#a top hat cat who will trade in the hat for an apron and a grill to make S tier food

[queensparklekitten]

Been scrolling through @minecraftheadcanons for ages and now i’m thinking about players raised by illagers and, to a lesser extent, the human rights violations committed in trading halls

“Hey Sumi! There you are!” 

At the mention of the name she went by, the player looked up from where she was sitting, at the top floor of the outpost.

 “Hey Argo! What’s up?” 

“So. There’s going to be a raid on a village soon, and you’re coming!” 

Sumi jumped up. “No way. You’re kidding! How did they find the village?” 

“Some of us are tailing a player we ran across recently. They haven’t seen us yet, but they will when they lead us right to a village and we strike!” 

“Oh my god, I’m going to be in a raid! Can I go in as soon as possible?” 

“Of course you can!” 

“Oh yeah, by the way. Got any ideas on when this will be? I want to know if I have time to go mining a little, look for some diamonds. I want a diamond sword for the raid.” 

Argo gestured to the iron sword Sumi had on her, glittering with enchantment. “I’d say with the enchantments you’ve got on that thing, you don’t need a diamond sword.” 

“I suppose. Oh yeah, one more question. Can I blow up the buildings?” 

Argo paused at that one. She knew Sumi had been taught to conquer and be unafraid to kill, but she’d never seen anyone want to set off explosives in a raid before. 

“That could hurt some of us, though... I’ll ask the higher-ups, and if they say no, stick to arson.” 

“Sounds fair.” 

Two days later, the horn resounded. The first wave went ahead, and Sumi geared up. 

“I’ve got food, arrows, armor, some blocks, a little TNT, and my flint and steel. I think I’m ready.” 

The raiders arrived at the village, all holding crossbows and axes high. All except for one raider, different than the others, with long midnight blue hair and a smaller nose than those around her, short red dress concealed by a diamond chestplate and iron helmet, leggings, and boots, all shimmering with enchantment. The helmet in particular had gold accents on it, purely for aesthetic purposes; Sumi had crafted it herself and decided why not. 

The horn sounded and the second wave charged. 

Sumi ran through the village, searching for a completely wooden building to torch, a villager or an iron golem to kill-

“Look, a player! Think she’s here to save us?” 

Sumi turned to where she heard the villager. 

There. In that little house. 

Sumi opened the bright orange door to find two villagers hiding inside, crouched underneath the window. 

“Player! Have you come to fight off the illagers?” 

Sumi took a step closer to them and began to laugh. 

“Now just why would I fight my family?” 

The closest villager had no time to react before Sumi stabbed him twice. Almost as fast, she tore out her sword and turned to face where the other one had been a minute ago. 

Sumi saw them running out the door, and had to laugh at their idiocy. Did they really think it was any safer outside? 

No matter. She had blood to spill. She charged after the villager and swung her sword, managing to land a hit, the enchantments on the sword knocking them forwards and causing them to fall onto the ground. 

“I’ll give you one chance to join us. Take a crossbow and prove that you can use it against the wretched scum of this village, and you can live.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Your loss.” Sumi finished off the villager and ran through the village to find her next target. 

The first thing she noticed was Loika was on a roof and there was an iron golem staring up at them. 

“Ooh, sniping them from the roof? Good one!” 

“I’ve shot this golem like 6 times and it’s not going down! Is there a ravager here yet?” 

“I don’t see one. They’re probably on their way with one, though.” 

“Great, because this golem’s already taken out two or three of us-” 

Sumi dropped her sword. “Wait, WHAT?” 

“Yeah. It got Blaine and Ori.” 

Sumi didn’t pick up her sword for a minute. More dead. She knew there was a risk, she’d been there when they’d honored illagers who had fallen during raids, she’d had a vindicator tell her about how they’d died in one of the best ways one could die, but to actually be in a raid with casualties on the wrong side... 

“Everyone back up!” 

Sumi pulled out a block of TNT and placed it next to the iron golem. After checking to make sure there was no cats nearby, she lit the TNT and ran. 

The explosion went up behind her, decimating the entire building. Not much of a building, just a small yellow clay house, but the iron golem didn’t make it out in time. 

Loika just stood there, staring at the crater where there was once a house. 

“Whoa.” 

Just then, a horn sounded. 

Argo ran into the village, alongside some others Sumi recognized from the mansion, a witch she didn’t recognize, and an enormous ravager that would certainly have destroyed that iron golem had Sumi not gotten to it first. 

Loika lowered their crossbow. “Well, I’m going to go see the witch, I kind of just had to jump off a roof so I wouldn’t get blown up.” 

While Loika was regenerating, Sumi went looking for another target. 

“Hey Sumi! How’s the raid going!” 

Sumi turned and looked at Argo next to her. 

“It’s going great! I killed two villagers and blew up a house-” 

“And she destroyed the iron golem before the ravager even showed up!” 

“Yes, I also made that monster pay.” 

Argo high-fived her. “Oop! Villagers, 9-o-clock!” 

Sumi turned to where Argo had just pointed them out, running out of a building that had had its door broken down by a vindicator. “I call the one with the black apron!” 

She was about to use her sword, but as the villager ran away over the wooden bridge, she had a better idea. 

A pair of pillagers paused to watch as Sumi set fire to the block on which the villager stood. 

This guy was a mason, huh? How utterly worthless. Well, at least they’d served one purpose in their so-called life: entertaining her as they burned to death, running around in a desperate panic, trying to get rid of the flames, never making it to the water before they died. 

