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cinnamanz · 3 months ago

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✦ ─── 𝓣rouble , 𝓓aniela 𝓐vanzini i know you felt something too.

─── 𝓣he annual sunnyvale vs. shadyside football game is always a disaster—violence, chaos, and spilled blood. but this year, when you laid eyes on daniela avanzini across the field, you don’t expect to fall for the woman—sunnyvale’s golden girl and the new cheer captain. she’s taken, off-limits, and from the wrong side of town. luckily, you’ve never been one to follow the rules. and hey, who were you to deny a challenge?

❝𝓯orbidden from the beginnin', i saw her there, up there. 𝓫een like that since i met her, they said i couldn't have her.❞

౨ৎ 𝓹airing. cheerleader!daniela avanzini x bandkid!f!reader ౨ৎ 𝓰enre. fluff wc. 5738 (IM SORRY I YAPPED AND ACCIDENTALLY DRAGGED IT😭😭😭) a/n. this was lowk all over the place and yes ik this isnt what frank's trouble means but lets pretend for one minute okay cause this song fits the plot sb🙏 based this off the little rivalry from fear street cs it made it easier for me to actually have sumn to base it on. ALSO MY BAD FOR YAPPING IN THIS FIC. layout inspired asf by @ninguitar bro ur layouts r bomb asf never die blud💯 WE MISS YOU FRANK COME BACK HOME PLEASE😭😭😭 also i mightve kinda lowk gotten sidetracked from the og plot like i usually do so js ignore that pls THANK YOU��🙏 NOT PROOFREAD BTW😿

❝𝔀ay out of my league, i never believed it. 𝓰otta get her heart, i gotta make her mine.❞

"UGH, I’M GONNA SHOOT THOSE SUNNYVALE IDIOTS." chaewon grumbled beside you, voice thick with frustration. she adjusted her cheerleader uniform, fingers tugging at the pom-pom attached to her hand with a huff, her face twisted in an annoyed frown as she glared toward the sunnyvale side.

she shifted quickly, bumping into yunjin who mirrored her expression with a roll of her eyes and a sigh. both of them, in perfect sync, looked ready to explode.

"seriously," chaewon muttered, "i can’t believe they pulled that stunt again. they don’t get it—we’re here to win." she tugged the clasp tighter, her anger palpable.

yunjin crossed her arms, jaw tight. "they think they can always get away with this. not this time." she shot a glare at the sunnyvale fans, still jeering.

you scoffed, shaking your head. their optimism stung, but it didn’t change anything. you glanced at kazuha, absently fiddling with her hat. she sighed, furrowed brow, already worn out before the game even began.

"let’s be serious," you muttered, voice sharp. "we’ll lose, like always. they cheat, we lose, and no one bats an eye." the words felt bitter, but true. it was the same story every year.

the air thickened with frustration. no matter how hard the team fought, sunnyvale would pull some underhanded move, and the town would be left with nothing but the sting of defeat.

kazuha’s gaze flickered to the field briefly, fingers tightening on her hat. you weren’t the only one who knew how this would end. it wasn’t about whether you’d lose—it was how much damage they’d do before the game even began.

“hey, am i tripping or is that asshole alison gone?” chaewon asked, her voice laced with confusion as she scanned the crowd, squinting to spot the familiar face that usually irked her.

yunjin side-eyed chaewon, eyes narrowing as she took in the empty space where alison would usually be. “holy shit, i think you might be right,” she said, her voice almost disbelieving. “did she finally quit? or is she hiding somewhere?”

before chaewon could respond, sakura appeared beside yunjin, walking up with eunchae. she gave them both a knowing nod, her tone casual but with an edge of satisfaction. “i heard she quit a week before the game and got replaced. no one even bothered to tell us until today.”

yunjin and chaewon exchanged a relieved look, the tension in their shoulders easing. “good riddance,” yunjin mumbled under her breath, her lips curling into a small, victorious smile. chaewon chuckled, shaking her head.

"who’s her replacement though?" you asked, furrowing your brows as your eyes scanned the field, searching for any signs of the new addition.

“oh, y’know daniela avanzini? the mayor’s daughter?” sakura replied casually, her gaze drifting across the field. “she’s replaced alison, from what i gathered from yena.”

“i still can’t believe she left us,” chaewon grumbled, her voice thick with irritation. you could tell she hadn’t quite let go of the betrayal. your eyes continued to flick across the other side of the field, trying to pick out any unfamiliar faces among the crowd.

“wait, what does she look like?” you asked, still scanning for someone who might match sakura’s description.

“the latina one with her hair dyed blonde,” sakura said, pausing as if she were searching the field herself. “you’ll spot her standing with her asshole of a boyfriend.” she added with a knowing look. “they’re the ones practically glued to each other.”

you shifted your focus, eyes narrowing as you spotted the girl standing in the middle of the group, her hair almost glowing under the stadium lights. it didn’t take long to identify her—daniela, the mayor’s daughter, standing right next to a tall guy with a smug look on his face.

from across the field, she stands there like a dream—daniela. her blonde-dyed hair shimmers in the light, catching every flicker of the lights and casting a halo around her. it’s like she doesn’t even realize how effortlessly she pulls everyone’s attention, how her presence shifts the energy of the entire place.

you can hear her laugh, light and musical, cutting through the noise of sunnyvale’s own marching band. it’s soft, almost like a secret, yet somehow it fills the space around her. she stands so casually beside him, yet there’s something so magnetic about her, like the world just seems to bend around her, to gravitate toward her without effort.

and then, your eyes meet. just for a second, but it feels like an eternity. time slows, the stadium noise fades, and all you can see is her—those eyes, full of curiosity and something else, something playful, pulling you in.

yunjin glanced at you, noticing the sudden silence that blanketed the six of you, eyes roving all over your face before her face fell, and her palm met her face. “y/n, you can’t be serious.” she knew you too well.

gaze still trained on the latina who looked away from the other side of the field, you’d only snapped back to earth when yunjin shoved you hard enough to bump into the person in front of you, a hurried, hushed apology slipping past your lips. “fuck you, she’s pretty.”

chaewon eyed the interaction before a dramatic gasp fell from her lips, clutching her pom-poms to her chest. “no, absolutely not. she’s a sunnyvale brat!”

“please,” an exasperated sigh left your lips, a smirk already curling at the corners. “it’s not her fault she was born in sunnyvale. besides, i’m pretty sure she’d swing my way if she saw how hot i am.”

an amused laugh left sakura’s lips while the other three’s expressions were the complete opposite, eunchae nodding at the back in agreement with your words. “why the dude in the sky ever gave you this much confidence, i’ll never know.”

you gave yunjin’s shoulder a nudge, winking at her playfully. “watch carefully, jennifer. i’m gonna steal her from her boyfriend. give me a few weeks.”

and as your eyes darted back out into the field to zone in on your town’s football players trickling into the grass, you could’ve sworn the latina shot you one last look before pulling away from her boyfriend.

“camp nightwing, my fucking ass. camp nightmare, more like.”

“give it a chance, chae.” you’d mumbled, hauling your bags into your cabin, the girls following suit with their own bags in hand, dropping them on the floor promptly as chaewon practically collapsed onto the lower bunk, sprawled out on the sheets like a starfish.

"you only say that because yena told you daniela’d be here too. otherwise, you'd be just as miserable as i am.” she retorted with a huff, cheeks puffing up while yunjin nodded in agreement, walking past you to claim the top bunk and chucking her duffel bag onto the mattress.

