you’re studying meteorology, right?”

Her smile was warm and it was worth it all. “I’ll have to take a picture to show my roommate!”

She went to find a table a few minutes later after he’d explained how he’d managed to make the art and he watched her go, eyes scanning from her appealing backside to the gentle swish of her long hair.

Before he was caught by her, he turned to see Luffy blinking at him owlishly. Shit, he’d forgot he was there and whilst he could be an idiot, if Luffy stared him down for long enough, he might just figure it out, so-

“There’s a new recipe I need to you taste test.”

“Can I have it now?!”

“Does it look like I can make a full meal here? I’ll bring it in next week.”

With Luffy now distracted, they carried on at they normally did. Well, at least he tried to. Whilst Sanji was normally distracted when Nami visited, it’d never been like this before and he found his eyes wondering over to her whenever he had the chance. Normally she came in, chatted for a few minutes and was then gone, but now, she was constantly in his peripheral and her presence was bewitching. He’d already discovered that when she was thinking, she’d absently tap the end of her pen to her lips but then her face would light up when she figured it out, pen quickly moving across the paper to jot it down.

He'd tried not to bother her and had even stopped Luffy from going over twice after she’d said she needed some quiet but when he’d noticed her cup was empty, he’d allowed himself to go over, hot drink in hand.

She’d smiled at him as he approached and whilst swapping the empty cup for a new one, he’d asked how she was getting on. She told him that she was also taking a few accounting classes per week, to keep her options open whilst she decided what she wanted to do but between that, her job and some tough papers, she was trying to catch up. He was about to excuse himself, not wanting to overstay his welcome when she was clearly busy, when she asked-

“What about you? I haven’t seen you at the university?”

“I’m studying at the culinary school down the road.”

“Down the road? That’s the best one in the area!” As an afterthought she added, “no wonder your latte art is so good.”

He beamed at her, silently relishing the awe on her face. “I want to be a professional chef and further down the road, own a restaurant.” He paused, eyes flicking to her papers to add, “Maybe it’s a good thing I know an accountant?”

Her eyes gleamed and it was an expression he hadn’t seen before but liked all the same. “I might be able to cut you a deal if you play your cards right.”

“I’d be honoured.”

The sound of the door opening meant the arrival of a customer and as much as he didn’t want to part so soon, he couldn’t leave Luffy to serve them. He pulled away, practically gliding towards the counter, as the conversation played in a loop and he squirreled away all the new information he’d learned.

Once the customer was dealt wit and out the door with their coffee, his gaze naturally returned back to Nami. She was typing on her laptop now, fingers furiously moving across the keyboard and even when she was concentrating, she was so pretty. And smart. He couldn’t stop the sigh that left his lips.  

“Ooooooh,” Luffy said far too loudly from where he was sitting on the counter, legs swinging haphazardly, “that’s what Usopp was talking about.”

He tore his eyes away from Nami to ask, “What’re you talking about now?” If it was another tall tale he’d lied about, he’d kick them both. He still hadn’t recovered from the toaster incident.

“He said you were all starry-eyed but that doesn’t make sense because no one has star for eyes, right? So I figured he was lying or something-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He cut off, exasperated and wiping down the counter.

Luffy leaned forward, eyes shining as his mouth opened, “You have a crush on N-”

He dropped the cloth in his hand like it’d electrocuted him and slapped a hand over Luffy’s mouth to stop him from loudly sharing his own damn confession. He’d tell Nami at some point, if he was lucky enough to get closer to her but he’d be damned if it came from Luffy of all people.

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed and looked over his shoulder but luckily Nami was still working.

Even with his mouth covered, Luffy still managed to look mischievous as he waggled his eyebrows at Sanji.

“If you open your mouth, you’ll have to survive on Usopp’s cooking from then on.”

They both knew that was an empty threat but with eyes like saucers, Luffy still nodded and when Sanji dropped his hand, he pretended to zip his mouth closed.

With one last glare, Sanji went back to stealing glances at Nami and moved onto a new patch of counter to clean. It didn’t matter that the counter was squeaky clean already, from here he could pretend to work and keep tabs on Nami’s cup and maybe sneak a few more glances at her.

“I’m doing all the work,” Luffy huffed behind him, still sat on the counter doing sweet nothing.

“I don’t want to hear that from you!” Sanji snapped. “Don’t think I’ve missed you stealing muffins from the case. Go sweep the floor!”

“Dunno how you saw that when all you do is stare at Nami,” Luffy muttered under his breath, pouting as he grabbed the broom.

.

.

.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, it was getting busier for the both of them and he liked to think they’d bonded over that, even if it meant they were sometimes like passing ships.

She’d lamented about doing things outside of her degree, especially as the bar was getting busier so they asked her to cover more shifts and the same thing was happening to him. She had two exams coming up and a paper she still had to finish and he had practical’s coming out of his ears as well as presenting a menu he’d created.

They were both stressed and counting down the days until they could breathe a sigh of relief.

.

.

.

It’d been raining on and off all day and it’d just started again as he went in to cover for someone who’d called in sick on Friday after a long day of classes. He didn’t really feel like it, not after he’d had a practical today but it was money he didn’t want to pass up that could go towards his restaurant fund.

He wasn’t far from the shop when something caught his eye on the opposite side of the road and he realised why when he saw long orange hair. The figure was hunched over, walking just a few steps ahead of him and by the looks of it, powerwalking. Whilst he couldn’t see her face but he’d recognise her anywhere.

“Hey!” He called, “Nami!”

He checked the road before half-jogging across the road just as she turned, searching for the voice and his heart panged, she looked miserable.

She stopped as he approached and he gave her a once over. She was soaked and although it was raining, it wasn’t raining that much. “Hey, where’s your umbrella?” It was a stupid question. It was obviously not with her otherwise she’d be using it but it was mainly said out of concern.

Without a second thought, he stepped closer to cover her with his umbrella, shielding them both from the rain. Although it might not be so effective for her anymore.

“This guy splashed me with his car! He could have easily gone around the very large and obvious puddle, there wasn’t any traffic! And he didn’t even stop to apologise,” she seethed; eyebrows furrowed and ignoring his question. “If I ever see him again, I’m-”

“I’m going to kick his arse,” he interrupted, feeling furious. That explained why she was so wet but he couldn’t believe someone would splash her.  

A bark of a laugh bubbled past her lips. “At least chivalry isn’t dead but it’s probably for the best we don’t get you a criminal record, I can’t imagine that’ll help with your future restaurant business.”

“I just can’t believe someone would splash you, what a lack of manners.” He was too angry to joke with her, even if the light returning to her eyes did take the edge off.

“I know but at least you and your umbrella were here to save the day.”

“I’m glad I am. I’m not meant to be working today but someone called in sick, so I picked up the shift. Come on, we’re not far from the shop, we can dry you off there.”

He didn’t really wait for her to agree as he swapped the umbrella into his other hand and used his free arm to gently guide her into walking with him. He made sure to position himself on the outside, so that if anyone did dare to splash them, she wouldn’t get even wetter.

“At least my bag isn’t soaked, it has my notes and laptop in,” she told him, loosening her arms to show him the bag that had been curled into her body. Now he understood why she was hunching over. Still though-

“Did you get their number plate?” He half joked.

“Sanji, no!” She laughed, playfully smacking his arm.

He ignored the barista’s raised eyebrows as he walked in with Nami, stopping to shake off any excess water before collapsing the umbrella and putting it in the stand. His hand was gentle on her back as he guided her through the shop, passed the counter and to the back.

“It feels forbidden to be back here,” Nami told him in amusement.

“If only it was that interesting.” There was a small hallway which branched off into two rooms. One was a small staff room for people to take breaks and the other was for a storage cupboard for cleaning products, coffee beans and cups.

He ended up taking her to the storage cupboard where they had clean towels to help with any spills and moved to grab some towels for her.

He didn’t think about what he was doing when he wrapped the towel around her shoulders, gently lifting her hair so it sat over the top. He definitely didn’t think about the fact that she let him. He was so close he could see the freckles on her face but they were slowly being lost to the pink on her cheeks and he cleared his throat, feeling his own cheeks warm.

“They’re clean, I promise,” he said, trying to seem casual as he handed her a towel to dry herself off.

He tried not to gawk as she dried herself off, dabbing her arms, scooping up her hair to try and get as much moisture out as possible but there wasn’t anywhere else to look. Well, that was of interest.

“Hopefully this dries off quickly.” She pinched her top and he watched the way it stuck to her when she let it go.

“You can wear this,” He offered, not waiting for a response as he pulled his hoody off over his head, no doubt his hair looked a bit fluffy afterwards, and held it out to her. “I can’t wear it for my shift.”

He took it as a win when she just accepted it with a smile but when neither moved, her smile turned sharp.

“Turn around then, unless you want a show? But I can assure you it’s not free,” she teased, leaning in and he gulped heavily as he looked down at her lips.

There was a pregnant pause as he stared at her wide eyed, his brain short-circuited before remembering himself and turning around. He tried not to think about the rustling from the clothes he could hear, her wet top peeling off her body to be replaced by his hoody. His hoody. Which she had no problem wearing.

And his thoughts were spiralling from there until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

All he could do was stare and he wasn’t bothering to try and hide it. The blue in his hoody brought out the vibrancy of her hair and she was almost drowning in it. The hoody was big on her, the sleeves bunching at her wrists, threatening to slip down and went down to her thigh. All he could think about was how pretty she was and that it was his. That really did it for him apparently.

“Do I look okay?” It was a stark difference from her previous comment and he realised it was because she was self-conscious. He didn’t like it.

“Yeah.” And whilst it may have seemed like a plain response, when it was paired with the breathy way he’d said it, like he’d been punched in the gut, he might as well have written a poem dedicated to her beauty.

Her hair was still damp but it was starting to curl as it dried and her wet top was in her hands now. And he was suddenly very aware that they were in the back storage room alone and it wasn’t spacious. She was so close he had to look down with their height difference and he still couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her lips.

His hand twitched to tuck a loose strange behind her ear and he needed to get out of here, otherwise he was going to do something stupid.

“I- my shift is about to start.” It broke the spell they were under and she took as small step back as he cleared his throat. He had been about to do something stupid. “Let’s find you a radiator to sit next to, I’ll turn up the heating.”

He got her settled on one of the tables to the side, pressed against a radiator and when she pulled out her wet top to rest over the top, he tried not to think about the fact she had nothing on under the jumper. Instead, he focused on her wide smile when she saw her dry laptop and notes.

He left her momentarily to get her a hot drink and he smiled when her hands curled around it, a small shiver going down her body from the warmth.

His shift had started and he was now alone to man the shop, yet he had some time to spare to ask, “Apart from the obvious, how was your day? Better I hope?”

“Not really, this was just the cherry on top. Today’s one of my heavy days and I have Professor Enel and if I have to listen to him talk about his crusty old paper from years back one more time, I’m going to scream.”

He laughed and when she gave him an unimpressed look, he explained, “Sorry, it was the crusty paper that got me, not your awful day.”

She laughed then too. “It’s funny now but not when you have to listen for the hundredth time about his ‘ground-breaking’ paper from day dot.”

“Boring or self-centred?”

“He’s very knowledgeable but he’s a know it all and loves himself,” she told him with an eyeroll. “His paper didn’t hold up in peer-review but he conveniently forgets that.”

“Someone should tell him.”

“Unless you want war, sure. If someone snaps, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Just send in Luffy.”

She laughed and this was what he wanted. They’d spoken quite a bit now over the last few weeks and he felt like he was getting to know her, especially as they shared friends. They were getting past the polite small talk and he took that as a win. He didn’t want to just ask her out, especially as he wasn’t sure she’d accept.

He had to leave her shortly after to get some work done now that he was by himself but the few times he’d been caught looking over, she’d smiled at him. The time went quicker today, from being alone and because whenever he had the chance, he’d go over to talk to her more or, for the first time, she’d come up to the counter to talk to him under the illusion of returning her empty cup.

When he checked the time, he was surprised to see he only had half an hour left and that Nami was still at the café.

“Hey, my shift finishes in thirty minutes, if you wait, I can walk you back.”

“Are you sure? It’s the opposite direction.”

It wasn’t a no.

“It’s still raining out and it’s getting dark, I can’t let you walk back by yourself and I don’t mind the walk.”

“Okay, I’ll finish what I’m doing and pack up.”

She waited for him under the umbrella outside as he did a final scan before turning off the lights and locking the doors. All of them had a set of keys to let themselves in and out with, apart from Luffy who had lost his. They had to work the rota around him now.

When he was done, he took the umbrella from Nami to hold between them and started to walk towards the university.

She was the first one to break the silence as she asked, “If you’re studying to be a chef, why didn’t you choose to work at a restaurant?”

It was a good point and Usopp has asked too. “My Dad, Zeff, owns a restaurant but he said that until I’m qualified, I’d just get in the way.” He huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “But really, he just wants me to focus and pass.”

“So why not work at a different restaurant?”

“I don’t really want to work for competition and they probably couldn’t give me flexibility I need.”

“He should just let you work there; you’ve got a job anyway.”

Exactly the point he’d made every time they discussed it. Or he discussed it and Zeff shooed him off. “He’s too stubborn!”

With the topic of family, he’d asked about hers and she’d told him about her mother Bell-mére, sister Nojiko and father figure Genzo. She’d told him she was adopted and maybe a bit too eagerly, he’d told her he was too.

When they made it to campus, she took the lead and their conversation drifted from family to pointing out notable places as they walked to her dorm. The cafeteria, the buildings where her classes were, the football field Luffy had broken into late at night and he’d hung on her every word. As it was a Friday, there were people meandering around but apart from the casual wave Nami gave a girl in passing, no one had bothered them.

He was disappointed when they arrived in front of her building, knowing that his time with her was coming to an end. Even if it was just casual between friends, he liked hanging out with her and considering she’d stayed in the shop all evening, he hoped the feeling was reciprocated.

When she lingered in front of the door, fiddling with her keys, he took the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with her.

“After knowing Usopp all this time, I’ve never actually been on campus.”

“Well, when there’s a party next, you should come.”

That was his opening.

Ask for her number.

“Yeah, I’m sure Usopp or Luffy will let me know.”

Idiot.

“Or I could.” There was a look in her eye that made his palms sweaty.

Do it now.

Ask for her number.

Ask her on a date.

Kiss her.

Anything!

“Yeah, that’d be cool.”

… Other than that.

Cool? What was he, 12?