As Sumi continued what had turned into an arson spree, she didn’t even notice that the raiders who had arrived alongside her had left to restock on ammunition or that new raiders had arrived until a witch asked her if she needed a healing potion. 

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good.” 

“You’re... certainly destructive.” 

“It’s a talent of mine.” 

“Well, if you want to keep using that TNT I hear you brought, better hurry, we’ve almost won!” 

At that, Sumi felt a rush of excitement. They’d almost won the raid! 

No more time to talk. After all, what was the use of blowing up a village if none of its residents were alive to witness what they deserved? 

Sumi found another mostly-clay building. She didn’t see any villagers, but the two she’d taken out earlier were hiding under windows, so it wasn’t out of the question they were hiding. 

“Everyone back up, I’m setting off explosives!” 

Sumi placed TNT around the red clay house, before lighting it up. This time, she didn’t look away. Why would she, when she could watch the house and the nearby farm and some gray and orange wood building be reduced to dust? 

As the explosions finished, however, Sumi did regret not standing back further; even if the blast didn’t kill her, she still had smoke in her face- 

“Villager!” 

Sumi looked up. Villager? Where? 

Then she saw it running. White fabric over red, trying to make it to the one completely untouched building in the village, doomed to fail. 

Hers. 

Sumi took off like a baby zombie after the villager, sword in hand. She could see it already, the look in his eyes when he realized he may as well have already died, the celebration afterwards, maybe she could even take any stuff he had on him? 

As she walked up the stairs to the building he’d run into, several other raiders followed. Looks like they’d already gotten rid of all the others. 

“Where are you hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiding!!!” called Sumi in a singsong voice. “Come on out! You can’t hide forever!” 

Movement next to some block she couldn’t tell the purpose of by looking. 

There. 

As she and her family closed in, Sumi took in this villager. Glasses, book looking hat- wait. 

“Guys, wait, don’t kill him yet, I need to see something.” 

“What’s this?” 

Sumi lowered her sword. “Show me what enchanting books you have.” 

“Uh, I can pay you for paper, or I can get you Mending-” 

“Perfect. Guys, don’t kill this one.” 

A vindicator Sumi didn’t remember the name of stepped forwards. “What do you mean, don’t kill this one?” 

“I mean he sells a rare treasure enchantment that can make our stuff unbreakable. We should take him back to the outpost or mansion, keep him in a cage or dungeon, and make him give us Mending books.” 

The vindicator nodded. “Not a bad idea, but how will we make him cooperate?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I have some ideas.” 

Sumi knew zombie villagers could be cured. And if illagers who committed major infractions were turned into ravagers as punishment, a villager who refused to cooperate could be turned into a zombie. Then he’d be brought back, and all she needed to do was make it clear she could easily do this for as long as she needed to until she got cheap enchantment books. As she explained this, she couldn’t help but to make eye contact with her new villager, savor every minute of the terror on his face as she detailed what the rest of his life would be like. 

“A round or two of being turned into the mindless monster he fears so much, in what must be a painful manner, and he’ll be practically giving us enchantments for free. We can use the iron from the golem and the loot chests in the anvil to enchant everything we have.” 

“We had the right idea taking you in.” 

Sumi stepped out of the building as the villager got tied up and took in the destruction she’d caused. 

The center of the village was one giant crater. A few acacia stairs floating in the air were the only indication there had ever been buildings there. Further on, cracked glass panes were the only sign that wooden houses had once stood where there was now nothing but burnt ground. And flames, everywhere in the village, on almost every building she’d gotten near. 

A celebratory cheer came from within the crowd, and soon more mimicked it, some even doing a victory dance. 

Sumi could not help but to dance herself. 

While she was dancing, one of her best friends walked up to her, carrying arrows picked up from the ground. 

“Wow. You were vicious out there. I’ve never seen someone do this level of destruction.” 

“That’s TNT for you! You were great out there by the way, I saw that kill you got!” 

“Thanks! You too!” 

“So, I suppose we’re looting the chests now, huh. Hey, bet you I can find an emerald before you do!” 

“Oh, it’s on.” 

[thecooksjournal]

For the Love of Food

So where does my love of food come from? I firmly believe that my passion for all things food related and my willingness to try almost anything stems from my childhood and my family upbringing. My much loved Nan and Grandad must take most of the credit as from a very early age I was introduced to a wide variety of home-grown and home-cooked foods. My Grandad was an avid gardener growing a whole manner of fruit and vegetables in his garden. He showed me the delights of growing runner beans, cabbage and cauliflower along with a whole range of soft fruit ranging from English plums to gooseberries. My Nan like my Grandad was old school so everything in the kitchen was made from scratch using what was grown in the garden. I can still remember watching her cook and learning how to make pastry and cakes from basic ingredients.

Some of my fondest memories as a child are of the big family meals we had at their house at 218, London Road Waterlooville (sadly now demolished). At various times during the school holidays my cousins, uncles and aunties would all come to stay. This would be a big event for me as we would have fantastic traditional roast dinners with all the trimmings and yes if you didn’t eat your vegetables you most definitely wouldn’t get any dessert! To be honest I wasn’t a fussy eater even as a kid. As I recall it was only Brussels sprouts and Stilton cheese that I could have quite happily avoided throughout those formative years. The only real problem I had at these family meals was whether I could finish my meal and get to that last roast potato before my cousin Glen, who despite being younger than me could always match me for appetite.  My much missed Mum carried on the tradition set by her parents and although home-cooking has changed a lot over the years she has always instilled the same values in me to experiment and try everything at least once.