“oh, give it a break. i need somethin’ to distract me while i’m in this dump-”

chaewon shrieks, the sound piercing and high-pitched as she sat up on the bed and ran towards the door, jumping towards yena who poked her head in through the doorway, stumbling back as she struggled to support chaewon’s weight. “dude, what the fuck.”

you groaned at the sight of the two already giggling like children, shaking your head as you started to unpack, drowning out the chatter until yunjin perked up beside you, her eyes widening. just as you were about to ask what happened, a sweet, unfamiliar voice travelled through the cabin.

“yena? sophia’s looking for you. she’s calling a meeting for all camp counselors and—oh, you must be chaewon? yena’s talked a lot about you.” you whipped your neck around. it was a surprise you didn’t get whiplash, eyes zeroing in on the latina that stood awkwardly outside the doorway, catching a small glimpse of chaewon tensing up and unwrapping herself from yena, taking a step back.

yena nodded in response, glancing at the two before gesturing. “chaewon, meet daniela. daniela, meet chaewon.”

daniela stuck a hand out, a rather awkward, crooked smile curling on her lips. “hi, nice to finally meet you.”

surprisingly, chaewon took the handshake, nodding with her lips pressed into a thin line. “nice to meet you too.” she’d mumbled, before quickly letting go after a few moments, acting like daniela’s touch had burnt her.

yena exchanged glances with you, shaking your head as she nodded in understanding, choosing to stop the interaction before a whole war breaks out in your cabin. “well, i’ll see you guys later. we can catch up then.”

chaewon had shut the door after the two had left, turning around with a gobsmacked expression. “out of all the people yena had daniela shake hands with, she chose chaewon.” sakura’s comment earned a laugh.

it was the fifth day of camp when your mere stares and glances at daniela from the sidelines suddenly turned into her standing in front of you with a pleading expression, though playful— something you’d never have expected from a sunnyvale resident to give to a shadysider. her eyes, usually sharp and calculating bore into yours wide-eyed and glossy, and fuck, why does she remind you of a puppy now?

she blinks up at you expectantly, and wait a second, what did she want again?

to say you were sidetracked by this absolute beauty asking you to do god-knows-what would be an understatement, with the way your grip loosened around the plates you were cleaning after dinner, slipping from your hands if it weren’t for her voice pulling you back down to earth. “y/n?”

she knew your name? you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from her and back to the dishes you were tasked to clean, two more plates till you were finished. “uh, sorry. what were you asking again?”

daniela doesn’t pay much attention to your demeanour, beaming beside you. “i was asking you if you could possibly light up the campfire?”

your brows furrowed. the campfire? wouldn’t there be another camp counselor in charge of that? you glanced back at her as you finished the last plate, and with the way that she’d practically shapeshifted her eyes into that of a begging puppy’s, you were more than a hundred percent sure that she could ask you to do anything and you’d oblige more than happily.

“uh, sure. got a match?” she grimaces at the words that slipped from your lips, shaking her head.

“yeah, that’s the thing. you gotta light it from scratch. that’s why i asked you, actually. yena told me you were a girl scout and that you knew how to make fire.” her words pulled out a dreaded groan from your throat, leaning your hip onto the end of the counter as your eyes shut briefly at the mention.

“ugh, please don’t remind me of that.” your pained expression had her smile growing, amused.

“i think it’s cute—”

“let’s start that campfire.” you’d cut her off before she could say anything else, the tips of your ears already bright red as you walked past her, the latina trailing behind you. seriously, this is the first interaction that you’re having, and she already pulls that shit on you? you were not god’s strongest soldier. at all.

you grabbed a twig next to the campfire as you kneeled beside it and placed the twig on top of the dry leaves, rubbing the pointed end of the stick onto the leaves until black smoke started to erupt, giving it a little oxygen and watching it spread quickly around the campfire, wood crackling and spitting out red embers.

daniela stood a few steps away, leaning casually against a nearby tree, but her gaze never left you. there was something so effortless in the way you worked, your movements confident and smooth, as if starting fires were just second nature to you. the way you knelt, the slight flex of your muscles as you arranged the wood just so—it all made you look so... capable. so in control.

her breath caught for a second, a warmth rising in her chest that had nothing to do with the fire. she didn’t even realize she was smiling until she caught herself. your quiet determination, your ability to turn a few sticks into something powerful, was somehow the most magnetic thing about you. there was a raw, understated strength in you, and daniela couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“you’re good at that,” daniela finally said, voice soft, as if she were careful not to interrupt the rhythm you’d fallen into.

you glanced up briefly, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before a small, meek smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "thanks," you replied, focus unbreaking, but the slight quirk in your expression told daniela she knew exactly what was going through your mind.

"no, seriously," daniela continued, stepping a little closer, her voice a little lower, "it's... kind of impressive." there was something in her tone now, something deeper, that made you look up at her with a raised eyebrow.

daniela didn't shy away, meeting your gaze with a warmth that mirrored the flames now crackling between them. it wasn’t just the fire that had her attention. it was you—everything about you, from the way you worked with purpose, to the way you seemed to make everything look effortless. and, maybe, just maybe, that was a little too attractive.

“thank you—”

“can you two stop undressing each other with your eyes for a quick second and help me out here? i need more hands.” yena appeared out of thin air, a disgusted look on her face as she crossed her arms, chaewon following behind her as she’d mirrored the exact expression the woman beside her had the moment her gaze fell on the two of you.

“are you incapable of being normal, choi yena?”

it wasn’t until the next week that you noticed daniela hovering around you like a watchdog—always lingering nearby, arms crossed, brows furrowed like she was a detective tailing a suspect. she wasn’t even subtle about it. every time you so much as breathed, her sharp eyes flicked to you, narrowed in suspicion, as if you were plotting some grand crime right under her nose.

it was almost funny. almost.

yena, however, found it downright hilarious.

“so like, you went from admiring y/n to hating her?” yena suddenly popped up behind daniela, munching on a bag of chips she’d somehow smuggled in. she extended the bag toward the latina, who shook her head without even looking, too busy burning holes into the back of your head with her stare.

“who said i hated her?”

yena scoffed, mouth full. “dude, you’ve literally been staring at her like she personally slaughtered your entire bloodline. ask anyone.”

before daniela could retort, yena’s eyes lit up as she spotted manon walking past, her delicate fingers curling around the ghanaian’s wrist to pull her close.

“yo, manz,” yena called, jerking her chin toward daniela with a smirk. “hasn’t she been glaring daggers at y/n?”

manon hummed thoughtfully, lips pursed in faux contemplation before her mouth stretched into a slow, knowing grin. “y/n… oh, the cute one from shadyside?” she teased, her amusement only growing when daniela shot her a glare. “yeah, poor girl. hasn’t done a thing wrong and already gained herself a hater.”

daniela’s frown deepened, arms crossing tighter over her chest as she let out an exasperated breath. “okay, no—i was not glaring at her,” she huffed. “i was just… making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. y’know, since she’s from shadyside. and—”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. like you ever cared about that bullshit.” yena tutted, cutting her off with a dramatic wave of her hand. “let me stop you right there. because while you’re busy playing hall monitor with y/n, your actual problem is throwing hands outside.”

she pointed her chin toward the commotion outside camp, where daniela’s boyfriend was in the middle of a full-blown meltdown, shoving people like a rabid raccoon and flailing his arms around as if he was possessed.

manon groaned at the sight. “please, for the love of god, go handle that before mt. sophia erupts and we’re all dead.”

daniela clenched her jaw, eyes flickering from the scene outside to you, who were now happily minding your business like you weren’t the supposed criminal she’d been tailing all week.

she sighed. christ.

it was the third week when daniela approached you again, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt and dragging you away from the chaotic mix of shadysiders and sunnyvalers gathered in a circle, shouting over each other in some ridiculous game she hadn’t even bothered to figure out.

her perfectly-sculpted brows furrowed in a deep pinch as she pulled you along with a little more force than necessary. you barely had time to react before yena stepped right in front of the two of you, arms crossed like a bouncer at the entrance of a club. “now, now. where do you two think you’re going?”

daniela let out the most dramatic eye roll known to mankind, while you perked up behind her, a small, playful smirk dancing on your lips as you shot her a look that practically screamed, ‘leave it.’

yena, naturally, ignored it. because why would she ever leave something this juicy alone?