After a brief pause, like she was waiting for him to continue, she quirked her lips, amused, and he felt like maybe there had been an opening after all and he’d missed it.

“Well, this is me, I live on the top floor but if you wait a second, I can get changed and give you your hoody back.”

“No it’s fine, keep it.” That sounded too forward. “I mean, you can give it back to me when I see you next.”

She almost looked exasperated for a second before the look disappeared and she said, “Thanks for walking me back, night Sanji.”

“Goodnight.”

He watched her open the door and forced himself to move after she looked over her shoulder to give him a final wave goodbye.

He was an idiot.

.

.

.

It’d been a fairly busy shift as Usopp was on holiday. It was busy in short bursts that left him rushing around and then so quiet he felt like he was twiddling his thumbs, just looking for things to do.

Right now it was quiet. He’d cleaned the coffee machine a few times now, the few customers he did have in the shop were all served and sitting at tables enjoying their drinks, so he’d turned to his coursework for the week. It was due tomorrow and he needed to put finishing touches on it.

The jingle of the bell caught his attention and he perked instantly when he saw Robin walking through and eagerly stood at the counter trying to subtly peer around her for a glimpse of Nami. He tried to smother down his disappointed as the door closed behind Robin.

“Good afternoon, Sanji,” Robin greeted him pleasantly, but her eyes were sharp. “No Nami I’m afraid, just me.”

He couldn’t stop the guilty look spreading across his face; she’d seen straight through him. Worried about offending her he argued, “No! It’s lovely to see you too!”

Wasn’t it a sacred rule not to upset the best friend? He was such a tool.

She gave him an appeasing smile but she didn’t look like she believed a word he’d just said. “She’s got back-to-back lectures and then her study group.”

“Yikes,” he grimaced.

“Mm, I imagine she’ll be quite tired when she’s finished for the day.”

Poor Nami. Maybe he could give her something.

“Black coffee?” He asked, but there was no point. In all his time of serving her, she always had the same thing. Black coffee, no frills.

She hummed in agreement, “To stay, please,” and he moved on autopilot to make it.

“How’s your day going?”

“Good, I almost finished my assignment but I just need to make some finishing touches and thought this would be the place to do it.”

“What’s the paper on?”

She perked up at his question. “It’s about the Akkadian language and it’s development through the ages before its subsequent death…”

He nodded, listening as he poured the coffee into a mug.

He liked talking to Robin. She’d come in a few times with Nami and she’d been introduced as Nami’s roommate. She was a calm woman, pleasant and incredibly sharp. So much so, it made him feel like she constantly saw through him. He didn’t doubt that she knew about his interest in Nami but she’d never said anything outright and from what he could gather, she never said anything to Nami, which he appreciated.

Outside of that, he liked listening to her talk about her interests. She was in her third year of Archaeology and he had no doubt that she’d go far. She absorbed everything and was well into learning her second dead language. It made her fascinating to listen to.

They chatted for a bit longer before she went to find a table with her coffee in hand and he was entering into his busy period as he worked quickly to take orders, work the till and make the coffee’s.

But as he worked, he felt paranoid as he could feel eyes on him. Yet when he looked up in-between making drinks, he couldn’t find anything out of place. No awkward eye contact or heads quickly moving to avoid detection. It was always when his head was down or his back was to the room that he felt them heavy on his neck.

Maybe he was just tired.

A gaggle of women came in then, distracting him from his thoughts, they were rather loud and giggled between themselves. Although he tried not to be big-headed or presumptuous, he was sure one of them was flirting with him. Whether it was genuine or not he didn’t know and in the past, he might have indulged their flirting but now, all he could think about was how they weren’t Nami. How they didn’t have her sharp wit, her soft features or the way she made his heart pulse through his chest.

So instead, he was flattered but kept it polite as he served them. Maybe it was rude to charge them, they looked disappointed but he’d feel weird if he didn’t. Almost like he’d betrayed Nami.

The thought was disregarded as soon as they left and he moved onto the next customer, absently wondering what Nami was doing right now. He wondered if she thought about him.

“I’m off now Sanji, I’ll see you next time!” She said, placing her empty cup down as the last customer left.  

“Oh, you’re leaving? Would you mind taking this for Nami?” He asked, picking up a paper bag that he’d prepared to hand to her.

“A muffin?”

“Maybe it’ll cheer her up? It sounds like she’s having a tough day. There’s one in there for you too.”

“Thank you, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, I’ll let her know you’re thinking of her.”

Robin definitely knew but at least it seemed like she was in his corner.

It was a little while later that Sanji realised that feeling he’d had for most of his shift was gone. It didn’t feel like he was being watched anymore and he couldn’t feel eyes on him. He looked towards the door as the most notable thing that changed was Robin leaving. Would she…? He shook his head; he was being silly.

It wouldn’t be until later, much later, that Sanji realised he had passed the test with flying colours.

.

.

.

Christmas break was just around the corner, his practicals were done for the year now and he knew Nami’s exams were over too. After knowing her for so long now, he wanted to ask for her number but he hadn’t built up the nerve yet. He was sure they were friends now so he wasn’t worried about her saying no, but he wanted to ask her on a date and get her number because of that. That was what he was worried about.

He wasn’t sure how she felt about him. Sometimes he thought it was reciprocated, with the way she looked at him; smile wide and eyes warm. Especially after the other night, after finding her in the rain and walking her home, the scene played in a loop in his head as he picked it apart obsessively.

He’d been distracted for most of his shift and Usopp had already huffed at him multiple times. Sanji had told him about the other night and asked for his opinion on whether he thought Nami might like him but he’d been very plain in his response, “Just ask her out already.”

The moment Nami had walked through the door, chipper as she waved at Sanji, Usopp rolled his eyes muttering about him being lovesick. Before she made it to the counter, he muttered to Sanji, “You’ll be of no use now, I’ll cover you.”

Although rude, Sanji appreciated it and he’d make sure to bring him in something the next time they worked together.

Him and Nami fell into their usual routine as he made her coffee and stood off to the side after he’d passed it to her. He didn’t bother telling her it was on the house anymore.

“Christmas break is coming up; do you have any plans?”

“My last class is in a few days and then I’m going home until classes start again in January to be with my family,” she explained. She’d come in earlier in the week gushing about how she’d passed her final exam and he grinned at the weight that’d lifted off her shoulders. “What about you?”

“I’ll be working through the break here and probably helping Zeff at the restaurant when he’s not being stubborn.”

He’d miss her coming into the café whilst she was gone but this was his chance, he should ask her now. If she said yes, the two-week gap would kill him but if she said no, hopefully any awkwardness would be gone after two weeks and they could pretend nothing had happened afterwards. Because as disappointed as he would be, he’d still want to be her friend.

He could do it; he could do it. He was trying to mentally prep himself. Maybe we can keep in touch whilst you’re aware? It was smooth and he could recover if she said no.

It was a great plan but unfortunately, what came out instead was-

“So, whilst you’re here, I was just wondering-” He couldn’t do it, he faltered when he caught her expectant face looking back at him waiting for him to continue- “if you have any plans for whilst you’re home?” His shoulders sagged in defeat.

Usopp snorted from behind him, which was even worse because he’d heard too. He was never going to hear that end of that.

He wanted to hang his head, what a loser. It was so easy in his head but when actually looking at her, he was tongue tied.

“Are you ever going to ask me out?” Her tone was caught between impatient and amused.

His throat went dry and all he could do was gape as he was caught of guard. It was the last thing he’d expected to come out of her mouth. She’d said it so matter of fact and calmly. Even now she was looking at him like she’d asked him about the weather

“Uh- Sanji, sorry to interrupt, but we need cups.”

He turned to glare at Usopp, if he thought this was a funny thing to do- except the shop was now looking considerably busier and there were only two cups left. Shit. Of course this would happen, of course it would!

He turned to face Nami and he could feel his mouth moving yet no words were actually coming out.

She frowned, confidence wavering for a second. “Or have I got the wrong idea here?”

“Yes!”

Idiot, he’d just answered the wrong question. Her face was unreadable now and he had to move quickly because he was about to mess up the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

“No!”

Great, now she looked confused and he couldn’t say anything more than one syllable words.

“Sanji!” Usopp called, exasperated and down to one cup left.

He finally managed to get his mouth to work as he replied to Usopp, “I’m going, two seconds.”

He then turned to Nami who was looking at him cautiously and the words fell out, “No, you haven’t got the wrong idea and yes, I’ve wanted to ask you out since the first time I met you,” any plans for a romantic confession were out the window, he was apparently doing it here, “but I didn’t want to do it like this-”

“For the love of, Sanji!”

“Just, wait here- don’t move, I’ll be right back!”

Shitty cups and shitty timing, he cursed to himself as he kicked the door open to the storage cupboard. Arms loaded with paper cups, there would be no reason to distract him now, he made his way to the front to dump the cups but he couldn’t stop himself for scouring the shop for orange hair.

Hair that wasn’t anywhere in sight.

He tried to swallow down his disappointment, he thought that conversation was going somewhere else. Maybe she just didn’t want him getting his hopes up.  

Just as he was about to put the fresh cups down, he saw a cup where Nami had been standing only minutes ago and his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest when he saw writing on it.

Coffee?

07700 900 4960

X

There was a pink kiss mark below her writing.

He swooned.

“Sanji, the cups!”

Usopp did not.

--------------------------------

You can join our sanami discord here, the more the merrier!

As for Luffy working at the coffee shop, don’t you think there’s always someone that can’t really do their job properly but they’re such as personality that everyone loves them regardless?

As always, please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading. 

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[blinder-secrets]

Lion Tamer - part 8

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

3,270 words, mild nsfw

ao3 link

It was late when you left, but London didn’t seem to follow time in the same way that it did elsewhere. There was no slowing in the approach to midnight. No sign that things were about to be wrapped up, shut away. The pavement outside the club Arthur had chosen was as full as the inside, just as loud, just as unruly. You would’ve had to queue if you weren’t with him. Fuck, you’d have turned around and left altogether if he wasn’t attached to your palm. You weren’t used to the noise, to the heave and pull of bodies. It would’ve been unbearable without your anchor.

Arthur, however, walked through it like he knew where he was going, like he was put together in the midst of it, made of the racket. He’d insisted he’d never been but his shoulders parted the crowds easily, footsteps sure and keen, hand wrapped tightly around yours the entire way. He didn’t stop until you were by a table near the front of the stage — one that had been cleared and emptied quickly, frantically, like you were unexpected but valuable all the same.

‘Here, love,’ he said, holding the chair out for you.

‘Thank-you.’ You sat down quickly, eager to be out of the way. The band at the front were mid-set, already roaring, the audience loud and pulsing with alcohol. ‘This is…’ There wasn’t a word. You felt like your mind was rattling in the bend of the nearest trombone.

‘I know,’ Arthur finished, though you’d barely begun, and dropped into the chair beside you. ‘Nothing like this in fuckin’ Small Heath, is there?’

You snorted. ‘It wouldn’t survive if there was.’ The gold would tarnish before it could even be appreciated. ‘Is this what they’re all like?’ you asked, cringing at the volume you had to speak to be heard.

‘Nah, nah,’ he shrugged, ‘just the expensive ones.’ His eyes were on the table, his hands reaching for the small card that sat in its middle. He took it all in like it was Christmas, sank into his seat like he was home. Shoulders softened, angled down, his breathing deep and satisfied. He looked happy, brand-new. His knee fell against yours as he settled. ‘What d’you want?’ he blurted, squinting at the writing in his hands. ‘Somethin’ to drink?’

You didn’t realise you were smiling until it curved your words into a purr. ‘You pick, Arthur. I don’t mind.’

The tone pulled his gaze to you. ‘What?’ He flitted over you quickly, like he was worried you’d done something and he’d missed it. ‘What is it?’

‘You look happy,’ you told him, laughing beneath it. ‘I like it, that’s all.’

He was flustered for a moment. ‘Well, I am happy,’ he said, gruffly, like the sentiment had to be bracketed with something rugged. ‘Bloody happy.’

‘Good. Me too.’ You laughed. Your hand fell away from where it’d been propped under your chin, and went to cover his. The back of his palm was warm, familiar, his thumb lifted to rest over your fingers. ‘Go on, then,’ you pushed, ‘order us something.’

He nodded, smiling, and looked back to the card. He didn’t let you pull your hand away. ‘There’s a poet on next,’ he said. ‘You like that stuff, right?’

Deja Vu. That’s what it was. That’s how he looked at you, that’s how it felt. That’s why you were giddy. It had happened before, all of it, it was youth repackaged and polished into something new. The two of you were exactly the same as you’d always been, except now you’d lived some. Now, you’d realised it was worth trying. Cherishing. You were teenagers without the wanton carelessness, without the desire to stay free and untethered, without the need to ask, but what’s next? What else is there? Where do I go when you’ve left?

You knew the answers now, you’d worked it out.

What came next didn’t matter; everything that was worth having was already there, already found. If you’d rushed, it wouldn’t be so sweet or so certain. You didn’t need to ask him to know he felt the same.

The food they served was small, and designed to be eaten between the pinch of two fingers. He’d picked a few plates to share and you had passed them to each other like you were critics, commenting on the crumb of the biscuits, the seasoning of the fish. You’d laughed and drank, and talked about everything from everywhere, until you were so looped up in each other that his thoughts seemed to come from your head directly. You were talking like you read each others mind, like you’d opened the gate and welcomed him in. Take a seat, Arthur, stay, stay and make it your home.

Eventually, the bar had emptied. The acts had ran their course and people were left dancing to nothing in the space between the tables, with just drink and lingering-energy to keep them upright.

‘Let’s go back,’ you said to him, when you were slouched in your chair with his arm over your shoulder. ‘I can’t stand another thing.’ The room was spinning, swaying, dipping in and out of your head like you were a buoy and he was the tether beneath the waves.

He nodded, his reaction lagged slightly. His fingertips ran up and down your arm. A rake through the leaves, a farmer laying tracks. ‘My head’s in the fuckin’ bin,’ he said.

‘It’s not.’ You turned and put your palms to his cheeks; it would have been sweet if you weren’t so clumsy, so counter-balanced by the gin in your system. ‘Your head’s right here on your lovely shoulders.’

‘Like your book,’ he slurred.

‘What?’

‘You’re gonna say it, you used to.’

‘Say what, Arthur?’

His brows pulled together. ‘The thing,’ he rambled, ‘about your books. Bout me.’

‘You remember that?’