My Mum worked as a waitress in a local café called The Black Cat Café. I can remember going to work with her on one occasion and being allowed to watch what went on in the kitchen. My clearest memory here is one of the veg prep guys giving me a raw carrot to try. I had always eaten carrots from my Grandad’s garden but cannot recall eating them raw so this was a new experience. Even now I can still taste that distinct flavour which was somewhat of an epiphany moment for me. Like eating your first oyster or you first taste of true caviar this was a profound moment for me.

Another early food memory is also somewhat unusual. My Nan and Grandad lived in a big house next to a petrol station. The station had one of the first vending machines I can remember on the forecourt next to where the air and water could be found. This particular vending machine dispensed milk shake. My particular favourite was a raspberry milk shake which became a firm favourite with me so much so that if ever I had any money this would be my first purchase. The petrol station is still there but the machine has long gone but the taste of this milk shake still lingers in my senses. Every so often if I taste very fresh raspberries I get transported back in time to this very happy period in my life.

Food always seems to give me happy memories so it is probably no surprise that I followed my nose 9and stomach) into the industry. I began my adventure by training  as a Chef at Highbury College in Cosham. At the time I started there I was a fresh faced sixteen year old. The catering facility at Highbury was only a year old and at the time regarded as one of the best places to learn the trade in the UK. I studied there for three years from 1981 to 1984 and was as proud as anything to emerge with my Diploma in Professional Cookery. If my family gave me my love of food then the lecturers and college definitely fed my addiction. It was one of the happiest times of my life and I am forever grateful to all my lecturers and fellow students who taught me so much that stood me in good stead for later life. I would heartily recommend to anyone thinking of studying catering to go ahead and do it. Even if you never cook professionally after you leave, the skills you learn there will be with you for life.

I can still remember my first day at college as one of the new influx of PCD (Professional Cookery Diploma) students. We were all resplendent in a blizzard of spotless white jackets and blue checked trousers, wearing our new uniforms with pride for the very first time. Our aprons were trailing down to the floor and our starched hats were pointing proudly to the ceiling, we really must have been quite a sight. Over the years our aprons shortened until eventually they were folded into nothing more than miniskirts that just about covered our crutches; while the starched Mohawk-like hats were replaced by neat uniform disposable paper ones. We had finally come of age and were ready to launch our talents onto an unsuspecting world. Looking back it was hard work and frightening at times but honestly worth every second and an experience I would do all over again if I had the chance. It was the days before politically correctness had reared its head so it was a harsh environment for a young teenager.

Saying that the harshness was nothing to what I found when working in a professional kitchen. For a short while I was able to work as a Commis in The Café Royal, Claridge's, Langans Brasserie and Simpson's in the Strand. Working as a Chef in London was fresh, exciting and frightening. Working as a Commis you were on of the lowest ranked employees only one up from the pot wash. You were treated with disdain and generally verbally and sometimes physically abused. Nowadays this sounds horrific but it was pretty standard at the time in the industry. London tended to amplify this somewhat but wherever you worked in the UK it was pretty much the same. This harsh treatment either broke you or made you stronger. The restaurant trade has always been pretty transient so to survive you had to be strong. As a Commis you had to prove yourself before you were let anywhere near a stove. Although I was a qualified chef I spent 6 months peeling and turning potatoes, turning mushrooms and preparing the mise en place ready for service. I can remember many occasions when my julienne of carrot or my bruinoise of vegetables was unceremoniously thrown in the bin because it was not perfect. Through sheer persistence I managed to survive and once I gained the trust of the brigade I was able to watch and learn from the more senior Chefs. As time went on I was allowed to do more and more in the kitchen until I was welcomed as one of the team. I still have very fond memories of the loud punk music played prior to service and the sense of belonging I felt as part of the team. Outside of work we played hard and in London this could be very hard but I had a lot of fun and learnt a great deal.

My experience in London was for a relatively short time but it is an experience that has left its mark on me both personally and professionally. To this day I have a strange affinity with London and simply love the old school restaurants there. My career took me back down to the South Coast and away to sea working front of house for a change before ending up as a Food Buyer procuring high end products for the cruise industry. I have never forgotten my roots and although my time in the front line was brief I still regard it as one of the best experiences of my life. I am indebted to my college lecturers who got me the placements and hopefully I have paid my dues to the industry.

At home I still cook every day and still get that same sense of enjoyment I felt at 16. I genuinely love food and will try just about anything if I feel it is something that I might enjoy. I am frequently asked what is the best meal I have ever eaten. I have been lucky enough after nearly 40 years in the industry to have eaten in a lot of top restaurants and to have had the opportunity to try a myriad of dishes across the world. I have tried many unusual dishes and as a Food Buyer had the opportunity to taste many new and innovative ingredients before they reach the trade.

It therefore can come of something of a surprise when I reveal my favourite meal is not only very simple but from a most unusual food outlet. The location was Hong Kong International Airport around 2005 in restaurant which if my memory serves me correct was situated upstairs on Level 8 of the main concourse above the various check in desks. The restaurant itself is very simple, quite large but very unassuming. It was early morning and I was catching a flight back to the UK. I was not particularly hungry so I was just looking for something light before my flight was ready to board.