“it’s gonna be dark soon,” yena added, raising an accusatory brow at daniela.

daniela scoffed. “please, we’re just going to fetch firewood for the bonfire tonight.”

you blinked, tilting your head. “we are?”

daniela’s head snapped toward you, briefly faltering for half a second before composing herself. “yes,” she said, more forcefully this time, as if sheer conviction alone would make it true.

yena squinted between the two of you, clearly skeptical, before finally stepping aside. “whatever, just don’t get murdered,” she muttered.

daniela took that as her cue to bolt, practically yanking you behind her like a dog on a leash as she sped-walked toward the woods.

“wait—where are we actually going?” you asked, half-laughing as you stumbled along.

“i told you, we’re picking up firewood for tonight’s bonfire,” she repeated, like that somehow clarified everything.

you mused for a second, feigning deep confusion, then suspicion, before letting a teasing smile creep across your lips. “wait, you’re not bringing me out here to kill me, right?”

daniela huffed, barely sparing you a glance. “oh, please.” a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she added, “if i wanted to kill you, you’d be six feet under by now.”

“hot.”

she faltered mid-step. you grinned.

for the next twenty minutes, the two of you wandered through the clearing, picking up dry branches and twigs—well, you were picking up branches and twigs. daniela, on the other hand, was sneaking glances at you like it was her full-time job.

her gaze would linger a little too long when you bent down to grab a log, eyes flickering over the way your shirt clung to your back. she’d watch, mesmerized, as you absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, the curve of your lips doing things to her. and every time you caught her staring, you’d shoot her a knowing smirk that sent her into a spiral.

“y’know, if you keep staring at me like that, i might start thinking you like what you see,” you mused, tossing a stick onto the small pile you had gathered.

daniela scoffed, crossing her arms as if that would mask the warmth creeping up her neck. “i don’t.”

you hummed, not even trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “whatever you say, watchdog.”

she scowled. “you really don’t shut up, do you?”

“nope,” you grinned. “but don’t worry, i’m starting to think you like that about me.” you murmured, gaining confidence by every second that passed.

daniela groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she were suffering, but the ghost of a smile threatened to betray her.

before you could tease her further, a sudden, ear-splitting scream rang through the clearing.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!”

you nearly dropped the entire pile of wood as sophia, the head camp counselor, emerged from the trees like an angry cryptid, her hands on her hips and her expression one of pure exasperation.

daniela, ever the composed one—though she was internally screaming at getting caught—, simply crossed her arms. “fetching firewood,” she said flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

sophia looked seconds away from combusting. “THERE’S ALREADY TOO MUCH FIREWOOD. LIKE. WAY TOO MUCH. WE HAVE A WHOLE DAMN PILE BEHIND THE CABINS.”

you pursed your lips, glancing at daniela. she blinked. “…oh.”

sophia exhaled like she had just aged five years. “drop the sticks. go back to camp. now.”

daniela, ever the picture of grace, immediately turned on her heel and started walking back, as if she hadn’t just dragged you all the way out here for absolutely nothing.

you, however, lagged behind for a second, shaking your head with a chuckle before calling out, “well, at least we got some quality bonding time out of it, right, watchdog?”

daniela flipped you off over her shoulder.

but, even in the dim light of the sun setting, you could see the way her lips curled upward, just slightly.

the night air was cool against your skin as you stepped out of the cabin, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your feet the only sound in the stillness. you hadn’t been able to sleep—mind buzzing with thoughts, the stuffy warmth of the cabin making it impossible to get comfortable—so you figured a walk might help. maybe some fresh air. maybe—

your eyes caught on a figure near the dimly burning campfire, hunched slightly, shoulders rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. daniela.

she was sitting on one of the logs surrounding the fire pit, absentmindedly poking at the embers with a stick, watching as little sparks floated up into the night like tiny fireflies. her expression was unreadable, lit only by the soft, flickering glow.

something about it made you pause.

you weren’t sure what compelled you forward, but before you knew it, you were sinking onto the log beside her, close enough to feel the residual warmth of the fire, but not quite touching.

daniela barely reacted, only glancing at you briefly before returning her gaze to the flames.

“couldn’t sleep?” you murmured.

she huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “not really.”

silence settled between you, comfortable but heavy, like there was something waiting to be said. you watched the way she prodded at the embers, her usual sharp demeanor dulled at the edges, almost hesitant.

then, finally—

“i broke up with him,” she said, voice even, but lacking its usual bite.

you blinked, caught off guard for a moment. “your boyfriend?”

daniela let out another humorless laugh, nodding. “yeah.”

holy shit.

you schooled your expression, keeping your face neutral, but internally? you were fucking cheering.

“wow,” you said instead, keeping your tone light but careful. “that’s… a pretty big deal.”

she shrugged, eyes still fixed on the fire. “should’ve done it sooner. he was a jerk.”

there was a weight to her words, a quiet frustration, but more than that—relief.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, watching her carefully. “why now?”

daniela let out a slow breath, tapping the stick against the charred logs. “i don’t know,” she admitted. “maybe i got tired of pretending. maybe i realized that… i wasn’t really happy. or—” she hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stick. “—maybe i was just waiting for the right moment.”

you tilted your head slightly. “and this was the right moment?”

her lips pressed together, like she was debating whether or not to say something, before she finally turned her head to look at you. really look at you.

there was something different in her gaze—something softer, less guarded.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “i think it was.”

your chest tightened, warmth blooming in a way that had nothing to do with the fire.

you didn’t push for more. didn’t tease, didn’t pry. instead, you simply nudged your knee against hers, offering the smallest of smiles. “for what it’s worth, i think you made the right choice. i saw him always fighting with those camp counselors just to see you.”

daniela stared at you for a moment, then exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “of course you would say that.”

“what? i’m being sincere!” you placed a hand over your heart in mock offense. “i can be nice, y’know.”

she hummed, unconvinced, but her lips curled upward ever so slightly.

the two of you sat there for a while, the fire crackling softly between you, the night stretching quiet and still around the campsite. neither of you rushed to leave. neither of you wanted to.

and later, when you finally dragged yourselves back to the cabins, a quiet understanding settled between you—something unspoken but felt.

something that, after that night, made the space between you feel smaller than ever before.

it started off slow. so slow daniela barely noticed it at first.

the way her eyes lingered on you longer than they should’ve. the way she found herself gravitating toward you more and more, standing closer, brushing shoulders, stealing glances when she thought you wouldn’t notice. the way her stomach twisted whenever you smiled—at her.

it wasn’t like she hadn’t always looked at you. from the moment you stepped foot in sunnyvale wearing that ridiculous dark blue band uniform and met her eyes across the field, daniela had been watching.

but it was different now. before, her stares had been filled with scrutiny, laced with the tiniest bit of frustration at how easily you got under her skin. and now they were filled with something else entirely. something she wasn’t ready to name.

but then—

it was the last week of camp when everything clicked.

the bonfire crackled in the middle of the campsite, a golden glow illuminating the circle of campers gathered around, their faces alight with warmth and laughter. the air was thick with the scent of burning wood, mingled with the distant scent of pine and the lingering traces of marshmallows and chocolate.

and you.

you sat on a log, guitar resting against your lap, fingers plucking at the strings with practiced ease. the opening notes of a song filled the air, soft and familiar, and as soon as your voice joined the melody, daniela felt something shift in her chest.