‘Why would I fuckin’ forget, ay?’ He leant away slightly, drifting like the tide, before coming back. Closer. His skin ran hot under your hands. ‘Nicest thing anyone ever told me,’ he said.

And you loved that, and your heart grew so tight in your chest that it might’ve broken free, might’ve pushed through the alcohol, and the ribs, the flesh, so tight that he should’ve felt it; because he was close enough, because he leant forward and you didn’t stop him. You just held his face, his gaze, and he was so warm and so him, that you kissed him.

You kissed him, you kissed him.

His moustache was rough, scratching. His hands dug into your waist like he was pawing for air, like he wanted more of you and you were willing, so willing to give it. When you came away to breathe, he chased you, stupid grin on lips that you had finally tasted. They were sweet. It was alcohol and cigars, and not an ounce of bitterness, not a drop of anything other than him, him just to the core, him and his lips and his breath and his tongue pushing through to meet yours. Christ, Arthur. Christ, you thought, that’s it then. That’s what it’s like.

‘Wanted to do that forever,’ he said, dripping the words down your chin. He pulled back enough to look at you and then kissed you again like he’d left it behind. ‘Took us bloody long enough,’ you thought, but he said it at the same time, words from your head and into his mouth in the same second.  

‘I know,’ you agreed. You were panting so heavily it didn’t even feel like breathing, it felt like storms, like curled winds rutting against each other. ‘Why didn’t we…?’ You couldn’t finish the sentence. Your hands clung to the back of his neck like you were falling. ‘Kiss me again,’ you said, ‘please.’

He did. He kissed you there, in the club, and again in the car on the way to the hotel. In the lift, in the hallway by your room. He kissed and kissed and kissed, and you thought for one, hopeless moment, that maybe you were dreaming, maybe you were asleep in your bed at home, but then he said, ‘I feel like I’ve won the fuckin’ derby,’ against your neck and you laughed so stupidly that it made him pause.

‘What?’ he asked, frowning and smiling at the same time. ‘What’s funny?’

He was over you on the bed, the front of his hair flopping down to cover his brow. You, you thought, you with your hair and your muscles and your lips on my throat like I’m edible.

‘Nothing, nothing.’ You’d gotten drunker somehow. He was more lethal than the cocktails, more dizzying. ‘Can we just,’ you stuttered, ‘just, I don’t know.’ You laughed, and sighed, and then dropped your palms, limp, from his back onto the mattress. ‘I think I’m going crazy from all this kissing. I feel like a kid.’

He barked a laugh, grin mirroring your own, and then rolled off you like he agreed. He fell onto the bed beside you, bouncing it with a groan. ‘Who needs fuckin’ snow, when you can have this,’ he said, chest puffed. Boasted upwards like the ceiling was taunting him. He glanced at you once, then again, and then sighed with a quiet, ‘Fuck me.’

‘I don’t think I can,’ you joked. You could barely handle the kissing.

‘Ey?’

‘What?’ He’d heard you well enough. You flashed him a smile that should’ve been coy but felt wild instead, unmanageable. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ you lied.

‘Is that right?’ He was nearly smiling himself. His gaze fell to your lips before the thing could set. ‘C’mere,’ he said.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ you insisted. ‘I’m having a breather.’

He laughed again and shook his head in the fond way. He was back to looking at the light fitting when he spoke again. ‘Y’know,’ he started, ‘I thought I’d missed it with you, thought I’d let it all slip away between my fuckin’ fingers.’

You’d thought the same, you’d just never acknowledged it. You set your eyes on his profile, on the angle of his nose against the light from the window. Without the gas-lamp outside, he’d be invisible, lost in the dark. You don’t even know what time it was.

‘Everyone knew it would happen,’ you mused. ‘We’re the last to realise, I think.’

It seemed stupid now, utterly ridiculous that you would be anything other than this. The line between you had been crossed, no not crossed, it had been shattered entirely, torn up and thrown in the Thames. You didn’t ever want to be just friends again. There was no reason to draw the line back to where it had been.

‘Not everyone,’ he muttered, voice dropping slightly. ‘Tom couldn’t work you out. Think he thought you was after money, or something. Not,’ his hand lifted, gesturing in circles to the air above him, ‘y’know, not this.’

‘Tommy knew,�� you said, before sense had caught up to your liquored words. ‘He asked me if I wanted you or him.’

‘What?’ His voice soured sharply. ‘He what?’

You’d done it, you’d ruined it. ‘Don’t worry,’ you told him quickly, ‘it wasn’t serious.’

He sat upright, turning and blocking the amber glow from the window. ‘What did he fuckin’ say?’ You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t make out his expression, but the words were hard, pointed. He spat them out, crystal clear through the haze. ‘Ay? The fuck was that?’

‘Arthur, it was just—‘

‘You tell me, tell me now.’

You scrambled into a sitting position. ‘It was just that, just some stupid mind game to see…’ To see what? You’d never even decided yourself. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up, alright? I’m drunk, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Matters to me,’ he bit back. Then he sank slightly. Less angry, more hurt. You pulled toward him, shifting onto your knees to meet him in the middle, to tug at his shirt like you were lamenting.

‘Arthur, baby,’ you said, and his head picked up at that, lifted with the endearment. ‘It’s just what he’s like.’

He grumbled. ‘No fuckin’ excuse.’

‘I know. I know.’ You climbed your palms up his chest until they were on his neck, your thumbs rubbing circles into the stubble beneath his chin. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed,’ you started, tone serious but as light as you could allow, ‘but, well, he’s a prick, Arthur. He just says shit and leaves the rest of us to deal with it.’

His hands stilled your wrists. You just about made his iris’s out in the dark. ‘What did he say?’ he asked slowly, his words firm enough that you couldn’t bat it away like before.

You sighed. It didn’t matter, it really didn’t matter. After the night you’d had it was almost laughable to think about; if you could go back in time, you’d tell Tommy outright how stupid he was to even suggest it. ‘He asked if I was serious about you,’ you offered Arthur, ‘and I told him yes.’

He twitched his head to the side. ‘Don’t lie to me.’

‘I’m not.’ It wasn’t fully the truth, but it wasn’t so far from it that you felt guilty. ‘He asked, very rudely, if I was ever going to sleep with you.’

‘You said—‘

‘Arthur,’ you interrupted, snapping at him. ‘Why does it matter what he said, when my answer was yes? That I chose you?’

And you always had; you always would.

‘Let Tommy play his little games,’ you continued. ‘You have me.’

He groaned; the noise slipped out of him, strung out of his mouth like the whine of an injured animal. ‘I’m getting sick of hearing his fuckin’ name,’ he said, and you knew he meant from you, from your lips. It came out and sat between the two of you like chainlink. ‘I never know what to bloody think.’

You laughed dryly. ‘That makes two of us.’ You touched his face, brushed his cheek, felt the line of his moustache. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil this.’

‘You haven’t.’

‘I feel like I have.’

With a sigh, his arms wound up around you, bringing you close and onto his lap once you’d pulled your legs through. ‘So, I have you, eh?’ he asked gently, close enough that you almost felt the rumble of it in your chest. ‘You’re all mine?’ He held you like a prize, inspected you like he did with everything he loves; noted the details like he would before, when he drew horses, and people, and everything else that he thought was beautiful. 'Isn’t that something,’ he commented. Quiet, just to himself.

You toyed with his collar. ‘Didn’t you know that already?’

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he kissed you roughly, like he was suddenly desperate for it, and the pair of you melted backwards into the sheets. His hands were on your neck,  then along your ribcage and down, down, smoothing down until they hit the soft dip of your waist, the curve of your hips. He squeezed you there, pushed you flat, held his thumbs to your hipbones tight enough to pinch the skin.

‘Can we?’ you asked, surprised that it came out so steadily. So calmly. You twisted your hand into the top of his hair and watched his gaze lift, scorching into your own.

‘You want to?’

You nodded, humming. You had never imagined you could, never imagined you actually would, but now it seemed easy. Natural. You let a smile fall into place. ‘But,’ you teased, not meaning it in the slightest, ‘I might change my mind if you keep me waiting any longer.’

He didn’t hesitate; he met your lips again, hungrily, careless in a way he wasn’t before. His hands went into your hair and then it was your turn to drop, to explore.

You ran your fingertips along the line of buttons down his chest, pulled them apart and away from each other slowly, like you had the time. Because it was London, because it was the two of you, and nothing else, and time had been left back in Birmingham with the smog. His shirt fell open; you dragged your nails down his ribs, his stomach, over the straight hair that scattered from his navel. When your hands found the fastening of his trousers, he pulled back to pant against your neck.

His lips went against the skin clumsily, dragging heat and lust over the goosebumps. ‘I want you,’ he said between breaths, ‘so bad.’

‘I know.’

‘But.’

You undid the fastening, slipped a hand between the cotton.

‘But,’ he rasped again, stilling you, ‘I don’t think I can, love.’

‘What?’ You pulled your hand back. His head dropped until his hair brushed your collarbone, his chest heaving into yours. ‘What’s wrong?’ you asked.

‘Been a long day,’ he said, pushing the words into the space between your breasts. ‘I’ve drank a lot.’ He kissed your shoulder, your earlobe, then pulled back to face you remorsefully. ‘I don’t think I can,’ he grumbled. He looked between you, down at himself, and then back to explain. ‘It won’t, you know, well.’

‘Oh.’ The meaning clicked and you felt yourself melt with relief. It wasn’t you, then. Wasn’t serious. He was sweeter every day, every moment. If you told anyone about the Arthur you knew, the one straddling you with shame printed onto his features, they wouldn’t believe you. They’d say you had the wrong man entirely. ‘It’s fine,’ you told him earnestly. ‘Don’t worry. It’s okay, we can just sleep, Arthur, really.’

He smiled and brought your hand up to kiss the palm. ‘Too good to me,’ he said.

‘No one’s too good to anyone,’ you said back.

‘Here.’ He dropped your hand again, pulling close to kiss beneath your jaw. ‘Just cause I can’t,’ he whispered, ‘doesn’t mean…’

‘Arthur.’

His lips dripped down your neck, your chest. His face lost itself in the fabric of your dress as he bunched the skirt up and out of the way. You felt your breath flush once, twice, three times out your mouth as he rolled the wool of your tights to your knees, his hands firm and certain. Positive of their mission. Your cheeks grew hot, firecrackers snapping across your skin, down your legs. Lighting in your blood like he’d timed it all. He was saying things into you, against the silk, his voice low and rough, but you could hardly hear him through the thumping in your ears.

‘Arthur,’ you breathed, sounding as desperate as you felt, ‘you don’t have to.’

His nails caught the skin on your hips as he tugged your underwear down and then you stopped lying to him, you stopped acting like you didn’t want it. Your hips lifted to meet his mouth, but he pushed them back, held them down. You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, squeezed them shut as his moustache brushed the inner portion of your thighs, as his hands put your legs flat to the bed.

‘Let me take care of you,’ he said, or you thought he did, because it had all begun to swirl into one roar of noise, one rush of heat and feeling from your head, through your heart. It flooded you and it was him, all him. He had possessed you. Taken your brain and turned it to mush.

You pulled the sheets into your fists and let him unwind you, let him pull you apart.

Arthur, you moaned, Arthur, you thought, Arthur. Arthur.

Read part 9 >>>

____

taglist: @peaky-arthur @theshelbyclan @woeisbutwoe @random-stupid-stuffs @murderousginger @sanktaalinaa @the-panda-man-stole-my-soul @inceptenet @isaiahdurag

[genuflectx]

Just wanna rant about my job a bit, will probably delete this later. But I think I may quit my job within the next month or so u_u’

Originally when I joined this job last year it was under originations- I helped people apply and get approved for loans, or offered general tech support when they needed help with the process online. I felt like I was helping these nice old people, they were rarely mean (save for the occasional grouchy old man after he gets rejected), and the work load was decent. Not too heavy, not too boring. 

Then the pandemic hit. My entire team, which had been hired only a few months before, were rushed in for “accelerated training” on the credit card support department. I believe it was just like 4 weeks of training for a tooootally different workflow. We worked in the servicing department for what, maybe a month? Then they furloughed a ton of people and managers and moved us AGAIN, this time to collections. So calling to collect debts on our credit card product. When I joined this company it was under the understanding I did NOT want to do collections because it makes me sad and feel shitty. But they promised us we would be transferred back to originations after a bit, so whatever.

Slowly things have gone downhill since. Just tiny things adding up. They implemented a internet speed minimum requirement, which is understandable working from home, but we lost another good chunk of people who got fired for that, some who I’d made friends with. Hell, I got THREATENED with firing due to this, forcing us to run an Ethernet cable through 2 stories of our house. And I was PISSED because I was the only one on the team making a 100% average on QA scores. Then a few people quit, leaving only 3 people from my original originations team. They hired a new manager to oversee work force management (WFM) and quality assurance (QA) around this point and I’m CONVINCED it got worse because of her changes...

They changed our outbound dialing system to a cheaper one, promising all these improvements, and who woulda guessed... the quality of work life barely improved with this piece of crap tech but hey, it cut costs. Next they dismantled the debt management company department (DMC) and trained us in it so we’re technically trained for and work in two departments. On top of the promise that in the far future that they will cross-train us with the loan department too, a totally different product. We also have to do the emails for our department as well.

Then things got bad. Non stop calls for a months. Likely related to the unfortunate weather disasters in our outsourced locations. The outbound dialer, which is an autodialer that WFM loads up with late people to auto-call, starting filling up with impossible amounts of people to call for our agent count. We started going from 5000 to call every few hours to 10,000. And it doesn’t matter if we don’t clear the queue, they will load more in at certain times of the day. So we’d get 10,000 at 1pm, we’d get it down to 3,000 by 5pm, and they’d just load it back up to 10,000 again. 

Then they added on the mandatory overtime. Everyone in our department either has to do a half shift extra on either saturday or sunday- with mine being on saturday. Another person quit (down to 2 from my original team). We’re understaffed as hell and they tell us that they’re FINALLY training a new class. And know what? They ONLY enacted the OT and got a new class because their service levels were down. Service levels are a mandatory legal level of how many agents per how many customers we have, they get in legal trouble when it drops too far for too long. They didn’t give a shit about our stress until their damn legal agreement dropped and then forced the OT on us. Wow. We feel so appreciated. 

And THEN the OT was supposed to go until Feb 14th- today. THEY EXTENDED IT ANOTHER WEEK. 