I opted to go for a simple Prawn Foo Yung. The picture above is exactly what was presented to me. You cannot see it on the picture as the colours are pretty subdued but the scrambled egg was almost orange in colour. To this day it is the freshest egg I have ever eaten. For such a simple dish the flavours were exceptional and taught me that to have a great dish sometimes simplicity is really the best. As long as you use good quality ingredients less really is more. Sometimes the most complex recipes containing multiple ingredients are no better than a single ingredient prepared well.

Life can quite easily be compared to food Choose your friends and your ingredients carefully and you will find that good friends and good ingredients can give you much happiness. As a Chef I can give you no better advice than love your life and love your food.

[waterchestnut123]

CH 1 | To Catch A Turtle Dove

Fandom: One Piece Setting: Victorian AU Genre: Action, Adventure, Humor, Friendship, Romance. Pairings: Law/Nami Rating: M - Mature (for language, drinking and alcohol, death and some moderate gore, other adult themes)

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Turtle Dove: A particular type of female thief favoring home burglaries, characterized by the use of her gender, stealth, subtlety, and disguise to steal from her targets, keeping her presence and identity as concealed from the target as possible. As opposed to a pickpocket or robber, the turtle dove is subtle, and aims to keep their victim unaware of the theft until long past when the theft occurred, such that the target is unsure whether it was truly theft or mere carelessness which led to the disappearance of the item.

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Chapter 1: Her Mark

She stepped off the carriage lightly, boot heels clacking on the cold cobblestone beneath her feet. Carefully adjusting her posture to disguise the small bundle hidden beneath her velvet cloak, she turned briefly to offer a demure nod and polite thank you to the driver before crossing the road, the snap of his reins sounding behind her.

The November sun was low in the sky—a mere hour of sunlight left at most, casting long shadows over the well-heeled avenue. A cold breeze blew across the road carrying with it the imminent threat of winter and she drew inward, tucking her cloak around her more tightly as she crossed. Keeping her face carefully concealed beneath her hat as she passed an elderly gentleman twirling his cane, she navigated the familiar path to the tradesman’s home which she had spent weeks casing.

The residents were due to depart for their winter home in the south this morning, leaving only a small handful of servants behind to keep watch of the house; servants who, she knew, would be absent to spend the holiday with their families, making the home vacant for a scant few evening hours. Though she was loath to use their well-earned family time to hit her mark and lay the blame squarely upon their shoulders should her thefts be discovered, life was cruel and frankly, even as overworked and under appreciated as they likely were, they were still far better off than most.

Besides—she was doing it for Nojiko. Nojiko and Rebecca. She couldn’t forget that.

The streets were thankfully beginning to empty—few would be about by sundown on this day of feasting and thanks, and for that she was grateful; it made picking the lock on the gate to the side alley of the home much easier, particularly with the trembling of her chilled fingers slowing her progress. After several tense moments the lock clicked and she pushed it open,  quietly slipping into the dark of the alley.

The servant’s entrance lay just around the bend, and once more she pulled out her tools and carefully picked the lock on the rear door, hearing the thunk of the deadbolt sliding back. Pushing on the handle, she glanced quickly down the alley before stepping over the threshold and shutting the door behind her.

The home was by no means warm, but it was more comfortable than the chilly evening air. With some regret she removed her hat and shed her cloak, placing both on hooks by the door and unfolding the bundle she’d carried beneath it. With a flick of her wrist she unfurled a white apron, tying it neatly over her voluminous black skirt before placing a white lace bonnet atop her head and tying the straps beneath her chin. On the off chance any happened to catch sight of her through a window, she would seem to the untrained observer nothing more than a dutiful maid.

Smoothing out her skirt, she straightened and glanced around cautiously, ears tuned for wayward footsteps or voices. Though it was unlikely anyone was still here, she had not gone her whole life without being caught for no reason. Caution and subtlety were the pillars of her trade, and essential to a successful job.

Satisfied the home was indeed empty and that her disguise had been successfully applied, she took off down the hall. The home was large and long with many rooms. Rich burgundy rugs lined the hallway and elaborate oil paintings hung from walls decorated with intricately patterned wallpapers. It took several tries before she managed to find the master suite, but upon opening her fifth door, she smiled triumphantly. Stepping inside, she made a beeline for the elegant wooden vanity sitting in the corner beside a potted plant. A smoothly polished wooden box sat atop its equally polished surface, and when she made to lift its lid found the object tightly locked. She frowned, pulling out her picks again. Rich people and their damned locks.

She made quick work of it, hearing a quiet click before tucking the tools back in her billowing sleeves and lifting the lid. Worth it, though, as inside were dozens of gold and gemstone studded necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. She sifted carefully through them, choosing five of the twenty or so which lay neatly in the box, sliding them over her head and tucking them into the high neckline of her dress. Closing the lid, she carefully re-locked it and turned for the carved wooden dresser opposite the room.

Men were always much easier, leaving their valuables in easily accessed places. Opening the top drawer, she found a small lidless box containing several gold and silver watch chains, buckles, and scarf pins. She selected one of each—those that seemed of greatest value and rarity, unbuttoning the top of her dress and tucking them into her cleavage.

The dining room was next and she quickly found the gold and silver napkin rings tidily tucked away in a drawer of the china hutch, grabbing a single set of gold rings and sliding them between her breasts to rest against the watch chain. She fidgeted uncomfortably a moment as she adjusted her corset, then glanced out the front window, noting the position of the sun. She shouldn’t linger too much longer, but…

She could do it, if she hurried.