"well, i guess you'd say…"

her breath caught.

"what can make me feel this way?"

her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans, stomach twisting as your voice washed over her—gentle, soothing, captivating.

she couldn’t look away.

she wasn’t the only one enraptured—everyone else sat silently, listening intently, swaying slightly to the rhythm—but it felt like the moment belonged only to the two of you. like nothing else existed outside of the glow of the fire, outside of the space between you.

and then you looked at her.

your eyes met across the fire, something soft and knowing dancing in your gaze, and daniela’s heart stopped.

"my girl, my girl, my girl.”

she swallowed hard.

“talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl.”

because that was the moment.

the moment she realized she was completely, hopelessly, utterly in love with you.

not in the way she’d tried to convince herself she wasn’t. not in the way that was casual, fleeting, something she could shake off or push aside.

no—this was real. heavy and warm and terrifying in the best way possible.

her lips parted slightly, breath uneven, her entire body frozen in place as the song continued, the words wrapping around her like a confession she hadn’t even said out loud yet.

"that's all i can talk about is my girl."

you smiled. a tiny, knowing thing.

daniela looked away, suddenly overwhelmed, her hands clenching into fists to steady herself. but it was too late. she couldn’t unfeel it, couldn’t ignore the way her heart ached at the sight of you, couldn’t pretend this wasn’t real.

she was in love with you.

and for the first time, she wasn’t afraid to admit it—to herself, at least.

the kitchen was quiet except for the faint clatter of dishes and the distant murmur of campers outside. daniela wiped her hands on a dishtowel, tossing it onto the counter with a little too much force. yena, leaning against the sink, watched her with an insufferable smirk.

"so," yena drawled, crossing her arms, "you gonna say it, or do i have to spell it out for you?"

daniela shot her a glare. "say what?"

yena scoffed, shaking her head. "oh, come on. that you're in love with y/n."

daniela froze.

yena grinned, clearly savoring the moment. "you act like she’s just some shadysider you have to tolerate, but you’ve been following her around like a lost puppy. you literally sat through her entire song at the bonfire last night, staring at her like she hung the damn moon. and don’t even get me started on the way you look at her when she talks—like you're trying not to combust."

daniela scowled. "i do not look at her like that."

"oh, please," yena snorted. "you're like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time."

daniela groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "fine. okay. maybe i like her."

yena gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "maybe? babe, you're in love. in love love.”

daniela rolled her eyes. "oh, shut up."

"nah, this is huge," yena continued, grinning like she just won the lottery. "i mean, the infamous 'i don't need anyone that’s why i broke up with my boyfriend like i did with the others' daniela? falling for a shadysider? this is better than a romcom."

daniela huffed, turning back to the sink, hoping to ignore yena and the smug energy radiating off of her. but then—

"oh."

daniela froze.

yena’s eyes flickered past her shoulder, widening slightly before her smirk returned full force. “well. my cue to leave.” she grabbed her towel and promptly bolted out of the kitchen, leaving daniela alone to face the one person she really didn’t want hearing that conversation.

you.

you stood in the doorway, looking completely stunned, like you weren’t sure if you’d walked in on a confession or a crime scene, before leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted slightly in amusement. there was a flicker of surprise in your eyes, sure, but it was the kind that faded fast—like you were already settling into the idea, getting comfortable with it.

daniela’s heart was racing. she gripped the counter, trying to ground herself. “how much of that did you hear?”

you hummed, pretending to think. “enough to know that you think i hung the damn moon.”

daniela groaned, running a hand down her face. “kill me now.”

“mm, no can do. i kinda like knowing you have a crush on me.”

daniela gaped at you, and you took slow, measured steps forward, that teasing glint in your eyes growing.

"you know, i was so sure you hated me at first," you mused, tapping a finger against your chin. "but now—"

daniela glared, cheeks burning. "don’t."

"—now, i'm thinking you just didn’t know how to handle your feelings," you finished, grinning. "poor thing."

daniela exhaled sharply, pressing her lips into a thin line. great. just great. she wasn’t even supposed to tell you, let alone have you overhear it in the most humiliating way possible.

silence stretched between you, thick and unsteady.

you took a small step forward. “so… you like me?”

daniela swallowed. she could lie. brush it off. say it was nothing. but looking at you now—playful smile and teasing eyes full of mirth, the way you didn’t look completely horrified—she couldn’t.

so she inhaled deeply and nodded. “yeah. i do.” daniela let out a slow breath, feeling something warm settle in her chest the more you looked at her. your eyes contorting into one of adoration now. “so… what now?”

you smiled, still playful but genuine. “well, usually this is the part where we kiss.”

daniela’s breath caught. her eyes flickered to your lips before she could stop herself. “oh.”

you tilted your head slightly, a soft invitation, no pressure, just you. and for once, daniela didn’t overthink it. she just leaned in.

the kiss was slow, tentative—like testing uncharted waters—but when you sighed softly against her lips, daniela melted. she pulled you closer, her fingers curling at the hem of your shirt, your hands finding her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

the kitchen smelled like dish soap and pinewood, the campfire outside still crackling in the distance, but all daniela could focus on was the way your lips moved against hers, the way your hands felt warm against her skin, the way everything—everything—felt right.

when you finally pulled away, you were grinning, eyes crinkling at the edges.

“guess that settles it,” you murmured, eyes flickering between her lips and her gaze. “so worth the wait and dealing with that ex of yours who kept popping in and begging for you to take him back.”

daniela huffed out a small laugh, her forehead resting against yours and pushing you lightly, but you just laughed, grabbing her hand before she could pull away completely.

"and they said shadysiders couldn't have sunnyvalers. guess i'm just built different. i'm the ultimate sig—"

"shut that mouth if you want to keep me."

"ooh, demanding. i like that."

bonus!

yunjin gasped dramatically, a hand clasped up to her chest while chaewon stood frozen beside her with a horrified expression. “you are not dating her. you’re fucking with me. a sunnyvaler? you could do better.”

you scoffed. “she is better.”

“i mean, you’re a shadysider and she’s a sunnyvaler. not to mention, she’s the mayor’s daughter! how the hell are you going to make it work?!” chaewon exclaimed.

you waved the concern away as yena munched on chips at your bed. “oh please, you guys talk about that like it was supposed to stop me. besides, have you guys even checked the news? apparently, they’re gonna join sunnyvale and shadyside. so… what’s the problem now? i’ve got a rich gorgeous, goddess of a girlfriend and we’re no longer gonna be poor like we are. quality month.”

chaewon collapsed face first on the cabin floor.

“i told y’all, she’s gonna be my baby mama.” “i’m throwing you into the lake.” “wait, i can’t swim!”

— please do not repost, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way without permission. thank you! xx

masterlist.

#cinnamanz's works .ᐟ #cinnamanz's navi .ᐟ #divider creds—strangergraphics #katseye #katseye x reader #wlw #katseye x female reader #gxg #daniela avanzini katseye #daniela avanzini x female reader #daniela avanzini x reader #daniela x female reader #daniela katseye #daniela x reader #daniela avanzini

511 notes · View notes

numbpill · 1 month ago

Text

========================================================

[tutorial: build your own neocities/nekoweb page]

========================================================

a beginner's guide for making your very own home on the indie web—retro, personal, weird, and 100% yours.

this ain’t an average wix, squarespace, or tiktok aesthetic.

we’re talking full html/css with soul and attitude.