And and and a few days after they told us it was extended these dudes LAY OFF 3 managers, including our team’s manager, who I REALLY liked, and stuck us into the team of a manager who is notorious for giving out incorrect policy info! Why! >:( 

Some other small things they’ve done that have added up slowly: They sent me a “nice” alluminum mug for my high QA score. Stuck it in the washer once and the pretty gold lettering on the front melted. It also leaks. They do these “thank you” videos some time where the upper management (never faces you recognize save for 2 or 3). BUT they made us watch this 10 minute long “thank you” Christmas video BETWEEN CALLS instead of scheduling time for us to do it like usual. Due to the short staffing, they changed how our weekly meetings with our manager/team go. Instead of having the whole team go into a meeting with her twice per week, they made her split this into 3 smaller meetings once per week, so that 2 or 3 team members meet with her at a time (more people on the floor to take calls). It spread her thin- before they laid her off of course. After they enacted the OT a week or so into it one of the upper management people sent us all an email telling us we basically weren’t doing good enough because our collections numbers weren’t high enough.. KNOWING we’re under staffed, she still emailed that. Come on.

So ya know what? My fiance and friends have encouraged me to just move on. This company isn’t what it was when I started a year ago, and idk if it’s legit just due to covid or if this WFM/QA overseer that they hired near the end of 2020 is fully to blame. I hate hearing customers tell me day in day out about their family dying, about being homeless/evicted. I hate old ladies screaming at me because they can’t comprehend that WE ARE IN A PANDEMIC and the MAIL WILL BE LATE, so their damn paper checks need to be mailed out at least 2-3 weeks in advanced- OR THEY COULD JUST CALL AND PAY LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. Tired of people insulting me and calling me names because THEY’RE late and THEY missed a payment and they can’t accept responsibility- because they think screaming at someone making a few bucks over min wage will do anyone any good or make their shitty credit score any better.

All this mandatory OT and my nice manager being fired has put a lot of stress on me, if the other crap wasn’t enough. We’re really financially stable in this household even if I did quit, even if I’d feel guilty af. And it could be months before I found another job as safe and well-paying as this one, but at least my mental health would recover.

So I have about a day of sick time and 80 hours of PTO. My plan is to hopefully schedule out all 80 hours, or at least 85% of my PTO if I can, then when I come back to put in a 1 week notice. By then the new agents will be in full swing. I can get the money from the PTO I earned at this shit collections job and then try and move on to bigger and better things. And in the mean time while looking, I can work on art/writing and I can also possibly get a new car with all the money we’ve saved up. My mama and granny might end up disapproving and judge me but 2020 was such a shit year and I’m tired of this. I feel like this job is taking advantage of us and legit just doesn’t give a crap about their employees.

Okay! Well that’s outta my system! Bleck

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

COVID cases skyrocket in Brazil with no vaccination start date

State governments begin to suspend Christmas and New Year’s events as COVID-19 hospitalisations increase.

Rafael da Silva, 56, a hospital security guard, had been battling with COVID-19 symptoms for just more than a week when they began to intensify. But when his family rushed him to hospital, he was sent home.

“All the doctor did was offer him treatment as if it were a cold,” his son, Rafael da Silva Jr told Al Jazeera.

After deteriorating for four days, he was again taken to a COVID-19 hospital with shortness of breath and put on oxygen. The doctors said da Silva Sr should be on a ventilator.

“But there are no intensive care beds left,” his son said. “They are trying to find a bed in the only field hospital in the city but they’re all full.”

Da Silva is one of the hundreds of patients in Rio de Janeiro in desperate need of an intensive care bed as health officials warn the medical system is on the verge of collapse.

Long queues for intensive care beds are forming outside public healthcare systems across Rio de Janeiro with wait times of more than 15 days for some COVID-19 patients.

Even in the private healthcare centres, 98 percent of the COVID-19 intensive care beds had been occupied for two consecutive weeks, said the Association of Private Hospitals of Rio state. The number jumped from 81 percent to 98 percent during the first week of December.

Continue reading.

[carryonuptheandes]

30 November – Lima

After my quick stopover in Lima a week earlier, it was time to return and explore the capital. The four hour journey was made by Cruz del Sur, widely regarded as one of the best (aka safe and secure) Peruvian coach operators. It comes with luggage check-in at the terminal, a huge display of passenger T&C's, seatbelt fastened checks, the offer of blankets, cushions and headphones, and speed displays in the passenger areas. Passengers are encouraged to complain to the company or government if the driver exceeds 90kph (56mph) but I get the impression that little take any notice, certainly the case when we overtook some HGVs and a poor car driver heading towards us was shouting abuse at the driver while almost being forced off the road. The service also came with a meal (beef, chicken or veggie were my options), which may not be such a selling point since I had my first dodgy Peruvian stomach during my days in Lima (as was the case in La Paz, but at least this time without also the altitude effect).

The journey was pretty dull along the dusty rocky coastal Panamerican Highway, intersected with ugly towns and beach resorts. We arrived into Lima during Friday evening (and monthly pay day) rush hour; the contrast with Paracas couldn’t have been much more pronounced! Two and a half hours before I’d arranged to meet a guy for dinner, I took a taxi for the 10km to where I’d left my main rucsac (where my 20USD note was rejected for not being crisp enough!) where I would spend another night. It took so long that I got the driver to wait 10 minutes and take me onto Miraflores, 13km back towards the centre, where I only just arrived on time. So an average taxi speed of 12kph (7mph), but probably not a bad thing with the not so young (and long sighted) driver, while driving in the chaos, attempting to navigate on his mobile and receive and make calls, mainly unsuccessfully!

Saturday morning saw me relocate to a shared apartment in Miraflores, a much more central area for exploring the more attractive (and safer) parts of the city. While Miraflores, with areas equivalent to Chelsea in London, wasn’t always my scene, the location and 24/7 safety made it attractive. From there I could walk to Barranco (a more down at heels but increasingly gentrified and arty neighbourhood) and the seafront, and I was near the Metropolitano express busway to the historic city centre. With the quantity of beauty clinics, dental surgeries, smart vets, delis, and Chelsea tractors, it was quite a contrast to the Peru I had seen until now.

Decent fast public transport is very valuable in this city of transport chaos, where road widening is still seen as the solution, as more and more people own cars. I was happy though to see brave cyclists in this part of the city, using the fairly recently constructed cycle lanes or tracks, and a Boris bikes type system ready to be launched in a few days. I put my transport planning ideals first when crossing the roads, raising my hand to request the drivers to stop while I braved the zebra crossings. However, at signalised junctions, drivers would stop very promptly as the lights turned to red. In addition to providing plenty of dropped kerbs and facilities for cyclists, Miraflores seems keen to challenge the norm with it’s 'Hands off the horn!' signs!

I was lucky enough to have a few contacts in Lima, with some of whom I enjoyed guided walks of areas of the city including Miraflores, Barranco and the historic city centre. I came across the statue of 'deepest darkest Peruvian' Paddington unveiled by the mayors of Miraflores and the City of London in 2015. I visited the incredible Huaca Pucllana bizarrely sandwiched between the modern Miraflores streets. Built around 500AD it was the administrative and ceremonial centre of Lima society. Built of staggered layers of clay 'bricks' it contains a pyramid and much of the site is still being uncovered.

I visited the Miraflores lighthouse (relocated from over 1,000km south in the early 70s) and the Parque de Amor with it’s saucy sculpture surrounded by Gaudí style walls. In a nearby park to where I was staying, I was to come across the old Miraflores railway station, complete with old steam engine and carriage, which used to provide a link to Barranco and Chorrillos. I also got to enjoy a night time fountain show, full of colour, music and clichés as some typical Peruvian images were projected onto the water sprays. The park had a rainbow and teapot and cups fountain waiting for me. Finally, I made a couple of wishes on the Barranco Bridge of Sighs before having to cross it without breathing!

The strolls were combined with a guided cycling tour to the more salubrious fishing neighbourhood of Chorrillos, where we climbed a hill to reach the huge cross (erected for a visit of the Pope) and enjoy the spectacular views of the city. It was good to sample some of the cycling infrastructure (always a need to check that cars will stop at cycle crossings!), including the somewhat narrow cycle track along the seafront! I was incredibly lucky with the weather since it’s normally cloudy/misty in the mornings (in fact, during much of the year Lima remains cloudy every day, however unlike in the UK, it receives virtually no rain. This was evident with the amount of watering of gardens taking place).

Since I was the only person registered I enjoyed effectively a private tour, which meant I had more opportunity to chat with my guide, one of the many Venezuelans now in the city, and get his perspective on the dire situation in his country. He has lost all hope that it will improve, other than via international intervention; actually I spotted on the news while in Lima that Maduro has been hanging out with Putin. He has three brothers or sisters back home, all desperate to escape too. I of course expressed my frustration and sadness with the B word in UK, where 'democracy' also has it’s damaging consequences.

I enjoyed a 10km ride on the Metropolitano express busway to the historic city centre, on which a constant flow of stopping and limited stop express routes sail past the queueing traffic. The city certainly could do with more of these, to supplement the single metro line. The city centre is a fascinating place, some streets very down at heel, but plenty of evidence of a grand city in the past with its eclectic mix of colonial, renaissance, art deco and brutalist, many buildings now neglected and with upper floors abandoned. I also took a wonder (with a local, thankfully) through the bustling crazy market area, where my focus was on keeping hold of my belongings as I had to keep clear of the bulky newly purchased items being carted or carried down the busy streets. The shops and street traders were bursting with Christmas items, while the huge Plaza de Armas was decorated with it’s tall (manmade) tree, Rudolph and sleigh, and other festive favourites.

I also got to see the huge and impressive Palacio de los Congresos, where the parliament takes decisions on the future of the country. Then there was the Presidential Palace, a somewhat topical building at the moment with the daily news updates on the prosecution of past presidents for corruption; unbelievably (or maybe not!) the last four consecutive presidents of Peru are either in prison or awaiting the completion of trials, with one very recently seeking asylum in Uruguay, which their government turned down.

On my last day I finally made it into the Pacific for a refreshing dip; people had warned me that it’s cold but they know little about my lido-proofing! Anyway, it was warmer than the English Riviera sea in late summer. I however wasn’t entirely convinced by the cleanliness of the water! Thanks to having a tall cliff above the beach and a fast multi-lane expressway (Circuito de Playas or Beach Circuit)) between the cliff and the sea, the beach is not easy to get to! There are, over nearly 10km, just a handful of designated points for pedestrians to access the beach. These are mainly busy congested polluted main roads. After the challenge of getting across the ten lanes of the Circuito de Playas racetrack, we made it to beach, where I launched myself down the steep beach of stones and into the water, as the waves pounded the shore and dragged the stones noisily backwards and forwards. Getting out was just as much a challenge, I seemed to succeed in timing it well between the worst of powerful waves.

[thehoneygloss]

you’ll always be my best memory

sometimes the act of falling doesn't hurt as much as letting go

word count: 5.5k

pairing: yoongi x jimin

genre: angst, fluff

author’s note: pianist yoongi au is what i live for. so this is that. along with a fanboy jimin au (not really an au, cause he's probably yoongi's biggest fan). also, it's kinda fluffy but also very angsty, i suggest to read this all in one go for that 'effect'. anyways, enjoy.

December, 2015

Lang Leav once wrote a poem about loving someone who’s miles and miles away, it is short of metaphors and words in general. It was rather simple, actually, and was not composed of long paragraphs and overused similes. But in it, Jimin happens to find reassurance. ‘Physicality is an expression of intimacy — not the indication of it.’ Jimin has spent his whole teenage years thinking that physicality indicates the sincerity of love that someone has for another. The million dollar question (if Jimin has even half the amount of money lying around, he actually might offer that much, but he’s a university student — one who’s part time job consists of organizing books in the university library): so which is correct? Doesn’t the presence of a loved one supposed to affect you more than of a stranger’s? Honestly speaking, that is indeed true. Their presence should affect you more than anyone else’s, looking at them right in the eye’s supposed to make those butterflies in your stomach a swirl, it’s supposed to make your eyes light up, brighter than usual. However, their absence shouldn’t affect the love you have for that person. Jimin thinks he’s got it, for the first time, he doesn’t argue with this uneasy feeling he’s been feeling lately. Just like how he doesn’t argue with Taehyung everytime Taehyung brings someone home after his usual round of drinks and freshman get-togethers (he’s not even supposed to be there, Taehyung’s a junior for heaven’s sake) but Jimin has never been one to argue. It’s just things that has to do with unnecessary feelings that he likes to argue again and again, as if it were for a thesis. Hell, you could give him a yellow sweater for Christmas and he wouldn’t even complain (he hates yellow). ‘Why are you even here at this hour?’ is the first thing Jimin says as soon as he sees Taehyung walking into their shared flat. Taehyung’s eyes are red and he hasn’t changed his clothes since the last time Jimin saw him. ‘I had to finish this damned assignment in the library all night,’ Taehyung replies as he kicks his shoes off and plops on the bed across from Jimin’s. ‘Alone?’ ‘Jungkook was there.’ It takes Taehyung ten seconds to muster up the courage to say it, he hasn’t said that name in months, even the mere sound of Jungkook’s name rolling down his lips feels foreign. ‘Oh,’ Jimin looks at Taehyung, for the first time in weeks (they’ve been busy with their own things, their own problems) and instead of looking like he’s been in war for ten years straight, Taehyung looks rather fine. Besides his blood shot eyes and messy hair, Taehyung doesn’t look like he might cry at the mention of Jungkooks’ name.

Although Jimin is completely aware that sometimes, hurting goes beyond what the eyes can see, for the first time in months, Taehyung seems fine.

‘How was it? Did you guys sort things over or?’ Jimin continues, though very cautiously. He learned that the last time he asked Taehyung about his relationship, only to be replied with an overly intoxicated Taehyung shouting at Jimin at the top of his lungs. Never again, Jimin thinks, except maybe, well, now.

‘Not exactly. But he said ‘hi’ first and asked me if I wanted to help him with the pictures for the recital program book,’ Taehyung’s looking at every corner of the room except at Jimin. It’s strange, Taehyung thinks, how easily feelings change.

‘Did you say yes?’ Jimin knows he did, after all, he’s known Taehyung for almost ten years, he’s practically his brother. And Taehyung will agree to this, at times, Jimin knows him more than he even knows himself. That goes a long way.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows, as if telling Jimin that yes, he did say yes. After all, as seasons change, so do feelings.