Turning, she headed back down the hall, opening and closing more doors in search of her final mark—the study. After three misses she found it, closing the door quietly behind her as she glanced about the room. A large, ornately carved wooden desk sat on one side of the room, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf built into the wall behind it. And to the left, below the wall sconce… aha! A large, metal safe sat freely against the wall, and she headed right for it.

She quickly lowered herself to the ground, pressing an ear against the cold metal before bringing her hand to the dial, closing her eyes as she listened carefully to the click of the tumblers. It was an easy break; the code was pathetically predictable--the address of the home backwards. Expertly twirling the dial to rest on the final number, she relished the satisfying thunk of the lock giving way.

The safe door squeaked open much more loudly than she would have preferred, and she scrunched her nose in distaste; but her expression quickly morphed into delight as the safe’s contents came into view: several gold bars, bags of gold coins, and various papers piled on different shelves—presumably family documents and the deed to the home. She eyed the gold bars a moment before reaching instead for a the bags of coins. They were tempting, but far too obvious. She stole from this neighborhood much too often to risk calling the authorities’ attention to it.

So she settled for the coins, lifting a small handful from within and filling what space remained inside her corset with the cool, circular metal, flinching at its chill against her skin. She set the bags back—at a glance no one would notice they’d had their contents reduced, and quickly closed the safe once more, spinning the lock. Glancing at a clock situated atop the fireplace mantle, she quickly stood and headed for the door. It was time to go.

She strode out of the office, taking care to leave the room just as she found it as she hurried into the dining room to do the same. A cursory glance of the spacious room ensured everything was as it should be, the hutch appearing utterly untouched. As she turned to head back for the servant’s entrance, a loud, firm knock sounded at the door—and she froze mid-step.

Her heart thundered in her chest and she dared not breathe. Surely no one could have contacted the authorities in the short time she’d been in here?

The dining room being at the front of the home, she carefully moved to the window which looked out on the avenue, peeking through the curtains to glance at the front stoop. What she saw was not an officer, much to her relief, but a messenger, his bag hanging low on his hip. The man approached the door again and knocked, hard. She pulled away from the window, willing her heart to slow as she waited for the man to give up and leave. Minutes passed but he was oddly persistent, continuing his efforts twice more before, finally, calling from beyond the threshold.

“Is anyone home? I carry urgent mail for the master of the house!”

Nami frowned, debating. She was losing valuable daylight, and she was reticent to risk returning home in the darkness. Despite her many skills, she was still guised as a wealthy woman—in heavy, movement restricting skirts. It was unlikely she could fend off any assailants should she be confronted. The man knocked again, calling once more and she grit her teeth.

This damned messenger just wouldn’t go away!

Firming her resolve, she pulled away from the wall, buttoning her high-necked top up and smoothing her skirt. She was Cat Thief Nami, dammit. She could deal with this. Taking a fortifying breath, she began heading for the front door. With a flick she turned the lock and pulled the heavy wood open, smiling demurely at the messenger despite the racing of her heart.

“Apologies, sir,” she said in an accented tone, “’Ow can I ‘elp you?”

The man bowed briefly, handing her a small stack of letters. “I carry urgent mail for the master of the home. Please see to it that he receives them forthwith.”

She reached out and took the letters, offering him a curtsy. “Of course. Thank you very much, sir.”

He tilted his cap. “Have a good evening miss.”

She offered him another demure smile. “You too, sir.”

Closing the door behind her, she quickly locked it and slumped against the wood, letting out a ragged breath. It was now high past time for her to get the hell out of here.

She moved to toss the stack of letters in the waste bin beneath the entryway table where they would be hidden by the other piles of rubbish, but as she turned her wrist to angle for the bin the seal on the topmost letter caught her eye. Embedded in the rich red wax was the unmistakable snow leopard crest of the Lord of the province—the crest of the Trafalgars. She furrowed a brow, curiosity getting the better of her. Reaching for her belt, she pulled a small knife from the folds, carefully sliding the blade between the wax and the paper until the wax popped free. She pulled from within the envelope a folded invitation, looping, cursive text making it difficult to read. She did, however, manage to discern after several trying moments the words, ‘Invited’, ‘ball’, and ‘castle’. Slowly, a smile rose to her face and she slid the invitation carefully back into its envelope, tucking it up her sleeve.

A ball at the Lord’s castle, huh? She could have Robin read her the details when she got home, but this was a most unexpected and potentially lucrative opportunity. If she could sneak into the Lord’s castle during a ball—right through the front door no less, heavens! Just think of all the riches waiting to be lifted! All the wealthy lords and ladies draped in gold and diamonds—a whole castle full of people utterly distracted and lulled into complacency, a large crowd to hide in, and drinks aplenty to lower everyone’s guard and twist their recollections. Oh, this was an opportunity all right!

She hurried through the house, thoughts awhirl as she removed her bonnet and apron, neatly folding them before putting her coat and hat back on. Tucking the bundle beneath the burgundy velvet, she snuck back out the servant’s entrance and out the alley, locking both doors behind her before continuing on down the street.

The sun was nearly set, a lamplighter clearly having been through while she was inside as the lamps lining the street were all aflame, casting dancing shadows over the darkening cobblestones. She walked quickly—but not too quickly, no need to draw attention to herself, down the street towards the distant trade district. Given the hour she wasn’t sure many coaches would be about, and she may have to walk the several miles back to the bookshop—a thought she dreaded, given her uncomfortable 'proper' ladies boots (no wonder these wealthy women always looked like they had a dead fish under their nose).