[ prerequisites ]

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

> an idea

> basic text editor (vscode, notepad++, or even notepad)

> account on https://neocities.org or https://nekoweb.org

> some gifs or tiles you love (dig deep or make your own)

> optional: image host or gif repo (or self-host everything)

[ feeling overwhelmed? read this. ]

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

you do *not* need to know everything.

html is not a mountain. it's a garden.

you plant one tag. then another. then a style. then a button.

you can build your site piece by piece.

and every piece is a portal to somewhere personal.

you are allowed to make broken pages.

you are allowed to use templates.

you are allowed to start over as many times as you want.

this is *your* world. you control the weird.

[ step 1: create an account ]

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

> neocities: https://neocities.org

> nekoweb: https://nekoweb.org

this is where you upload your files and see your site live.

[ step 2: your first file - index.html ]

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

make a new file: `index.html`

basic starter:

<html>

<head>

<title>my weird little corner</title>

</head>

<body>

<h1>welcome to the void</h1>

<p>this is my page. it’s strange. like me.</p>

</body>

</html>

> upload to the dashboard

> boom. you’re live at

https://yoursite.neocities.org

or https://nekoweb.org/u/yoursite

[ step 3: add a style sheet - style.css ]

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

create a file called `style.css` and upload it.

here’s some nostalgic magic:

body {

background: url('tile.gif');

color: lime;

font-family: "Courier New", monospace;

text-shadow: 1px 1px 0 black;

}

img {

image-rendering: pixelated;

}

marquee {

font-size: 20px;

color: magenta;

}

link it in your html and the vibes activate.

[ step 4: decorate it like a haunted usb ]

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

> use <marquee> for chaos scrolls

> embed gifs from https://gifcities.org/

> steal buttons from https://cyber.dabamos.de/88x31/

> set up a guestbook at https://www.smartgb.com/

> loop audio with <audio autoplay loop>

> add fake errors, 90s web lore, random link lists

[ step 5: resources, themes, and comfort ]

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

> templates & layouts: https://numbpilled-themes.tumblr.com

> glitchy gifs & buttons: https://glitchcat.neocities.org/resources

> layout builder: https://sadgrl.online/projects/layout-builder/

> free tiled backgrounds: https://backgrounds.neocities.org/

> beginner html intro: https://www.w3schools.com/html/

> pixel fonts & cyber assets: https://fontstruct.com/

remember:

you don't need to know js. you don't need to be a coder.

you just need a mood, a direction, a dream.

the html will follow.

[ bonus concept: shrine pages ]

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

> a page just for one character you love

> a room to house digital fragments of your identity

> embed quotes, music, images like altars

> call it shrine.html and link it from your homepage

[ closing mantra ]

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

you are not here to be optimized.

you are not a brand.

you are a ghost inside the machine,

carving your initials into the silicon void.

welcome to Your website.

========================================================

294 notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year ago

Text

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

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Ex-Meta employee Madelyn Machado recently posted a TikTok video claiming that she was getting paid $190,000 a year to do nothing. Another Meta employee, also on TikTok, posted that “Meta was hiring people so that other companies couldn’t have us, and then they were just kind of like hoarding us like Pokémon cards.” Over at Google, a company known to have pioneered the modern tech workplace, one designer complained of spending 40 percent of their time on “the inefficien[cy] overhead of simply working at Google.” Some report spending all day on tasks as simple as changing the color of a website button. Working the bare minimum while waiting for stock to vest is so common that Googlers call it “resting and vesting.” In an anonymous online poll on how many “focused hours of work” software engineers put in each day, 71 percent of the over four thousand respondents claimed to work six hours a day or less, while 12 percent said they did between one and two hours a day. During the acute phase of the Covid-19 pandemic, it became common for tech workers to capitalize on all this free time by juggling multiple full-time remote jobs. According to the Wall Street Journal, many workers who balance two jobs do not even hit a regular forty-hour workload for both jobs combined. One software engineer reported logging between three and ten hours of actual work per week when working one job, with the rest of his time spent on pointless meetings and pretending to be busy. My own experience supports this trend: toward the end of my five-year tenure as a software engineer for Microsoft, I was working fewer than three hours a day. And of what little code I produced for them, none of it made any real impact on Microsoft’s bottom line—or the world at large. For much of this century, optimism that technology would make the world a better place fueled the perception that Silicon Valley was the moral alternative to an extractive Wall Street—that it was possible to make money, not at the expense of society but in service of it. In other words, many who joined the industry did so precisely because they thought that their work would be useful. Yet what we’re now seeing is a lot of bullshit. If capitalism is supposed to be efficient and, guided by the invisible hand of the market, eliminate inefficiencies, how is it that the tech industry, the purported cradle of innovation, has become a redoubt of waste and unproductivity?

#meta #google #silicon valley #bullshit jobs #Innovation

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morgan-va · 4 months ago

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im so sorry to busy u with more reqs but i js. Need to get the idea worms out of my head. They’ve been infesting since i haven’t seen any CONTENT of my MAN…

anyways, rocky rickaby x reader who has ALOT of experience in like, bootlegging/crime?? I can imagine reader being more of the levelheaded one, similar to mordecai with seraphine and nico. Hc or oneshot is fine for me!!! Again, thank you sm for taking my reqs !!!

I need more requests so its okay!

Rocky Rickaby x Experienced Bootlegger GN!Reader Headcanons

Masterlist

From the moment Rocky meets you, he’s utterly awestruck. You’re the picture of composure and competence, handling every situation with ease and precision. To him, you’re like something out of the pulpy crime flick he’s seen on the silver screen.

Your calm demeanor is a stark contrast to Rocky’s chaos, and he finds it both intimidating and incredibly attractive.

“So cool under pressure,” he’d marvel after watching you talk your way out of a sticky situation with police. “If I tried that, I’d probably end up accidentally confessing to five other crimes I didn’t commit!” (He absolutely committed them)

Rocky quickly becomes your biggest admirer, constantly bragging about your skills to anyone who will listen.

“You should’ve seen them, took down three armed guards without so much as a wrinkle in their coat! Incredible, I tell ya!”

Despite his tendency to be a bit of a disaster, you recognize Rocky’s value in a crew. His quick thinking and ability to improvise have saved your neck more than once, even if his plans make you roll your eyes half the time.

Rocky sees you as a mentor of sorts and often peppers you with questions about how you stay so calm under pressure.

“What’s the secret? Is it a breathing technique? A special kind of whiskey? Oh, don’t tell me, it’s meditation, isn’t it?”

“It’s experience, Rocky. And not thinking about how everything could go wrong every second of the job. Maybe try that.”

“…So not whiskey?”

You’re often the one cleaning up after his messes, whether it’s smoothing things over with angry clients or making sure his wild plans don’t leave too much collateral damage. While it can be frustrating, you also secretly admire his audacity.

Rocky loves testing your composure, purposely throwing absurd ideas into the mix just to see if he can make you react. He’s secretly thrilled whenever he manages to make you smirk or raise an eyebrow.

The rest of the Lackadaisy crew respects you immensely and often turns to you to keep Rocky in check. It’s an unspoken rule that you’re the “unofficial babysitter” for the violinist.

“If anyone can keep Rocky alive during a job, it’s you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an admission of how much of a liability he is.”

Rocky is constantly trying to impress you, whether it’s through his (questionable) driving skills, dramatic storytelling, or attempts at being stealthy. Even when he fails spectacularly, you can’t help but find his enthusiasm endearing.

On jobs, you make an excellent team. Your levelheadedness balances out Rocky’s reckless creativity, and you’ve developed a mutual understanding of how to play to each other’s strengths. It’s like a dance, with you as the steady lead and Rocky providing the unexpected flourishes (in the form of nearly blowing you up for the tenth time (today)).