The rest of the afternoon is quiet; after the jarring conversation, Taehyung immediately dozes off to dreamland, leaving Jimin alone by the computer on the chair his ass has been spending most of the days on, working on that damn thesis . As if it’s a cue for Jimin, a sign from the heavens, a notification pops up on his phone, a text from Hoseok, his senior in his cognitive psychology class, in full caps lock.

MIN YOONGI’S GOING TO BECOME A GUEST PERFORMER IN THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT’S END-OF-YEAR RECITAL  

Jimin doesn’t believe him, the idea seems too far-fetched, even for Hoseok. Could it really be him? The Min Yoongi that Jimin swears for his life has been a fan of ever since he debuted alongside a ballad singer. For the first time in months, Jimin wakes Taehyung up from his deep slumber.

‘Dude, you’re not going to believe it,’ he shakes Taehyung’s shoulders, trying to transfer all of his excitement on to Taehyung’s indifferent expression.

‘Shut up, I’m trying to sleep,’ is all Taehyung says as he moves his body further away to the opposite edge of his bed while at the same time shoving Jimin’s chair away.

‘Min Yoongi’s performing in your boyfriend’s end-of-year recital,’ Jimin throws Taehyung off the best way he can while at the same time proving to him that, yes, there is a chance for Jimin to finally meet the man he’s been dying to see live. To finally see him play. And the best part? For free. He just has to convince Taehyung to convince Jungkook to convince Junho, the head committee of this year’s music recital to give him a ticket. Simple.

‘He’s not my boyfriend anymore,’ Taehyung says softly, looking straight ahead at Jimin, ‘but I’ll try to ask, happy? Now let me sleep.’

Jimin doesn’t feel like taking a nap, not anymore, because for the first time in his life, he finally has a chance to see his idol live, someone he’s been looking up to for years, the person who taught him that even though he doesn’t have the passion to play, just listening to the sound of Yoongi’s music on the ivory keys makes his heart happier than usual.

Jimin doesn’t realize it’s almost 8 pm until he hears Taehyung across the room from him practicing his lines for his photography presentation tomorrow morning. He decides to not bother Taehyung, he really needs more practice and Jimin really needs food.

The walk to the campus cafe is quiet, deadlines are coming up, people are too busy to simply eat — but Jimin’s been there and he knows all too well that not eating will only be the death of him.

As soon as he reaches the cafe, he is greeted with the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg and a long queue of people waiting to get some food in their system. That’s Taehyung’s hoodie, Jimin realizes, it’s Jungkook in front of him with his music folder in his right hand and a guitar on his left.

‘Jungkook?’ Jimin taps his back, this is my only chance, he thinks.

‘Ah, hyung!’ Jungkook replies as he turns his back facing Jimin. Jungkook looks different, his hair isn’t as long anymore - now nicely cut. He looks much more taken care of since the last time Jimin met him and that was two months ago.

‘You good?’ contrary to popular beliefs, Jimin and Jungkook has never had anything going on between them. They were close, yes, but in a way that was more suitable to be called siblings rather than lovers.

Jungkook stops for a second, then says, ‘Never been better.’ It’s as if he’s trying to tell Jimin that him and Taehyung are working things out, don’t worry.

For the first time, Jimin believes it.

‘Good. That’s good. By the way,’ Jimin continues, contemplating if he even has the right to say, but he says it anyway, ‘I heard Min Yoongi’s the guest star of the music department’s end of year recital.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook knows how passionate Jimin is when it comes to a certain pianist.

‘So, um, this might sound weird but,’

‘You want an extra ticket? Taehyungie-hyung texted me,’ Jimin’s eyes lights up, half-glad that he doesn’t have to continue his already seemingly frivolous sentence and half-astonished that Taehyung cares to even inform Jungkook of the situation.

‘Look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I can go ask someone else to ask Junho.’ Jimin is lying. He has no one else to ask, he’s never had the chance to befriend a music student, always too preoccupied with analyzing people in general.

‘I’m the assistant of the head committee for the recital, I can get you one easily, it’s fine,’ Jungkook says, giving Jimin a reassuring smile.

‘You are? That’s amazing, thank you, a thousand times, thank you,’ Jimin hugs Jungkook tightly, Taehyung got himself a really good one this time around, he thinks.

‘Anytime, hyung,’ Jungkook replies as he rushes to the counter to order his food.

As soon as Jimin walks into his shared flat, he sees Taehyung and gives him a genuine smile, thanking him for the simple act he’s done today. Taehyung doesn’t know this, but in that moment (and his whole life) Jimin’s very thankful to have a bestfriend like him.

The day of the recital comes sooner than Jimin thought. Two weeks isn’t long enough to prepare for this occasion, but he doesn’t want to wait either. He bought a new outfit a week ago, a crisp white shirt and black pants, stating the obvious: he wants to look good in front of the great pianist. But Jimin won’t admit that, using the ‘it’s a recital, I gotta look nice’ excuse, which in Jimin’s defense, isn’t wrong either.

The hall is more crowded than usual, the last time Jimin was here, he was in the committee of the freshman’s honor programme. He sees Taehyung and walks over to him trying to get the best seat possible. Second row, right in the middle, perfect, Jimin thinks.

‘Before we begin, I’d like to remind you that students placed at the end of the recital program have worked just as hard to prepare their performances as have students placed at the start. I would ask that you remain until the end of the program to ensure that all of these wonderful students experience the supportive and full audience that they deserve. And now we’re ready to begin!’ Junho, who looks ravishing and significantly different from how he usually dresses, announces as the light starts to dim. Tonight will surely be something.

‘Apparently, Min Yoongi’s performing two songs,’ Jimin hears Taehyung whisper to him, giving a slight nod of reassurance.

Jimin nods as a reply.

Min Yoongi is performing last, much like the final bow, the grand gesture. Jimin fiddles with the program book in his hand, trying to contain every bit of excitement in him.

‘Thank you students, parents, and other guests. As our closing, we will have Min Yoongi, one of South Korea’s greatest pianist to perform two of his songs from his newly released album, Things That Withers and Things That Blossoms. Give a warm welcome to the star of tonight’s show, Min Yoongi!’

As the light dims down, walks in Min Yoongi in all his glory, dressed simply in a black suit with his black hair slightly messy, he’s breathtaking, in an almost clean-cut and slightly intimidating kind of way. Although, with those almond shaped eyes and a cute button nose, he looks slightly less brooding. Yet his aura and charisma says otherwise, in short, Jimin is taken aback. Both with his beauty and the way he presents himself on stage.

‘Hello, I’m Min Yoongi. Now, before I start playing, let me give you a very brief introduction to my newest album. I’m very aware that a lot of people in this crowd don’t really care for it, but I’m sure some of you might want to know since I’ve received a few requests on my social media page last night regarding a short commentary before I start playing, so here it is.’ He pauses for a moment, as if trying to find someone in the crowd and fails in doing so, Jimin notices this and looks around the room. But nobody is looking at Yoongi with the kind of familiarity someone should.

‘So, my new album, Things That Withers and Things That Blossoms is loosely based on life experiences of people that I know and of course from my own,’ he stops midway and looks at the crowd, this time, he’s not looking for anyone, then continues, ‘when I was in university, as a music student, I never got time to really take care of myself, I’m sure a lot of people in the room might relate to this,’ the crowd gives a faint chuckle, ‘and that led to me never really getting into relationships. And that went on to senior year until I met someone, who at first glance, might not look like someone who’d date a measly music student. But we dated, and for a long time. But things led to other things, and he went away, I can’t really call it ‘our separate ways’ because I never really went ... away.’

Jimin exhales deeply, taken off guard by how vulnerable he is on stage, how easy it is for him to strip himself naked emotionally and show the crowd his personal stories, ‘For a long time, I was very much overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do and what to say, because quite frankly, that person pretty much took care of me. But I had to grow up and graduation was around the corner at that time and I couldn’t slack off. So I went along and pretty much numbed myself of the unfamiliar feeling I had. So I guess I never really took time to heal. And that is for me, very important. You have to let yourself heal. Anyways, a few years after, we met again. This time, that person was married, we met at the grocery store and he was with two of his children and his wife. I mean, I couldn’t really say anything so I just greeted them, went to my apartment and immediately wrote this song. It’s called ‘When I Knew I Still Loved You’.’

Jimin’s eyes are teary as he looks at Taehyung who’s too busy whispering to Jungkook, talking about god knows what. Then Yoongi starts playing, the song is soft and almost, in a way, sounds nostalgic. The kind of sound you’d hear in your head if you saw an old love walking past you in the street, the kind of sound you’d hear if you came to your ex's wedding with the scars still fresh, it was melancholic.

‘A few months after, believe it or not, I met that person again. This time, it was at a party. You’d think at this point that we’re just an over-complexified version of soulmates but … he looked really happy? And I couldn’t dare to ruin that for him, for his wife, and for his children. So I just sat there, two tables away, and I thought to myself, ‘just because it ended, doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful.’ I think love can be manifested into different kinds of love’. So I wrote this song, and it’s called, ‘When You Don’t Make Me Smile Anymore.’

As Min Yoongi  starts playing, Jimin notices the different tones of this song. It’s much livelier, soothing and almost reassuring; the kind of music you’d hear if you’re trying to heal. The kind of music you’d want to listen to if you’re trying to put all your bones back together. And again, it is beautiful, Jimin thinks.

As he presses the last ivory key on the piano, the crowd cheers, the light turns on and he bows. Jimin fixes himself on his seat, mouth slightly ajar with Taehyung chuckling next to him.

‘Hyung,’ Jungkook goes near Jimin and whispers to him over Taehyung.

‘Yeah?’

‘You want to go backstage?’

Jimin pauses, not knowing what to say. ‘You sure? wait, why?’

‘Because you’re a fan? We asked him if he was willing for a personal meet up and he said yes, so, um, just go meet Junho and he’ll lead you to the waiting room he’s at,’ is all Jungkook says as he focuses his attention back to Taehyung who at this point is too busy taking pictures of the recital guests.

Jimin walks to the waiting room with Junho by his side telling him to liven up, after all, he’s been waiting for this moment since his senior year in high school. As he reaches the waiting room door with Min Yoongi’s name plastered on, Jimin halts. He doesn’t like the way he’s feeling - the uncertainty of how Yoongi will act without cameras around scares the shit out of him.

Then Junho knocks.

‘Come in,’ is the only sound that comes out from the other side of the door.

Min Yoongi is sitting alone, on the farthest end of the black couch across from the door. His suit jacket is off as he stands up and greets the already overly-excited Jimin. None of them are saying anything as Junho leaves, the faint sound of the crowd outside is slowly disappearing. Jimin won’t admit it, but seeing Yoongi up close for the first time in his life isn’t making his already unstable breath any more stabler. It’s not making the butterflies in his stomach to stop fluttering either; Jimin feels like he’s eighteen again, watching Min Yoongi’s performance for the first time in TV, trying to keep every bit of emotion inside of him yet only failing in doing so.

‘I’m Park Jimin. It’s so great to meet you. Thank you for the, um, this?’ Is all Jimin can muster up while looking at everything in the room except at Yoongi.

‘No problem. Junho told me that you’re a big fan, so I thought why not?’ His voice without the mic is lower, much, much lower. And Jimin’s catapulting inside.

‘Do you mind if we take a picture?’ Jimin’s smile is so bright that Yoongi doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Jimin moves further away from him after the picture.

It’s close to midnight and for some unknown reason, with Yoongi’s sudden flash of kindness and maybe, just maybe, a bit of bravery, he suddenly says to the awkwardly standing Jimin, ‘Want to grab some beer?’

All Jimin can do is nod. It’s not everyday a guy like Min Yoongi invites him for a drink.

The walk to the nearest bar is quiet. Jimin, dressed warmly in his padded jacket is walking next to the humming Min Yoongi. He doesn’t really know why this all is happening and how. But Jimin doesn’t question good things that happen to him and this might just be the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, well, besides getting accepted in university but that’s a different story.

‘When did you find out about me?’ Yoongi looks at Jimin. And he realizes just how beautiful he is. Jimin’s hair is quite frizzy from the cold, his cheeks are almost like blush wine but only can be seen faintly through the lamp post of the walkway, and he hasn’t stopped smiling ever since they left the waiting room.

‘Um,’ Jimin stops and faces Yoongi, trying to think of the correct thing to say, ‘when you performed with Seo In Na in MMA.’ Jimin was eighteen at the time, still very much playing piano but still hadn’t found any passion for it, but all his mother wanted was for him to play and the only thing that could give Jimin even a hint of excitement was the sound of Min Yoongi playing the piano. Maybe, that was it.

‘I just debuted like a month, at the time,’ Yoongi purses his lips and nods, Jimin finds it endearing. Like that’s all he wants to see his whole life.

The bar is packed with university students and Yoongi feels out of place. Jimin leads them both to the only two seating table that’s available, with people greeting him at times and him only replying with a big smile and a nod. Yoongi finds this immeasurably familiar, the kind of familiar you’d see if you met an ex lover in your next life.

‘Is this table okay?’

‘Perfect,’ Yoongi replies with a nod and Jimin thinks he will never get used to it.

Late January, 2016

Jimin sits patiently outside of the unfamiliar studio he is at. He was planning to wait outside, being somewhere he’s not familiar with just doesn’t sit right with him, but it’s freezing and the only thing covering him is the brown coat he received for Christmas last year. His hands are in his pocket and his face is almost fully covered with the wool scarf Taehyung gave him two days ago with the note, ‘your late Christmas gift. You’re welcome.’

‘Hey,’ the familiar sound Jimin never gets tired of suddenly appears in front of him. His hair messy from the evident stress being in the studio has given him, but his smirk is still very much there, sending shivers down Jimin’s spine.

‘You’re done?’ Jimin looks up from his phone.

‘Yes. Let me go grab my jacket. Do you want a padded one too? I don’t think that coat will do,’ Yoongi goes back in his studio, continued with the sound of ruffles and an occasional ‘fuck’. He comes back out with a padded jacket on and another on his hand, shoving it to Jimin.

They are sitting on the farthest end of the sushi bar, Yoongi’s eating without any sound coming out and Jimin is looking at him. He’s used to this, he really is. But what Taehyung said a few nights ago is ringing in his head, ‘don’t sell yourself short of love.’

Jimin doesn’t love Yoongi. At least not yet. It’s only been a month and a half since he’s known Yoongi, they’re not even dating, but the mere thought of Yoongi and someone else just doesn’t seem right to Jimin. But he shakes that thought away, after all, he’s merely an (almost) graduating Psychology student - he’s not supposed to fuss over things that doesn’t matter. But the more he shakes that thought away, the more it comes back.