After several minutes, though, the rhythmic click of her heels lulled her thoughts elsewhere and she found herself contemplating her haul. She’d chosen well—the home had had quite a few rare items. The opal necklace in particular was a nice find. She wouldn’t know for sure until she took the items to Brook’s pawn shop, but she would wager in sum she’d snatched enough to last Nojiko and Rebecca at least four months. Though, it seemed unlikely she’d have much left over to save for Nojiko’s treatment. She sighed.

That was the eternal problem. No matter how much she stole, no matter how successful her jobs or how wealthy her marks, she only ever seemed to steal enough to get Nojiko comfortably by another few months. The cost of the surgery was extraordinary, and after two years she’d barely managed to save up a fifth of what she’d need. Nojiko, the selfless and uncompromising woman she was, never complained about her condition, always putting on some cheer when she managed to visit; but Nami knew—could see it in the bags beneath her eyes, the weariness pulling on her shoulders. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, it was plain as day: Nojiko was getting weaker, and Nami was running out of time.

Absently, she felt for the invitation tucked away in her sleeve.

If this worked out, the Lord’s party could be the opportunity she needed to finally make some headway. It would require a lot more prep than usual; she’d need to get her hands on a layout of the castle, research the guest list, buy an evening dress for the occasion (she didn’t even want to think about what that would cost)…

It would be… risky. Much riskier than usual. It was one thing to burgle the empty home of a well-to-do tradesman, it was quite another to burgle the Lord of the province right under his own nose. And if she got caught… well, she didn’t want to think about that, either.

But she was up the challenge. She was Cat Thief Nami, dammit; her skills were legendary! Or, they would be if anyone knew it was she who had done the thieving. And she had so much to potentially gain…

For Nojiko. Nojiko and Rebecca.

The clacking of hooves echoed quietly on the cobblestones behind her and she started, turning to spot a lone taxi traveling up the road toward her. She smiled broadly, feeling her feet scream in relief. Pulling one arm from beneath her cloak, she waved at the carriage, whose driver nodded in acknowledgment as he steered towards her.

Maybe things really were looking up after all.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

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[gingers-writing-blog]

New York Bound

Chapter 5

If you can figure out what the shirt numbers represent, you get a cookie!

Triggers: Swearing, Head Injury, Blood, Mentions of a Dog Attack

New Words: Twigged - Realised

Word Count: 2,953

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When I woke up, I saw Tommy Boy above me. My head was poundin' and I heard the sound of what I recognised as metal wheels on cobblestones. I also heard the clink of metal chains...and shouts from...somewhere.

I lifted my head as high as I dared, but when I realised where we were, I sat up fully.

"Shit!" My hands flew to my head when I felt blood trickin' down past my right eye. It then registered what the clinkin' sound was.

My hands were cuffed together. So were Tommy's. We were in the back of the Workhouse van.

~ Meanwhile in The Foreman's office ~

Smoke filled the room as the Foreman stood over the fireplace in his office. With a stack of papers in his hand, he dropped them into the open fire and smiled maniacally.

Mr Fink was, once again, clutching his hat. Dan and Joey standing slightly behind him.

"We've got the Barnes' kid, Mr Foreman, sir." Mr Fink stated proudly, his head slightly higher than before. Joey scoffed and shook his head in disappointment and shame, disappointment and shame in both his uncle's pride and at the fact that he let himself hurt more kids.

Fortunately, the Foreman didn't notice. He was too caught up in protecting himself, by burning the papers.

"Finally." The Foreman dumped the rest of the papers in the fire and went around the back of his desk, taking a key off a rack on the wall as he went. He unlocked a drawer in his desk and took out 20 pounds in notes. He handed them to Mr Fink and went back to burning the papers.

"So, what are you going to do with the kids when the Mayor comes for the inspection, sir?"

"What inspection?" The Foreman whirled around to face Fink.

"The Mayor has scheduled inspections of all the Workhouses in the city. He twigged what was going on and my friend in his staff has told me when ours is. I'm sorry, it must've slipped my mind, sir."

"And when is it?" The Foreman demanded.

"A week today. Meaning we have 6 days to get this place sorted out. Have you thought about what you're going to do with the kids until then?"

"Of course I have! I'm going to get the Orderlies to put them to work. The boys will be working in the vegetable gardens or they will be making the toys that we'll be selling to Mr Chaplin at Prescott Industries and Trading. The girls will be cleaning, doing laundry or making the dresses we will also be selling to Prescott."

"What about the Barnes' kid?" Dan interjected. The Foreman shot him a look but didn't scold him.

"I might give her to you to deal with. I know you three have, or had, a dispute with her parents. And since her parents are at the bottom of the Thames, I'm assuming you're taking up the dispute with her."

At the mention of Cat's parents, Joey felt anger rising from deep within himself. He usually had quite a good grip of his emotions, or he did before all this started. However, if he did see the Barnes' kid, he doubted that he would be able to contain himself.

He clenched his jaw and gripped his hands behind his back, anger burning inside of him, constantly threatening to burst out.

"Wait a second...What if when the kids speak up when the Mayor comes around?" Fink was starting to panic. It was a problem that they had never encountered before or accounted for. "We're going to have to get the kids out as soon as possible. And what about when he asks to see your admin papers?"