While you’re used to operating alone, Rocky’s presence has grown on you over time. His humor and unshakeable optimism bring a lightness to the work that you didn’t realize you were missing.

Rocky is endlessly fascinated by your past and loves hearing stories about your earlier exploits, even if they’re told in your usual no-nonsense manner.

“And then what happened? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“We made the delivery and got paid, Rocky. Not every story ends in explosions.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if it did?”

He’s surprisingly sweet when it comes to you, often going out of his way to make your life easier in small ways—like carrying the heavier crates (Read: making someone else carry them) or fixing something you didn’t have time to deal with. It’s his way of showing how much he respects and appreciates you.

He’s not above making dramatic declarations about your partnership, often comparing the two of you to legendary duos like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (to which you usually roll your eyes).

Over time, you find yourself softening toward Rocky, realizing that his chaos isn’t just entertaining but also oddly comforting. He brings a sense of unpredictability and joy to your life that you never expected to appreciate. And let’s face it, his laughter is a bit infectious.

While you may outwardly seem like the steady anchor to his whirlwind, the truth is, Rocky’s boundless energy and determination keep you grounded in their own way. Together, you’re an unstoppable—and unconventional—team.

#rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy #lackadaisy hcs #lackadaisy fanfic #lackadaisy fanfiction

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kradeelav · 9 months ago

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the tl;dr

IRON CROWN as a free comic is now off of wordpress and can be viewed by a neat, robust HTML/CSS/JS comic template called rarebit! effectively nothing has changed for the reader, beyond expecting a little more reliability of uptime over the years.

all comic pages and previously paywalled patreon posts can also be downloaded in this art dump for free, as mentioned in the new author's notes.

the long story:

When talking shop about site/platform moves under this handle, I think it's useful to realize that us (taboo) kink artists live in an actively adversarial internet now, compared to five years ago.

meaning that we have to live with an expectation that 99% of platforms (including registrars and hosting, let alone sns sites) will ban/kick us without warning. this might explain the overly cautious/defensive way we discuss technologies - weighing how likely (and easily) the tool can be used against us vs the perks.

for example: has a harassment mob bullied the platform owners into quietly dropping lolisho artists? trans artists? does the platform/technology have a clear, no-bullshit policy on drawn kink art (specifically third rail kinks like noncon)? does the platform have a long history of hosting r18 doujin artists/hentai publishers with no issue? does the company operate in a nation unfriendly to specific kinks (eg fashkink artists fundamentally incompatible with companies based in germany, when other kinks might be OK?). i talk with a few different groups of artists daily about the above.

but that gets tiring after a while! frankly, the only path that's becoming optimal long-term is (a) putting kink art on your personal site, and if possible, (b) self hosting the whole thing entirely, while (c) complementing your site with physical merch since it's much harder to destroy in one go.

with that said - I've been slowly re-designing all of my pages/sub-domains as compact 'bug out bags'. lean, efficiently packed with the essentials, and very easy to save and re-upload to a new host/registrar near instantly (and eventually, be friendly to self-hosting bandwidth costs since that's now a distant goal).

how does this look in theory, you ask?

zero dependencies. the whole IRON CROWN comic subdomain is three JS files, a few HTML files, one CSS file, and images. that's it.

no updates that can be trojan horse'd. I'm not even talking about malware though that's included; I'm talking about wordpress (owned by the same owners as tumblr cough) slipping in AI opt-outs in a plug-in that's turned on by default. I used to think wordpress was safe from these shenanigans because wordpress-as-a-CMS could be separate from wordpress-as-a-domain; I was wrong. they'll get you through updates.

robust reliability through the KISS principle. keep it simple stupid. malware/DDOS'ing has an infinitively harder time affecting something that doesn't have a login page/interactive forms. You can't be affected by an open source platform suddenly folding, because your "starter" template is contained files saved on your desktop (and hopefully multiple backups...). etc.

so how does this look in practice?

To be fair, you're often trading convenient new shiny UI/tools for a clunkier back-end experience. but i think it's a mistake to think your art site has to look like a MIT professor's page from 1999.

with IRON CROWN, I've effectively replicated it from a (quite good) comic template in wordpress to 98% of the same layout in pure HTML/CSS/JS via rarebit. Should rarebit's website go "poof", I've got the initial zip download of the template to re-use for other sites.

I frankly have a hard time recommending rarebit for an actively updating webcomic since you personally might be trading too many advantages like SEO tools, RSS feeds, etc away - but for a finished webcomic that you want to put in "cold storage" - it's amazing. and exactly what I needed here.

#not art #resource

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jscalzi · 5 months ago

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Publishers Weekly Review of When the Moon Hits Your Eye Is In

And it’s a good one, I’m delighted to say. The relevant excerpt for me: “[A] cleverly entertaining sci-fi romp… Scalzi’s ability to balance scathing satire with heartfelt optimism shines.” I’m shiny! The full review is here. Not anything particularly spoilery about it at this point. — JS

View On WordPress

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that-one-english-nerd · 1 year ago

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The Outsiders x EPIC : The Musical -

so i was listening to the new EPIC saga yesterday and naturally, because i can’t listen to music w/o relating it to my hyperfixations, i started thinking about the outsiders. specifically, i was listening to luck runs out and my friend and i were talking… and we were like “this song is so soda talking to darry about going to war,” so this sparked this post!

so i got to re-listening to the entirety of epic and was thinking how much it fits if soda were to genuinely survive the war but come back only a shell of himself… so this is what were going with.

(i will say before we even begin, i have limited knowledge on the vietnam war so if some of this is vague or inaccurate, forgive me)

i think there two ways you could picture this, a greek mythology au and realistic, vietnam war au. i was thinking, if we’re talking in reality standpoint, all the gods or even monsters are visions in soda’s mind (due to ptsd, other mental illness gained from war or physical injuries) as he’s traveling and committing more and more violence. is some of this a strench…? yes but this is js for kicks and giggles, humor me here lolol

either way, these are my assignments of characters. i need you to HEAR ME OUT (there’s explanations of songs under the list of characters) on these -

odysseus : soda

polites : steve

eurylochus : tim

zeus : dally

polyphemus : ……..bob

athena : darry

aeolus : cherry

circe : marcia

hermes : two-bit

penelope & telemachus : ponyboy & darry (these can be switched, doesn’t matter rlly)

calypso: sandy (…get it, cause calypso lives on an island)

poseidon : dally

tiersus : johnny (cause i HAD to include him somewhere)

song and character explanations under cut ~

song explanations :

the horse and the infant - i like to think that, while it was awful and so much worst than soda could of ever imagined, because of his constant optimism and general skills, he was someone many of his fellow soldiers looked up to. i’ll get into details when i get to luck runs out, but if we’re relating this specifically to epic, making him apart of the navy would work best (being all the time they spend traveling and at seas). anyways, therefore, overtime, due to his higher morale and just general skills, he gets a higher rank and a crew to care for. soda is rallying his crew for an attack, and thinking of who he was fighting for, ponyboy and darry.

now this is where it would differ from a greek mythology au, but just for the sake of making it easier on myself, this is the more realistic possibility. i like to think that being how in epic, this is the end of the trojan war, this would be a kind of flash forward, after soda had already been dealing w all this trauma. but, as i’ve mentioned, i like to envision dally‘s ghost (a vision soda has of him at least) as zeus, specifically before soda has to do something terrible to the enemy. dally is like, “you’re in a war man, just *do it*.”

for a less interesting but more realistic answer, you could say zeus was one of soda’s commanding officer or something but that’s less fun lolol

anyways, this is the beginning, as it is for odysseus, of soda completely losing his innocence.