May, 2016

‘Babe,’ Yoongi says over the phone. He’s laying on his hotel bedroom, a wine glass filled with Chardonnay is sitting nicely on the table next to him.

‘Yeah?’ Jimin replies from the other end of the line.

‘Fuck, wrong number,’ Yoongi curses over and over again inside. He blames his stupid mistake on the two glasses of wine he’s had. Yoongi hears more chatters, it’s busy where Jimin is at, which confuses Yoongi for a few seconds; he hasn’t gotten the hang of time zones.

‘I’m busy,’ Jimin doesn’t want to interfere, he won’t budge. If Yoongi won’t tell him, then it probably isn’t his right to know anyway, no matter how hard it is to keep himself from being brutally honest. Jimin doesn’t like to argue. Especially with Yoongi.

‘Sorry, I’m just ... I thought you were someone else.’

‘Is everything alright?’

No, Yoongi says to himself. Nothing has been feeling alright for weeks.

‘Yes. Perfect. Stream my performance tomorrow, okay?’

Jimin exhales deeply, he didn’t study psychology for four years to not spot Yoongi’s lie for the almost countless of times. But if there’s anything Jimin wants to say, he doesn’t say it, because the phone has just cut off. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jimin thinks.

June, 2016

Jimin is at Yoongi’s studio, he’s familiar with every corner of it by now. He didn’t think it was a good idea to come considering Yoongi came over to his flat the night before, intoxicated beyond measures. But he comes anyway, in hopes that even though Yoongi remembers some bits of that night, he won’t bring it up.

But he does.

‘Sorry about last night.’

‘You always come by my flat anyway, chill,’ Jimin doesn’t look at him, instead, he’s focusing on Yoongi’s keyboard, plopped on his wooden table.

‘I’m not sorry about that, though,’ Yoongi says almost too softly.  

‘So what are you sorry about?’ He’s just dragging this on, scared to know what comes next. I don’t want you to be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about.

‘I’m sorry that I kissed you,’ but Yoongi’s sorry. And Yoongi doesn’t lie.

‘But I’m not,’ it’s fine, really, Jimin thinks. But all he wants to do right now is kiss the living shit out Yoongi with neither of them being sorry for it.

But even the thought of it seems too far-fetched.

August, 2016

Jimin calls Yoongi at 3:45 in the morning, he’s deeply intoxicated but Yoongi’s in Prague for a concert. And even though it is 7:45 in Prague and Yoongi’s about to start his concert, he picks the phone up anyway.

‘You okay there, buddy?’

‘Me? I’m great, thanks for asking. Can you pick me up?’ Jimin’s voice is slurred, barely audible from the loud background music of whatever club he’s at.

‘Jimin, I’m in Prague. Did you forget?’ Yoongi chuckles and even though Jimin can barely walk, the sound of Yoongi’s deep laugh sends shivers down his spine.

‘Ah. Sorry about that,’ Yoongi’s never there.

‘Make Taehyung pick you up.’

‘Taehyung. Right. Someone who actually cares,’ but before Yoongi can say anything, Jimin ends the call.

October, 2016

‘How did you two become close anyway?’ Jungkook asks over the phone. Jimin called his apartment thinking that he’d find Taehyung, but he’s out for work and Jungkook seems to be the only one available for one of Jimin’s vents.

‘The night of the recital, we went to grab a drink. Maybe we wanted to see each other more but not enough?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Some teeny bopper love story of a one-sided love, Jungkook,’ Jimin thinks it’s funny, but Jungkook doesn’t think so. Love isn’t meant to be described that way, love isn’t as simple as a movie. But Jungkook is better at leaving things unsaid, especially with Jimin.

‘You sure you’re okay?’

‘Never been better,’ but looking at the 2 bottles of soju next to him, it doesn’t look like he’s even near being fine. Not at all.

December, 2016

Jimin hasn’t talked to Yoongi for a month and a half. None of them has even tried to fix whatever mess they had created, in hopes that over time, things will go back to how it’s always been.

Are u busy?

The notification scares Jimin for a (few) seconds.

No. Why?

It takes twenty minutes for Yoongi to reply. But those twenty minutes feels like a long, long stretch of time.

Down for coffee?

Yes.

No.

Jimin tries to act as nonchalant, it’s time for him to move on. Falling in love with a musician who actually knows you exist has quite the same effect as falling in love with a musician who doesn’t… at least for Jimin.

Alright.

Jimin leaves Yoongi on read.

July, 2017

‘There’s someone on the phone for you,’ Jimin changed his number two months ago, something along the lines of a new beginning and a new iPhone he purchased only recently.

‘Who?’

‘He didn’t tell,’ Soojung, Jimin’s newly-hired receptionist whispers, covering the speaker end of the phone.

‘Alright. Thanks,’ Jimin gives her a smile and takes the call.

He doesn’t expect anything at first. Thinking that it’s one of his university buddies trying to get in touch. But the deep cough and the then familiar, ‘hello?’ throws Jimin off.

‘H-hello?’ Jimin can barely say anything. But his eyes are wet and he doesn’t know why.

‘Jimin?’

‘Yeah?’ Jimin can barely breathe.

‘Can we talk?’

No.

‘Yes.’

So Jimin picks up his things and goes to the coffee shop near Yoongi’s studio. Maybe now things will get better.

But things don’t get better.

Because instead of putting things back together, Yoongi’s whole intent of the meet up is to announce the inevitable proposal of marriage, of course not to Jimin. Of course. Jimin should have known.

‘You what?’

‘I’m going to propose,’ his nonchalant tone isn’t helping Jimin to cope with this situation. Who would’ve thought that a couple of months would change things this much?

‘Propose? To who?’

‘Junho,’ the name comes out of Yoongi’s mouth so easily, as if he’s been saying his name all his life. And Jimin doesn’t like, he doesn’t like it one bit. But when it comes to Yoongi, there’s no bone in Jimin’s body that’d argue with him.

‘Junho? Kim Junho?’ But this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

‘Yeah, sorry I never told you. I was going to tell you last December but you—‘

‘Since when?’ Jimin’s voice is soft now, too soft for Yoongi to find any hint of disappointment.

‘Last November.’

Jimin takes another sip of his bitter Americano. When he finally musters up the courage to speak up, Yoongi hands him a cd. It’s plain white and on it, written with a black sharpie: For Junho.

‘I wrote him a song,’ and I’ve loved you for two years, so what?

‘I’m sure he’ll love it,’ Yoongi relaxes in his chair, his hair is shorter now, Jimin realizes, still as messy, but there’s a hint of change on his face. Jimin can’t seem to point out what it is.

‘I’ll send it to you once he hears it.’

‘No. Please don’t do that. Keep it between the two of you.’

‘But you’re my biggest fan,’ Jimin doesn’t want to admit it, but Yoongi owes him so much more than that. So, so much more.

December 2nd, 2017

Jimin doesn’t remember the last time he’s even seen Yoongi’s face. His wedding invitation came in the mail yesterday, sent in a pearl white envelope, with Yoongi and Junho’s name engraved on it. He still hasn’t opened it, thinking of an excuse to not come to Yoongi’s wedding.

Is yoongi really getting married?

This time Taehyung texts him.

Yep. Inv came in the mail yesterday.

What Taehyung says next throws Yoongi all the way back to his university days.

You never told him?

Told him what?

Jimin knows what’s coming next. In all honesty, his love for Yoongi all these years was just a deconstructed form of skinny love. Of things that’s left unsaid.

That you loved him. Love.

Taehyung doesn’t know anything, Jimin thinks. Though deep down Jimin knows he probably knows him more than anyone else.

Jimin leaves Taehyung on read.  

December 20th, 2017

Jimin cares about Yoongi, he really does. And he doubts that it will change. But Jimin also likes to think that things have changed so much between them that this love he has for Yoongi isn’t the same love he’s felt for Yoongi months and months ago.

The only two people Jimin knows in the wedding party are Jungkook and Taehyung; sitting nicely in a round table near the entrance door, they wave at Jimin. Jimin comes over.

‘Hang in there,’ Taehyung whispers and pats Jimin’s back.

‘I’ll be okay, bud.’ Jimin thinks he might cry. Taehyung notices and pats his back once more. Jungkook squeezes Jimin’s hand, reassuring him that things will be okay. The first time Jimin meets a married Yoongi is in the bathroom. Yoongi looks overwhelmed but so, so happy. Jimin is happy that things are going together for Yoongi. Even if those things might have taken a bit of heartbreak and disappointment on Jimin’s part. ‘Congratulations, hyung,’ this time, Jimin means it with all his heart. ‘Thank you,’ he says with his usual gummy smile. Along with things that wither, you are growing now, hyung.

June, 2018

Lang Leav once written a poem about change. Again, it is short, isn’t comprised of fancy words that Jimin finds hard to understand. But in it, as many other forms of poetry, Jimin finds reassurance.

And the weather was so damn sick of being predictable; I heard it began snowing in the Sahara and I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed.

‘It’s perfect,’ Jimin says holding the sky blue album cover. When We Grow, is written in black with a sharpie font in Yoongi’s hand writing.

‘You’re one of the dedication,’ and Jimin will admit this: for the first time, he wishes he isn’t.

‘Thank you, for everything.’’ Jimin smiles back at him.

‘You too, Jimin. Thanks for being there,’ Yoongi pats Jimin’s hand, giving him a nod.

Maybe in another world, Jimin has moved on. Although he hasn’t, Jimin likes to think that it’s okay. Living proof that yes, he’s fallen in love and although things aren’t okay now, it sure will be.

Track 4: The Way We Grow

To Jimin, you are undeniably my biggest fan. Hang in there, bud.

[bagog]

Christmas Past - Synthesis

Okay, two weird Mass Effect Christmas stories down, now to write this one. Sorry, these are all just off-the-cuff, writing them to queue before I go to sleep. They may be a bit disjointed.

Index to be populated as they post

++

When Kaidan breathed, the moonlit forest around him breathed. Boughs of cedar and spruce sighed beneath the weight of the snow that covered them, the naked aspens seemed to grumble in their sleep.

When Kaidan looked up into the sky, he saw the stars, thought the moon should have been so bright as to hide them. His new eyes could see the pinpricks of light in the silver wash, clear as anything, and he knew that one was the Silean nebula, and that one was the Kepler Verge, no matter how distant and how dim. New eyes, and the same old forest from a new perspective.

Dry, feathery snowflakes drifted down: caught up on the wind from the tops of pine trees and scattered across the forest again. Like stars that drifted down from the night like feathers torn out of the pillow of the moon, but no matter how many such stars fell, the Kepler Verge stayed there and the Annos Basin stayed there and everything hung in its place. Right where it belonged.

He could feel the snow falling on the forest. On the trees.

Shepard was in those trees, and it was Shepard’s eyes that let him see every star. And Shepard was woven around those stars, those systems.

Right where he belonged...

But Kaidan sat in the snow, the cold shocking his skin through the seat of his pants, and he wished Shepard were by his side, instead.

“What was your favorite Christmas, Shepard?”

Of course, there was no answer, even though Shepard was everywhere.

The rush of thoughts, the connection he felt with everything, since the synthesis, had convinced him utterly that Shepard had made the only choice. But the data pouring in--the gratefulness and the zeal for life from every being he met--still could not crowd out the heartache, not anymore than the brightness of the moon could wash out every star, anymore.

“This Christmas,” Kaidan whispered, and so the trees whispered too with a soft scattering of snow upon dead branches, “This is our Christmas.”

While the synthesis was novel, while he could still feel the grief so strong that it made him believe he would feel Shepard’s hand on his shoulder any moment, while the Shepard being ‘everywhere’ was still a miracle and not part of the everyday...

This was there only chance. Kaidan would look back on this Christmas night and know that it was his best. Their best, because it had to be.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, December 6, 2020

Biden officially secures enough electors to become president (AP) California certified its presidential election Friday and appointed 55 electors pledged to vote for Democrat Joe Biden, officially handing him the Electoral College majority needed to win the White House. Secretary of State Alex Padilla’s formal approval of Biden’s win in the state brought his tally of pledged electors so far to 279, according to a tally by The Associated Press. That’s just over the 270 threshold for victory. Although it’s been apparent for weeks that Biden won the presidential election, his accrual of more than 270 electors is the first step toward the White House, said Edward B. Foley, a law professor at Ohio State University. “It is a legal milestone and the first milestone that has that status,” Foley said. “Everything prior to that was premised on what we call projections.” The electors named Friday will meet Dec. 14, along with counterparts in each state, to formally vote for the next president. Most states have laws binding their electors to the winner of the popular vote in their state, measures that were upheld by a Supreme Court decision this year. There have been no suggestions that any of Biden’s pledged electors would contemplate not voting for him.

Further Slowdown in Job Creation Sets Off Economic Alarms (NYT) The American job engine has slowed significantly, stranding millions who have yet to find work after being idled by the pandemic, and offering fresh evidence that the recovery is faltering. The Labor Department reported Friday that employers added 245,000 jobs in November, fewer than half the number created in October. The pace of hiring has now diminished for five straight months. While many of those knocked out of a job early in the pandemic have been rehired, there are roughly 10 million fewer jobs than there were in February. Many of the unemployed are weeks away from losing benefits that have sustained them, with emergency assistance approved by Congress last spring set to expire at the end of the year. The latest sign of economic headwinds arrived as members of Congress struggled to reach agreement on a new aid package. A bipartisan group of legislators has put forward a $900 billion proposal, and the House speaker, Nancy Pelosi, said the disappointing jobs report should add momentum to negotiations.

Southern California, San Joaquin Valley under restrictions (AP) Faced with a dire shortage of hospital beds, health officials announced Saturday the vast region of Southern California and a large swath of the Central Valley will be placed under a sweeping new lockdown in an urgent attempt to slow the rapid rise of coronavirus cases. he new measures will take effect Sunday evening and remain in place for at least three weeks, meaning the lockdown will cover the Christmas holiday. Much of the state is on the brink of the same restrictions. Some counties have opted to impose them even before the mandate kicks in, including five San Francisco Bay Area counties where the measures also take effect starting Sunday. With a new lockdown looming, many rushed out to supermarkets Saturday and lined up outside salons to squeeze in a haircut before the orders kicked in. The measures bar all on-site restaurant dining and close hair and nail salons, movie theaters and many other businesses, as well as museums and playgrounds. It says people may not congregate with anyone outside their household and must always wear masks when they go outside.