"You idiot! There is no need to rush this. No need to panic. We can just set them to work like I said and make them clean this shit-hole. We can also threaten to put them in solitary if they speak up. That way they won't talk and the Mayor won't get suspicious."

~ Back with Cat and Tommy in the Workhouse Van ~

The van pulled to a stop and I stood up carefully.

"Do you think we're there?"

Tommy opened his mouth, but when we heard heavy chains rattlin' and the screechin' sound of a set of gates opening, he kept quiet.

The van started movin' again but it only pulled forward a few feet, I sat back down on the floor again next to Tommy. Just inside the gate. We heard them close again, then more men and more voices came from the outside.

Suddenly, the padlock on the outside of the door was unlocked and we were greeted by the sight of three men in uniforms. The Workhouse orderlies.

Once the door was open, one of them came up the steps and grabbed my arm.

"Ow!" The man gripped my arm so hard, I thought it would bruise. He shoved me down the steps and a different orderly took me from him.

Then the man got Tommy Boy and we were marched into the Workhouse.

We were pushed through the door and down a long corridor with wooden doors leadin' to other rooms comin' off both sides.

At the end of the corridor, Mr Fink was sittin' behind a wooden table, with a short stack of papers, an ink well, a pen, and a pile of folded grey workhouse shirts in front of him. Dan and Joey stood at either side. All three of them looked so angry, I had a feelin' that my life here would be even more miserable. Not that I would be here long, I was already tryin' to figure out a way to escape.

We came to a stop in a few feet away from the table, standin' side by side.

"I'll register the girl first," Fink ordered and I was pushed forward.

"So this is where you guys have been! We missed you this morning!" I said, puttin' as much confidence and bravado into my voice as I could to mask the fact that I was terrified.

"Name." Fink kept his voice level, despite the fact I could practically feel the anger radiatin' from him.

"Cat," I responded. There was no way I wanted to tell him my real name. He probably knew it anyway...

"Real name." He demanded.

"Caitlin Barnes," I said reluctantly. I sighed as he wrote it down on one of the sheets of paper.

"Age and birthday."

"15. October 8th 1884."

"Take a shirt." I took the shirt on the top of the pile and it unfolded in my hands, which were still cuffed. I looked at it as I was moved out of the way for Tommy to be registered.

There was an 8-digit number on the left breast side. The number was: 27049923. I was tryin' to figure out what it meant and I was goin' to try and ask Tommy, but we were escorted away from each other and into separate rooms to get changed.

Luckily, one of the orderlies uncuffed us both so we could change our shirts. I rubbed my wrists then stripped off my shirt and swapped it for the rough workhouse shirt.

I checked my arm in the process and scoffed when I saw the large bruise formin' on my upper arm. I prodded it gently and it ached slightly. I'd taken more pain than this, it was less painful, more inconvenient...

When I got the shirt on, it hung loosely around my body. It fell down to just past my hips and the sleeves reached halfway down my arms, to my elbows.

It was rougher than sandpaper and it itched all over. At least it was relatively clean...

A few minutes later a woman in a brown dress and white apron came into the room.

"Come with me." She said and turned around to walk out again. I followed her silently down corridor after corridor. On the way, we passed countless rooms. Some of them looked like classrooms, others looked like workrooms, and others looked like cells...

Then I remembered that Tommy was taken a different way from me and I needed to know where he was.

"Hey, where's Tommy Boy?" I asked her as we walked.

"Who?"

"The boy that came in at the same time as me."

"Oh, him. He'll be with the boys either in the gardens or one of the workrooms. You'll see him at dinner though."

I nodded and she stopped walking. I almost knocked into her, but I stopped just in time.

I looked up at the door in front of her. The laundry room.

"Laundry? Why are we here?" I asked.

"You're going to be doing laundry for the rest of the day. There's already a girl in there so she can teach you how to do it." She opened the door and signalled for me to go in.

I stepped into the laundry room and I turned back when she closed the door behind me. I looked around, takin' it all in. It was a huge room with white washed walls. There were various not-quite-machine things that I recognised from the laundry room in the Lodging House. There were also 5 tables and clothes racks for drying. The room smelled of soap and damp. I couldn't believe that I would be spendin' the rest of the day here.

"Hey, new girl." Someone said from the other side of the room. "I'm Ida." I faced her and looked her up and down. I was really out of my depth here...

"I'm...I'm Cat," I replied. I stared at her for a second. "You look familiar." She was wearin' a brown dress quite similar to the nurse's except it was smaller and it had a number on the same side as mine, the left breast side. I looked at the number and saw that it was different from mine. It was: 21049903.

"I get that a lot." She walked over to me and took my hand. She led me over to the massive pile of laundry on one of the five tables in the huge laundry room.

"Right." She started pickin' up various pieces of clothin' and handin' them to me. "We've got to sort these into piles. Boy and girls. Then into shirts, trousers and dresses in the girls' pile. Then wash and dry them. Got that?"

"What? I'm sorry, I'm...I'm n-not really with it..." I stuttered, still starin' at her.

"That's ok. It's only your first day here, and the workhouse ain't exactly the easiest place to get used to."

She explained what we had to do again and then I realised who she was.

"Ida!"

"Yes?" She looked up from the pile of girls clothes on her side of the table.

"Ida Buckley. From Brent?"

"Yeah...yeah, that's me." She hung her head in disappointment. "I thought you wouldn't recognise me in here."

She looked back up at me and ran her hands through her shoulder-length hair.

"What?"