just a man - (tw for child-related violence and war crimes) so, as it is in epic, you could picture this as an enemy leader’s son, and how this boy reminds soda of ponyboy in a way. this song is kinda self explanatory tho, soda takes this blow, and this guilt plagues his mind for the rest of the first act.

full speed ahead - so, with the vietnam war, there was an insaneeee draft process. and in relation to the story, those who were poor were more likely to be drafted than those who were going to college and able to pay tutition, being how they got an exemption from the draft. so i think the idea as tim of all people getting drafted and getting put under soda’s command (which is a shock to both of them) really interesting, being how we never really got to see their dynamic in the outsiders. so having tim, whose more on the ruthless side, as soda’s right hand and being more quick to violence makes sense to me. on the other hand, my favorite character headcanon, steve as polities. i think the idea of steve not giving a second thought to following soda into war makes a lot of sense, and being how soda had more of a responsibility on his shoulders, steve keeps more of his naiveness and “innocence” than soda does.

open arms - my stevepop heart loves this so much. over the time of war, soda became less and less like his normal self and steve knows that. he could always tell. so once they finally have time to themselves, he tries to remind soda of how life used to be, how there’s still good. the roles switch from soda normally being the optimistic one, reassuring everyone else, to steve doing the same for him. they mean sm to your honor :((

warrior of the mind - now, from a plot standpoint, i can fs see this as what soda pictures how darry would think of him now, or even how ponyboy would. soda kinda flashes back to their childhood, how both darry and soda were really close when they were kids, being how they both balanced each other out. but after their parents died, darry became a parental figure instead, athena-like you could say.

but ignoring plot, i think song really fits darry and ponyboy, espically with the “don’t disappoint me” and “he’s a warrior of the mind” because of ponyboy’s academic achievements.

polyphemus - now do i know how this would fit into the plot to be honest.. i just think the idea of bob (bob’s ghost if you will) or some soc showing up in soda’s path makes sense.

butttt once again, if you want something more realistic, you could make it someone on the enemy side.

survive - soda just seems like he’d be hella good with battle morale and strategy, what can i say? …also, as much as it breaks my heart, steve following soda into war and dying an early death makes sense but is equally as heartbreaking ;(

remember them - i think the slow fade-in near the beginning of the song gives very big soda energy. disassociating but then switching right back into gear (masking emotions for the sake of others) is something that comes natural to him. i also commented on this earlier but for as much as soda calls himself dumb, i think his street smarts are really good and being able to talk his way out of things or tricking people into believing lies is something he’s great at (which makes sense in context of the cyclops plot). plus the stupid decision of having mercy on…bob, a soc, an enemy, idfk, and then telling them his name makes more sense in the context of just losing steve and therefore making rash decisions because of this sudden lose.

my goodbye - soda seeming to “lose” darry’s positive view of him, at least in soda’s mind, because of all he had done and lost. this, of course, is simply what soda thinks darry would say if he was there. because of this, he pushes the “what would darry do?” mindset out of his head.

storm - not much to highlight in this song except for how soda is a badass captain™️

luck runs out - now of course, i keep mentioning this song as the beginning of this war au because while s.e. hinton technically said soda was drafted, i think it’s very possible that soda and his optimism view on life would easily be more swayed to propaganda to enlist rather than be drafted. plus, with becoming a soldier, a certain amount of money is given to you monthly (at least i think-). this, i think, is another pro to the idea of enlisting in soda’s mind because he wants to help better provide for his brothers.

but generally plot wise, soda taking on this positive mindset of “i can just go and ask for help” is almost a tribute to steve and what he wanted. but on the other hand, you have tim, who knows that not everyone is as welcome to help, especially after dally died from police brutality.

keep your friends close - not much to say about this either but for the fact that aeolous being cherry is very fun to think about. while the meaning of this lyric means very different things in the context of the outsiders versus epic, the line “keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” does really fit with cherry. ponyboy being the “enemy” that she quickly befriends and keeping him close. but soon, she starts giving info to the greasers, the socs in her eyes almost becoming the real “enemy”. might be wrong though, interpret it however you like, i just think it fits cherry!

also the “everything’s changed since polities” line really fits into how i think soda would grieve for steve while still at war. he has to stay strong for his crew but they all sense, *know* something’s off with soda, and put the pieces together that this is because of steve. without steve, soda doesn’t have as high of a morale on life in general, and therefore the crew doesn’t. which fits in with them (kinda accidentally) turning on him.

ruthlessness - now HERE ME OUT HERE, if bob is the cyclops, rather than dally seeing him as a “son”, him being like “you had mercy on a SOC.” but the “you had mercy on the enemy?!” also works. just in general, i think dally’s memory coming back to haunt soda, espically paired with dally also being zeus, is fitting honestly. while dally wasn’t always ruthless, we gotta keep in mind in this au, this is in soda’s mind. these “gods” or visions of people he once knew, in my eyes, are people coming back to haunt him in his most shameful state. no matter what dally would’ve really said, i picture soda thinking how disappointed the people he loved most would be in him if they saw him in that very moment. also, “ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves” is SO dally.

puppeteer - now again, being how circe is a witch, it’s a bit hard to fit this into a realistic setting but i js thought having marcia as her would be fun bc paired with…

wouldn’t you like - two-bit as hermes, i just think i’d be hilarious. i like to picture this as soda and two-bit on two ends of a phone, and for whatever reason, marcia is there distracting the crew from their goal. soda on one line would be like “so do you know of a soc named marcia” and two-bit on the other end like, “OMG WE WENT OUT ONE TIME, this is how to scare her off”

done for - self-explanatory, not much to say here tbh. marcia’s just iconic.

there are others ways - (with my stevepop heart) if like to think that *right after* steve’s death, it would be pretty much impossible for soda to be “seduced” as well as the idea of pony and darry waiting for him would keep him focused on the end goal in that moment.

the underworld - i kinda like the idea of the underworld not being the actual underworld but a very dark and dangerous place, with the visions of the dead and soda’s past traumas coming back to bite him in that moment. the line between reality and fiction is a hard line to draw in that very moment. ALSO STEVE AND SODA’S MOM😭😭

no longer you - you know i HAD to include him somewhere, so here’s johnny finallyyyyy. i don’t really have much of an explanation other than being johnny’s quieter personality, him seeing everything in a way, him being tierras just makes sense.

monster - soda losing his mind finally and willing to do anything to drive these ghosts of the past out of his mind and get home to his brothers. self-explanatory :)

being how all the songs aren’t out yet, i’m just gonna stop here. thanks for listening to my yapping my boredom has created :) enjoy listening!

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becasbelt · 2 years ago

Text

the beca + cooking character study that ATTACKED my brain that nobody asked for

* * *

Beca Mitchell hated cooking.

At least, that’s what she would like to be put on the official record.

Not all children of divorce are forced to grow up fast. Beca knows this, in a very tangible way. She had friends growing up whose parents were also divorced, and life continued much in the same way for them as it did before their parents separated. Sometimes they’d even joke that life was better now since they got double the gifts on holidays, double the parties for their birthday.

Beca always let them have their moment, didn’t feel the need to shut down what optimism they could find in whatever turbulent custody schedule their parents’ lawyers had worked out. Didn’t feel like shoving her own thoughts about her divorced parents in their faces.

By the time she was 12 years old, Beca could make a few pretty decent casseroles. They weren’t all that complex, mostly just cheese, noodles, and different sauces mixed together in a glass pan. But after about 6 months of living off of PB&Js, Lunchables, and Spaghettios, waiting for her mom to snap out of whatever work-induced daze she’d been in since her dad walked out on them, Beca decided that they needed actual food.