Honduras president seeks assistance, warns of increased migration in wake of devastating hurricanes (Washington Post) Weeks after Hurricanes Eta and Iota struck Central America in quick succession, nearly 100,000 Hondurans are living in shelters, many of which have become coronavirus hotspots. The country’s economy has been paralyzed. It is an unprecedented crisis, Honduran President, Juan Orlando Hernández said in an interview with The Washington Post on Friday. Hernández warned that in the absence of a coordinated international response, migration from Honduras to the United States could surge. “Imagine someone who lost everything, his house, his source of income, who feels hopeless and believes that there’s nothing left for him,” Hernández said. “And then he has a relative (in the United States) who says: ‘Come here.’ “ On Friday, Honduras filed a request with the Trump administration for temporary protected status (TPS) for Honduran citizens who are already in the United States. Guatemala, which was also affected by the two hurricanes, filed its own request last month. The Trump administration has tried to end existing TPS programs, which protect migrants from deportation while their countries manage crises.

The coronavirus has come roaring back into Brazil (Washington Post) RIO DE JANEIRO—For weeks, it has seemed that the pandemic was on the way out. The beaches, bars and restaurants had filled. The message: Rio de Janeiro was back. Now the city—and much of Brazil—is grappling with the sudden realization that the coronavirus has suddenly roared back. In Rio de Janeiro, where the virus has already killed tens of thousands, upturned the economy and sent rates of homelessness soaring, moments that recall the darkest days of the pandemic are once more appearing in the news. Sick people, unable to get help in the medical system, are again being found dead at home. Lines stretching into the hundreds are forming for intensive care beds. Hospital officials are warning of supply shortages and an imminent collapse in medical services. Even the vaunted private heath-care system reached 98 percent capacity in its intensive care units this past week, officials said. In states across the country, the situation wasn’t much better. Public health officials are increasingly worried.

Black Man Is Beaten on Camera, Thrusting French Police Into Spotlight (NYT) Without the video, Michel Zecler believes his case would have been reduced, at most, to a brief news item. Maybe something like this: “A young man, Black, wearing a sweatshirt and a hood, a shoulder bag, assaulted police officers, attempted to seize their weapons,” Mr. Zecler said in an interview on Thursday. “If I didn’t have my cameras, I’d be in prison today,” he added, referring to the security cameras in the vestibule of the building where he keeps his music studio. The footage from those cameras, showing police officers gratuitously beating Mr. Zecler, 41, a producer well known in the world of French rap, has instead helped fuel a political crisis in France and once again turned a spotlight on the issue of police brutality, especially against the country’s minority citizens. Mr. Zecler became the focus of a national uproar that has forced President Emmanuel Macron’s government to scrap and rewrite part of a security bill that would have restricted the filming of police. Critics say a provision in the security bill was aimed at snuffing out precisely the kinds of cellphone videos of the police roughing up demonstrators that have brought them under intense new scrutiny.

Swiss slopes buzz as those of neighbors sit idle in pandemic (AP) Two weeks after beating COVID-19, Thierry Salamin huffs as his ski boots crunch through Swiss snow near the Matterhorn peak, readying for a downhill run with his mood as bright as his blue and fluorescent yellow ski getup and the sun overhead. The 31-year-old real estate agent from the southwestern Swiss region of Wallis can’t believe he is skiing during a pandemic, let alone one that he personally endured—and which has driven a wedge between his country and its Alpine neighbors over where people can ski, and where they can’t. While the coronavirus resurgence has led Austria, France, and Italy to shut or severely restrict access to their ski stations this holiday season, Switzerland has kept its slopes open—a move that has fanned grumbling about an unlevel playing field when it comes to Alpine fun. The Swiss say they’re taking reasonable action to fight the coronavirus. Authorities require masks in ski lifts and queues, and recommend hand hygiene and physical distancing measures.

Diplomacy was the real loser (Christian Science Monitor) This autumn’s intense six-week war between Armenia and Azerbaijan offers a stark lesson in the costs of diplomatic failure: An unresolved territorial dispute suddenly erupted in violence that took thousands of lives and left a vastly changed landscape in its wake. Azerbaijan won the war with arms and advice from Turkey, dramatically reversing Armenia’s decisive victory a quarter century ago that had been frozen in place since 1994. The nub of the conflict is the Armenian-populated exclave of Nagorno-Karabakh, a Soviet-era autonomous region inside Azerbaijan that declared independence in 1988 as the USSR began to crumble. In the long and bloody war that ensued, Armenian forces not only secured the region, they occupied a huge swath of additional territory and expelled around 800,000 ethnic Azeris from it. The new armistice, which Russia imposed last month, restores all of those illegally seized lands to Azerbaijan and inserts 2,000 Russian peacekeeping troops into the area to enforce the deal. This dramatic outcome has triggered mass jubilation in Azerbaijan, plunged Armenia into a storm of national anguish, and left international diplomacy licking its wounds. The cease-fire lines brokered by Moscow almost exactly follow the diplomatic settlement that the international community had advocated for almost 30 years, but they were achieved by force of arms. The Minsk Group, comprising the United States, France, and Russia, which had been charged with resolving the conflict, proved irrelevant as the crisis climaxed; it was two regional powers, Russia and Turkey, that brought the warring parties to heel.

Trump restricts U.S. visas for Chinese Communist Party members and families (Washington Post) The State Department imposed tighter visa regulations for Chinese Communist Party members Thursday in a move that puts limits on U.S. travel for tens of millions of Chinese working in government and other prominent roles—and further stokes tensions with Beijing ahead of the Biden administration. The new rules would affect members of China’s ruling party, who number around 92 million, and their close relatives. The impact could be sweeping in a country where party members dominate the upper echelons not only in government but also in business, media, academia and other areas. The restrictions would limit visas for party members and their relatives to a single entry, with the visa duration lasting one month. Previously, Chinese nationals were eligible to apply for tourism or business visas, for instance, that are valid for 10 years and for unlimited entries. The new rules for party members could be disruptive for trade, academic and cultural exchanges between the two countries and the personal lives of the elite. Communist Party membership is not explicitly required but is often a de facto requisite for career advancement to top positions in China from the government to most major industries and academia. Many rank-and-file corporate employees and low-level civil servants are also dues-paying members.

Trump orders most American troops to leave Somalia (AP) The Pentagon said Friday it is pulling most U.S. troops out of Somalia on President Donald Trump’s orders, continuing a post-election push by Trump to shrink U.S. involvement in counterterrorism missions abroad. Without providing details, the Pentagon said in a short statement that “a majority” of U.S. troops and assets in Somalia will be withdrawn in early 2021. There are currently about 700 troops in that Horn of Africa nation, training and advising local forces in an extended fight against the extremist group al-Shabab, an affiliate of al-Qaida. Trump recently ordered troop drawdowns in Afghanistan and Iraq, and he was expected to withdraw some or all troops from Somalia. Gen. Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, had said on Wednesday that the future structure of the U.S. military presence in Somalia was still in debate.

Ethiopia’s war in Tigray shows no signs of abating, despite government’s victory claims (Washington Post) Clashes continued across Ethiopia’s Tigray region and humanitarian aid remained paused at its border Friday, despite government claims that military operations had ceased and pledges to allow U.N. agencies access to hundreds of thousands of people who rely on them for food. Diplomats, aid workers and analysts said in interviews that the war in Tigray, Ethiopia’s northernmost region, was far from over even with government troops in effective control of the region’s main city, Mekele. The fighting has shifted to Tigray’s many craggy mountain ranges—difficult terrain where TPLF leaders and militia hold the advantage of familiarity and have been able to regroup. The TPLF’s leadership remains largely intact despite abandoning Mekele last week. On Thursday, in a message aired on a regional television network, one prominent leader called on supporters to “rise and deploy to battle in tens of thousands.”

[diaspora9ja]

23 days to save Christmas: UK retailers fight Covid gloom | Business

For practically a month festive store home windows and twinkling fairy lights have been wasted on empty excessive streets however that modifications on Wednesday when the top of procuring restrictions in England fingers retailers 23 days to save lots of Christmas.

Retailers have drawn up the battle plans they hope will allow them to securely concertina two months’ price of Christmas buyers right into a Covid-secure one, from round the clock procuring in Primark to digital queues outdoors John Lewis.

The four-week shutdown has value the non-essential retail chains, which promote Christmas presents corresponding to garments, toys and devices, an estimated £8bn in misplaced gross sales. A profitable December shall be essential to stopping additional retailer closures and job losses on the UK’s battered excessive streets.

For struggling retailers corresponding to Sir Philip Green’s Arcadia fashion group and the department store chain Debenhams, the November shutdown was the ultimate straw. Debenhams’ 124 shops are reopening solely to run closing-down gross sales as directors wind up the 242-year-old chain after failing to discover a purchaser.

Debenhams is ready to be wound down, closing all 124 shops, placing 12,000 jobs in danger. {Photograph}: James Veysey/Rex/Shutterstock

Analysts say the failure of two family names, which collectively make use of 25,000 individuals and run 574 outlets, threatens to destabilise the excessive road throughout a essential buying and selling window. The Moody’s analyst David Beadle mentioned heavy discounting may now be added to the record of challenges dealing with clothes retailers as they reopen to face a “condensed Christmas season on the finish of a particularly troublesome 12 months”.

There are few retailers the place the stakes are larger right now of 12 months than within the toy enterprise. Roughly 1 / 4 of the £3.6bn spent on toys within the UK occurs in December. November equates to about 15% or £500m of Lego and LOL Surprise! dolls.

Gary Grant, the founder and chairman of The Entertainer, is anticipating a rush. “Whether it is something like our expertise in Wales [where stores reopened on 9 November] we’ll open to a 50% enhance in gross sales over final 12 months,” he mentioned.

Like different chains The Entertainer’s outlets will open for a least 12 hours a day. Marks & Spencer is promising its “longest-ever” Christmas opening hours, together with protecting 400 shops open till midnight within the last week. Primark’s chief govt, Paul Marchant, has gone additional nonetheless with 11 shops reopening for an preliminary 24-hour stint so buyers should buy its “well-known Christmas jumpers, festive pyjamas and far, far more”.

Gary Grant, proprietor of toy chain The Entertainer, plans to open his shops 12 hours a day. {Photograph}: Sarah Lee/The Guardian

The federal government has not relaxed Sunday buying and selling legal guidelines and whereas non-essential retail is reopening in England on Wednesday it’ll stay closed in components of Scotland and Northern Eire till 11 December.

Grant’s robust Christian beliefs imply The Entertainer all the time closes on Sundays, giving it simply 20 days to maximise Christmas commerce. “They’re gonna be a blast,” he says of the times to come back. “We’re going to be completely run off our toes.”

Longer buying and selling hours is a technique of dealing with social distancing necessities however different inventive routes to crowd management are additionally being deployed. John Lewis is providing “bookable procuring slots” and a digital queuing system that allocates buyers a time to return if there’s a line outdoors.

Lush has discontinued 200 merchandise and sharpened its costs throughout lockdown. {Photograph}: Dave Rushen/Sopa Photos/Rex/Shutterstock

The Lush co-founder, Mark Constantine, mentioned the important thing to protecting employees and prospects secure could be to serve prospects as rapidly and as effectively as doable. “Individuals don’t wish to be put in a troublesome scenario inside a store,” he mentioned.

As a part of that effectivity drive, the Poole-based retailer, best-known for its aromatic soaps and bathtub bombs, has discontinued 200 merchandise and sharpened its costs. “I removed a load of issues I name nubbins,” the businessman mentioned.

Earlier than the brand new lockdowns had been imposed excessive streets and procuring centres had been struggling to coax buyers again in the identical volumes seen earlier than the pandemic. Retail knowledge professional Springboard reckons the reopening of shops ought to lead to week-on-week shopper numbers leaping by 40%, however that determine would nonetheless be virtually two-fifths down on 2019.

Central London retailers corresponding to Harvey Nichols count on a surge in shopper numbers within the run-up to Christmas. {Photograph}: Man Bell/Rex/Shutterstock

One of many largest casualties has been London’s West Finish procuring district, which is closely reliant on workplace staff and abroad vacationers. The excessive finish shops on key procuring thoroughfares corresponding to Oxford Avenue often rake in additional than £2.5bn in November and December however this 12 months the determine is anticipated to be about £900m.

Signal as much as the day by day Enterprise Right this moment electronic mail or comply with Guardian Enterprise on Twitter at @BusinessDesk

Whereas the top of the spring lockdown led to a gradual restoration in shopper numbers, Jace Tyrrell, the chief govt of the New West Finish Firm that represents 600 retailers within the space, expects extra of a bang this time spherical. The closeness to Christmas led to a 30% surge in shopper numbers in three days earlier than the November lockdown started in England.

“We expect there’s going to be numerous pent up demand,” Tyrell mentioned. “The summer season was slower. This can be a fully totally different feeling. There’s extra confidence with prospects, the vaccine is on its method. Operationally it’s about opening hours.”

Helen Dickinson, the chief govt of the British Retail Consortium, is encouraging Britons to assist their native outlets. Each buy, she mentioned, was a “retailer helped, a job protected and a area people supported”.

Source link

from Diaspora9ja https://diaspora9ja.com/23-days-to-save-christmas-uk-retailers-fight-covid-gloom-business/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=23-days-to-save-christmas-uk-retailers-fight-covid-gloom-business

[lockdownjournal]

Day 28

Monday 20 April

A grape is all it took to decide I'm virus-free.  It went down the wrong way as I was having breakfast: I cough and gasp briefly.  Maybe the spasms I've been having lately are just caused by swallowing problems (the internet calls it "dysphagia"). 

That would explain the lack of temperature, and the fact that my wife and daughter haven't caught what I have. 

I spend much of the morning writing to the solicitor, trying to convince her that the cash we are using to buy a flat is not drug money.  I'm in the living room, typing with exculpatory vehemence, when our daughter comes running down the stairs. 

She's spotted our 87-year-old neighbour Catriona staggering homeward carrying big shopping bags.  She hasn't been well for a while, and like all elderly people, is supposed to stay home.  As we look out the window, we see a stranger is rushing down her driveway. 

We run out.  Catriona has fallen and the passer-by is helping her up.  There is blood on the spot where her head hit the paving bricks.  We release the Good Samaritan with many thanks, take Catriona into her house and sit her down. 

The wound is superficial.  As my wife cleans it, she sternly reminds the octogenarian that she is NOT to go out.  Whenever we go shopping, we call her and get what she needs. The carer who visits her every day also buys food. 

But Catriona is as stubborn as she's peripatetic.  I doubt that my wife's renewed admonishments will have any effect.  As I put away the contents of the heavy shopping bags, I note that most of it was not needed.  She already had plenty of milk and bread. 

My wife sends a message to Catriona's family to explain what happened.  The daughter-in-law replies that Catriona should go into a care home but she just won't. 

After lunch, we decide to venture beyond the local shops for the first time in weeks. Restrictions on driving have been relaxed.  The government allows you use your car to get exercise "provided the time you spend driving does not exceed the time spent on the exercise". 

We grab the dog and travel to a scenic spot 20 minutes away.  Spending more than 40 minutes walking along the shady banks of a stream is not a problem, so we can't get into trouble with the police.  There are fewer people here than in our local wood.

On the way we notice all the closed country pubs.  On a glorious spring afternoon, the sight is striking.  An essential part of English life has shut down. The government says pubs, restaurants and bars – which employ 1.5m people - may not reopen until Christmas. 

On the way back we stop at Tesco's. A few days ago I noted how at Sainsbury's highlighted the emergency through sound (e.g. patriotic tannoy announcements).  Tesco's is going for visuals. 

I follow the signs and floor marks around the store's one-way system.  At the checkout I'm instructed where to queue.  I find all this unsettling.  Having said that, I walk out with the wine I was after. 

[jennyquill]

some kara/lena headcannons + ramblings

ok this is just for me and for funsies ive got a lot of thoughts and not a lot of people to share them with but we might as well start somewhere. 

it’s really long fam

Who’s the cuddler: definitely both? kara really likes closeness in general and lena is an absolute sucker for cuddles and + homegirl’s probs really touched starved too so they probably have major cuddling sessions where nothing really happens they just want to be as close as possible to each other. i’ve also seen some headcannons where kara’s basically a human furnace and i can see lena getting *lovingly* frustrated at her girlfriend’s ridiculous body heat but also consider: lena luthor being a cuddle slut and absolutely adoring kara’s eternal warmth

Who’s the big spoon/little spoon: kara likes to default to big spoon but doesn’t mind when lena takes the reigns. they’re probably switch in this.

Fav. non sexual activity: this is a huge fanon thing and i totally am on the bandwagon for it: lazy sundays. just. an entire day where sluggish, hedonistic desires are met and they close themselves off to the world um yes pls this is very kara/lena. also music. i like the idea of them being well-read in the music world and just going to concerts ranging from mahler to andrew bird to nicki minaj and selena gomez and probably some other hipster bands. sharing each other’s spotify’s and sending each other youtube links of cool obscure bands they find. kara discovering someone’s bandcamp and lena anonymously donating to their page. lena loving the opera and introducing kara to verdi. lena having a guilty pleasure for 21 pilots or smth and kara being ???? ok let’s jam. i just really! love! music! and! kara/lena!! (omg kara teaching lena advanced music theory??? maybe lena was semi trained in her youth but never really went past building chords and one afternoon kara just takes her aside and teaches her part writing and its weird ass rules and lena catching on in an instant bc all music theory is an extension of math and logic. them writing songs together im???)

Who uses all the hot water: KARA her apartment may be big and spacious but that don’t mean her water heater is up to date

Most trivial thing they fight over: shoes. they’re like, a half shoe size a part even though lena’s smaller and maybe with certain styles kara can fit in some of lena’s nice loafers or lena lowkey uses this one specific pair of black heels of kara’s and this leads to the pettiest arguments of “those are my shoes and today is my day no you cannot wear them.” also kara accidentally putting things in hard to reach places bc she’s still getting used to living with someone who can’t just fly up to get the pans on top of the fridge.

Who does the most cleaning: they’re both pretty good at keeping things neat. lena’s not used to kara’s ‘throw this here and pick it up later’ system but they work things out. lena’s also really bad at keeping track of how fast her messes pile up and even though she always cleans after herself sometimes kara comes home and there’s just trails of paper and books and like five computers running and she’s like babe ur home office took over the house. also what’s that saying that really intelligent people are the messiest or smth? smth like “an empty desk is an empty brain” idk. i’m just thinking that even though lena presents herself nicely and clearly has a grip on herself just think about her home office being a small battlefield of stacks and files and prototypes. also lena with a messy closet is pretty believable like she may know how to match her clothes but that doesn’t necessarily mean her closet is in pristine condition idk i present to you: kara, organized closet by color and design and lena, these are my yoga pants and they’re hanging next to my 200$ suit

Who controls Netflix queue: kara is queen of netflix and all things to watch. lena doesn’t know how she manages to afford netflix and amazon prime at the same time but then again she also doesn’t know how kara affords her apartment in the first place.

Who calls the landlord when the heat doesn’t work: lena gets it done faster; kara doesn’t even notice the temperature has dropped 20 degrees until lena puts on her winter coat

Who leaves their stuff around: kara’s constantly dropping her clothes in the most random places bc supergirl reasons. lena finds her tights and button up in the bathroom at the beginning of the week and by the end of the week she’s found her shoes in the potted plant, her pants on the kitchen island, and various shirts smashed between things ranging from the stereo set to the fridge. lena’s one of those people who can always remember where they’ve left their stuff even if they’ve left it in a maze

Who remembers to buy the milk: kara’s shopping lists aren’t always practical but she does remember to buy the milk

Who remembers anniversaries: both. at the start of their relationship ena’s afraid to make it a big deal bc fear of rejection and commitment but kara rubs those fears away by being the most supportive girlfriend. also kara having her own reservations about commitment. kara knowing that relationships ask a lot out of people, that both have to work to make it happen. kara trying, despite her previous relationships to go forward and build something strong for lena and her. kara forging on, ignoring the demon in her head telling her that she can’t have it all, that she’ll never be able to find balance, that no one will truly take her for who she is. lena recognizing and soothing these fears, destroying these fears by staying steadfastly by kara’s side and saying fuck it and falling hard and fast for the girl of steel. lena being a dramatic gay and showering kara with expensive gifts and bringing her as her date to exclusive parties. kara bringing lena gifts from the sea and pretty rocks from mountains that humans can’t climb, kara finding the quiet corners of the world and bringing lena there and they build their world from each other’s strength and their secrets bonding them and told through trust. lena and kara in love and a super and a luthor defying the odds because they can and because they will.

Who cooks normally: i love the headcannons of kara being the cook bc hello it’s kara and this girl’s first love on earth (besides alex) was probably food. but i also like the idea of them both being hopeless in the kitchen? like. imagine them both trying to save money and taking cooking classes or watching baking videos online. going to the library and trying out a different recipe each week. lena making a pinterest of all the breakfast items she wants to try on lazy sundays. together, learning how to cook and messing up and getting distracted by each other so their meals turn out just a little bit burnt. kara trying to make homemade icecream. kara eating half the ingredients before lena has a chance to put the roast in the oven. them making thanksgiving dinner and it’s kind of horrible but mostly alright and eliza makes them promise to let her help them out for christmas dinner. kara and lena slowly learning to cook and turning out to be kitchen moms with a wicked way with the cookbook.

How often they fight: god just they can either have the best arguments or the worst ones. they’re both really good communicators though and they’re respectful and sure things get heated and complicated but they live by the “don’t go to bed angry” rule and it really helps. lena can close herself off, be a little dramatic, maybe be a bit reckless when it comes to her self care and kara’s got a huge heart but she’s also terribly headstrong and sometimes their respective stubbornness blinds them. kara can be extra and make rash decisions. but at the end of the day they talk things through and their similar backgrounds help them reach understandings.

What they do when they’re away from each other: kara can visit lena wherever she is in the world but she’s also got her own job and while she’d gladly visit lena everynight lena knows better than to ask her to, knows that space can be good. if lena’s gone for extended periods of time they’ll arrange call times and kara visits when she can so long distance isn’t a main concern between the two of them. supergirl duties take kara away at really random and sometimes inopportune times but lena’s a patient soul and kara always makes sure she’s communicating to lena, making lena a priority but also lena knows that supergirl is The priority and she loves her hero girlfriend. also distance makes the heart grow fonder so imagine maybe their busy schedules overlapping and them not being able to be together for two weeks to a month and both are just going crazy like. kara wanting to rush off to her girlfriend every chance that she gets but lena’s on the other side of the world and up to her neck in corporate shenanigans so when they finally are able to orbit each other again it’s like a supernova and it’s handsy and desperate but also really nice and they just kinda hold each other for awhile and take their time regrouping after the initial homecoming. also kara/lena + reunion sex. bonus points if the next day is a lazy sunday.

Nicknames: idk? i don’t really see them having nicknames unless it’s the teasing miss luthor/miss danvers. they have pet names tho. lots of babes and darlings and sweethearts.

Who is most likely to pay for dinner: lena.

Who steals the covers at night: kara likes the comfort of being in buried in covers even though she really doesn't need them. lena’s a sheet goblin and probably lowkey hogs the bed. not the kara minds bc that girl sleeps like a log in one place.

What they would get each other for gifts: kinda already answered this but also wanted to add that idk where i saw this and i wish i could find it and link it but i read a really good one somewhere where somebody was like “lena gets kara lingerie and it’s an experience” and um yes??? if someone knows what this is pls tell me and i’ll link it/give proper credit im sorry. also! kara getting lena really practical things or gifts from around the world. lena going full out billionaire baby on kara and just the two of them being high end fashion, high end living, high end everything. but also enjoying the other spectrum of comfort and maybe for kara’s birthday they go on a road trip and stay in crappy motels and eat greasy diner food and have the quintessential american experience and it’s cathartic and slow and totally theirs.

Who kissed who first: i love the idea of kara making the first move and a surprised but delighted lena being like yesss.

Who makes the first move: kara’s the one to make all the first moves i’ve decided this. lena’s always just a lil hesitant, always thinking in strategies and kara’s the one to be like ok let’s do this when and where do we meet and they just progress from there.

Who remembers things: lena’s google calendar gives onlookers heart attacks on the spot. kara balances her duties pretty well but sometimes she can slip up and something will go over her head but she’s always responsive and owns up to her actions. they remember big days and lena’s always the one to follow up on dates or plans and kara’s the one that reminds lena to eat or rest or just take some time to herself.

Who started the relationship: their lunch dates turn to dinner dates that turn to hang out sessions until they’re three months down the road in a muddle of uncharted intimacy and one day alex goes “hey where’s ur gf” and kara’s like ??? oh lena. oh. well she’s probably running late bc i know she had a meeting or smth. and alex is like. ah. and kara’s like. ah? and alex is like “u didn’t question that lena’s ur gf? gay.” and kara’s like “omg” and then shenanigans ensue and long story short they’re dating.

Who curses more: lena luthor is a very attractive curser and kara doesn’t know what to do with this information. also. kara cursing in high stress situations or when something takes her by surprise. bed cursing. also kara whispering ‘fuck’ bc of smth and lena doing the side eye emoji.

What they would do if the other was hurt: lena’s become accustomed to seeing supergirl get whipped around on the tv screen but her heart rate still speeds up everytime kara gets hurt. they learn to trust one another and just build this really lovely relationship where the worst has already happened to them so they know that together they can get through anything. lena staying by kara in her sunbed. lena taking care of her helpless gf when her powers blow out. lena being a shoulder to cry on, lena understanding when kara needs someone to understand what kara doesn’t understand. kara doing the same for lena. kara protecting lena to her last breath. kara defending lena until her voice is hoarse. kara bringing lena food. them giving each other backrubs out of comfort or out of need. both of them being just as protective as the other with just as much concern and love and care and tenderness.

Who is the dirty talker: im blushin thinking about this. lena being the vocal one but also kara being really responsive to her? yes. someone fic this. someone probably already did.

Any headcanons? i’m really into kara and lena going to galas/parties and dressing up idk it’s just the aesthetic that gets me. also the music headcannon. i want kara who sings around her apartment or whenever she’s comfortable or when she’s doing work just singing all these songs and some lena recognizes and others are hymn songs from krypton or songs from her childhood. kara being a theatre nerd and geeking out to lena and lena lowkey understanding all of kara’s references. lena knowing piano and kara knowing like twelve different instruments. idk where that huge “kara loves music and learns to control her powers through it” post is but yeah im all for this mmhmm.

i’d also like to add: cello player kara. strings are a hard discipline to learn and you have to have the right amount of pressure and speed to pull the sound out of these types of instruments. also, the cello is low and kara would probably have perfect intonation with the low rumble of the strings, the orchestra, and her super hearing. kara having an extensive knowledge of baroque music and string quartets and being a nerd and analyzing bach chorales. also choir kid kara! being a voice within many and listening to the counterpoint and changing harmony. kara danvers, not a sports kid in high school, but a fine arts kid. going silly and goofy in the drama club, painting in the art club, being in two orchestras and a band on the side. trying out the glee club (ha) and being put in the top choir bc she’s strangely and inexplicably fast at learning the languages and parts. kara forming her own string quartet with her buddies. kara being in the pep band. KARA BEING IN THE MARCHING BAND. DORKY KARA WITH GLASSES AND A HUGE TROMBONE. MAYBE A TRUMPET IDK. OMG KARA DANVERS, BASSOON PLAYER EXTRAORDINAIRE. kara slaying it at karaoke so hard that she’s not allowed back until she learns that karaoke is for fuNSIES and not for taLENTED PEOple kar a stoppppPPP. kara being That Kid that makes all the statewide festivals and competitions. kara not being in it for the glory but for the discipline, the physical balance and strain it takes her to master her craft and this makes her stand out but not in a bad way but in an inspiring way. kara rising to the top bc she practices for herself, because music is an escape like it is for a lot of kids, but especially for her.

also: kara applying her music theory knowledge from krypton to western styles of music???? im??? is it like atonal music or do they have notes that the human ear can’t pick up? what are the scales like/modes?? i don’t read the comics and i have no knowledge on the superman lore but if someone knows pleaSE SHARE. kara likes atonal music bc it’s fun to follow. kara missing krypton’s instruments and subconsciously choosing her earth instruments based on what she remembers from krypton, what feels familiar. kara liking certain pop songs on the radio because the modes are similar to a hymn she heard when she was little. kara getting lost in the dazzle of theatre bc the storylines about going home and finding one’s true self hit something deep within her. kara and music. kara and the fine arts, finding a different type of strength.

also one last thing for all you music nerds out there: don’t think about how ungodly fast she’d be at part writing and finding errors. or how she’d ace all the aural skills parts of theory exams. kara gets a music minor in college in theory and composition and it’s a breeze ok ok im done this was too much fun omg.