So, she’d rolled up her sleeves and designated herself the man of the household.

Grocery shopping took a while for her to figure out. Beca would walk to the nearest Walmart and stare wide-eyed at all the different aisles, foods, and brands available. Overwhelmed and out of her league.

At first she’d just grab whatever she vaguely recognized and buy it, avoiding eye contact with the cashier and handing over her mom’s credit card before hightailing it out of the store as fast as she could. But eventually she found she actually liked grocery shopping. She’d slip her headphones over her ears and peruse the aisles, wondering what different vegetables and seasonings would taste like in a stir fry or pasta.

By 14, Beca had a pretty solid routine. Saturdays were shopping and laundry days. She’d make a list of all the stuff they needed, ask her mom if she had any meal suggestions (which she didn’t), walk the two miles to Walmart, then haul all the bags she could carry back.

It got easier when she was 16 and could drive. Faster, for one, and she could actually bring home more than four bags at a time.

Every day after school she’d come home, make dinner, wait around until 7:00 to see if her mom would be home to eat with her, and when she inevitably didn’t show, put the food away and go work on her her music until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

If her mom ever noticed Beca’s efforts in keeping them both fed, she never let on.

Beca kept up that routine until she was 18, until the decision to go to college was made for her by a father who was suddenly interested in being a part of her life again.

The day before leaving for Barden, Beca put together a week’s worth of freezer meals - which, for one person who often forgot to eat, would last more like a month, really. The next morning a taxi picked her up and took her to the airport.

Her mom was already at work by the time she left.

When Beca stepped foot inside her dorm room for the first time, the first thing she noticed was the strangely hostile energy coming off in waves from her roommate. The second thing she noticed was that there was no kitchen. She would be getting all her meals from the cafeteria on the main floor.

The first meal Beca ate from the cafeteria was chicken parmesan. It was bland at best, probably frozen chicken that could be prepared and served en masse.

Beca didn’t lift a finger to make it.

It was perfect.

When Beca moved into the Bella house a year later, with all the rest of the Bellas piling in behind her, her heart sunk at the sight of the large, fancy kitchen just off the living room. She’d spent the last year living off of cafeteria food, energy drinks, and chips, and the thought of meal prepping and grocery shopping again was enough to make her sick.

That sickness lasted all of two seconds before Chloe loudly started to explain to everyone how their kitchen and cooking duties worked. How they would all rotate through who went shopping for food, but for the most part they’d fend for themselves unless someone felt the urge to cook for everyone.

They were adults, after all. They were old enough to look after themselves.

That was enough for Beca to breathe again.

Beca sort of stuck to how things were the year before, eating out often for meals, but mostly just snacking a lot. It was hell on her digestive system, sure, but she had more important things to worry about. Like school and her music and the Bellas.

The rest of the Bellas liked to tease her about it. They would joke that she probably couldn’t even boil water and that’s why she didn’t cook very much. Amy liked to say she was forever trapped in a 12 year old boy’s body; her stomach a bottomless pit that only craved Cheetos and Red Bull.

Beca didn’t mind the teasing, really. She’d just laugh it off and shove more chips in her mouth.

When the other girls cooked for everyone, Beca would thank them politely and enjoy her food, feeling no pressure to return the favor. The most common group cook was Chloe, who always served her Bellas with a smile. Which was awesome, really, except-

Chloe Beale, for all her charm and beauty, was not a great cook.

Her food was fine, for the most part. No worse than the cafeteria food Beca lived off of for a year. Chloe just wasn’t... particularly gifted in the kitchen. Most of the time her noodles were ever so slightly undercooked, her cookies a little overdone, and the girl didn’t know how to use any seasonings besides salt to save her life.

And yet Chloe loved to cook. Not out of necessity or obligation, just out of a genuine enjoyment for hearing things sizzle in a pan, or watching bread rise in the oven. She’d turn on some music and waltz around the kitchen like she was Rachel Ray, not even realizing her sauce was thickening to a worrying degree.

It was, Beca had to admit, one of her favorite sights in the world.

Sometimes Beca would just sit at the counter and watch Chloe prance around, joking and laughing with her, and sometimes she would lend a... secretive hand. If Chloe was distracted with a picture of a dog on her phone, Beca would stir the meat cooking on the stove. When Chloe would get caught up talking with Stacie about a guy in her class, Beca would add a pinch of garlic powder onto the veggies.

No one ever noticed Beca doing it, and the look on Chloe’s face when she discovered how good her food had turned out always made Beca want to do it again.

It wasn’t until they’d all graduated and went their separate ways that Chloe figured out Beca could cook.

The NYC apartment that Chloe, Beca, and Amy called home was about the size of Beca’s bedroom back in her mom’s house. The shower was in the kitchen, the kitchen was in the living room, and the living room doubled as Chloe and Beca’s bedroom.

Their refrigerator oscillated between too cold and too warm, their oven worked seemingly only when the moon was in certain phases, and their microwave took twice as long to heat food up as it should. Most of their food cooked unevenly or had the inexplicable taste of cigarette smoke to it, and if they had anything on the stovetop for more than two minutes the fire alarm would go off.

It was something close to hell, if Beca was being honest, but Chloe thought their tiny studio apartment was just about the most charming place on earth, which made Beca hate it just a little less.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

Beca smirks from her place by the stove. “I’m sure I won’t,” she drawls, prodding at the chicken cooking in its pan. “Tell me all about it.”

Chloe launches into the chaos that was her day at the animal shelter, and the longer the story goes on, the more Beca starts to understand why she’s home so late. Normally Chloe would get home before Beca and start on dinner, finishing up around when Beca got home so that they could eat together. When Beca had gotten home today, expecting the same, she was instead greeted by an empty apartment and a text from Chloe simply telling her she’d be home late.

Beca had considered going out and getting McDonald’s for all of two seconds before shrugging and starting on dinner herself.

As Chloe finishes up her story, Beca plates food for both of them and settles at the table. Chloe digs in right away, still talking a mile a minute, and pauses after one bite with wide eyes.

“Beca, this is really good,” she says, mouth full of food.

Beca spears a piece of chicken. “It’s just chicken and rice,” she says with a shrug. “Not too complicated.”

“No, but this is, like, really good,” Chloe repeats emphatically. “Like, the chicken isn’t dry and the rice isn’t crunchy and-” she smacks Beca on the arm and Beca yelps. “You’re telling me I’ve lived with you for five years and I never knew you could cook? I thought you were incompetent!”

Beca stifles a laugh. “I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did,” she says with a grin.

Chloe laughs delightedly. “Yeah, I’ll say,” she agrees, leaning back in her chair to appraise Beca in a new light. Beca ducks her head at the attention and pushes her food around her plate.

After dinner when Beca is washing dishes, Chloe slides her arms around Beca’s middle from behind and buries her face in Beca’s neck. This is also part of their routine, at the end of each day when Chloe is feeling a little sleepy and affectionate, but today has the added bonus of Chloe murmuring her thanks for dinner into Beca’s skin, warmth and gratitude oozing from the words.

Beca closes her eyes and remembers countless nights waiting around for someone who didn’t care enough to make it home in time for meals, let alone thank Beca for preparing them. She sinks back into Chloe’s embrace and allows herself a moment to enjoy the affection.

She tells Chloe “anytime,” and means it.

And maybe starts to hate cooking a little less.

#wanted to get this done for pride month but #c'est la vi #bechloe #pitch perfect #beca mitchell #chloe beale #i am a 'beca has an absent mom' truther ok!#i might post this on ao3 #we'll see how lazy i am #my writing

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