"I thought you wouldn't recognise me in here. In this stupid dress."

"Oh. Why?" I asked.

"Because I thought Angel would've sent a message to you to tell you..."

"Why would Angel...we're not allies...we're more like enemies, to be honest." Angel was my ex-girlfriend and she was the complete opposite of her name.

"Well, you've recognised me now, and we have a job to do. Can we just get back to doin' this? Please?" I nodded, confused. "Thank you."

I turned back to my pile and thought through that whole conversation. I couldn't make head nor tail of it but just figured that she didn't want to talk about it, so I wouldn't bring it up.

Neither of us spoke.

The rest of the day passed pretty quickly once I fully got into it. It was borin' and repetitive, and my hands were sore from doin' the same thing over and over again.

Once it was time for dinner a nurse came and knocked on the door and opened it.

"Time for dinner. Follow me." She led me down a couple of corridors to a massive room with 4 long tables and what felt and sounded like thousands of men, women and children.

Some people were waitin' in line to get food, and others were already sat down eating.

"Cat! Cat!" I heard someone yell over the clamour. I turned around to find whoever shouted and noticed that Ida had walked off.

I heard a couple of sets of footsteps behind me and span around just in time to be hug-tackled by 3 people.

I pulled out of the hug and saw who it was.

"Tommy! Smalls! Fletcher!" I looked behind them, over their shoulders. "Robin? Roger?"

I walked over to them, weavin' around people to get to them.

"Are you guys ok? What happened? How did you end up in here?" I noticed somethin' was up with Robin, well, apart from bein' arrested and stuck in the Workhouse, somethin' else was botherin' her.

"It's your fault we're all in here, Cat." She spat at me. "None of us wouldn't be in here if it wasn't for you and we're probably going to die in here as well."

"No! We're not goin' to die in here. We'll be fine." I tried to reassure her as best I could, but she wasn't havin' it.

"No, we're not! We're not going to be fine! The Jordan Brothers and The Foreman are going to be on us like a rash! They're going to kill us in here!" She stepped forward and pushed the others aside. She looked up at me with pure hatred in her eyes. I had never seen her like this before...

"Why are you bein' like this now, Robin? Like it or not, we're all stuck in here. And if we want to stay alive we need to fuckin' work together and maybe, oh I don't know, not kill each other!!" My voice got louder and louder as I spoke, but I didn't care if people heard me.

I didn't need to worry about that anyway. The room was loud enough as it was, we were just addin' to it. And it wasn't like anyone around us actually cared...

"Why am I bein' like this now?" She repeated furiously. She took a step forward and got right in my face, pure fury threatenin' to overpower any rational part left in her.

We stood there, literally toe to toe, and in a low voice, she snarled at me, "It's your fault we're all in here. If you had told us...If you had told us about what was happening, we would've been able to protect ourselves. Hell, I would've been able to kill the fuckin' dog that the Jordan's brought with them to get me."

Tears began to form in her eyes and she tried to blink them away, but they always came back.

Again and again and again.

I concentrated as hard as I could to keep my emotions in check and to not let my anger break out of me. This wasn't like Robin. She wasn't usually like this.

"Robin. Calm down. We're goin' to stick together and protect each other as much as we can in this place. We're goin' to need to trust each other---" She shoved me backwards and I almost completely lost it.

"Trust each other??" She yelled at me. "I can't trust you any more Cat! To be honest, I haven't been able to trust you since your parents were found at the bottom of the river!!" Her chest rose and fell heavily. A couple of tears escaped and she wiped them away.

When she raised her arm to wipe her tears, I noticed the red marks on her arm. They looked...like...teeth marks...She'd been bitten.

"Don't you dare even think about them," I growled, ballin' my fists. "I'm not like them. I never have been and I never will be. I'm not a fuckin' murderer." I took deep, rapid breaths, which I then attempted to even out.

By the time Robin responded, Fletcher had put his hand on her chest to stop her from attackin' me. I'd thought that she'd calmed down slightly, but no...Her eyes still burned. This was a different kind of anger than before. This was cold, calm and subtle, yet still dangerous and unpredictable...

"No. You're not a murderer. Not directly. But you've already killed us in here."

Her words hit like a punch to the gut and she walked away, still fuming. At least she walked away.

"Cat?" Tommy said gently.

"I'm fine guys. Robin's right. I have killed you all by not tellin' you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I hung my head and raked my hands through my hair, not carin' about the cut on my forehead.

"I get it if you don't forgive me," I mumbled. Then, I looked back up at them. "I wouldn't forgive me either."

"No." 

I lowered my head again. 

"Don't say that. You're the one that's right about all this." Tommy put an arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah...We've all got to stick together." Smalls put in.

"We've got to trust each other." Roger stepped forward into the group.

"If we want to stay alive, we have to fight for it. We have to keep thinking about all the people that are waiting for us outside, and remember that they're still gonna be there when we get out."

Fletcher nodded at us and we all made a silent vow to protect one another. To go through thick and thin and come out still standing.

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A/N I’m actually really proud of this chapter! The next two chapters (6 and 7) are the worst for triggers, reader discretion is advised. Thanks for reading, please like and reblog and have a great day!

[itshyejung]

Coffeehouse Angel - Zhu Zhengting

Type: Scenario

(Not gonna do genres bc tbh idk how to categorize my scenarios? I guess they’re fluff I mean they’re not rly angsty and def not smut so... just cute? Who even knows lmao)

Characters: Nine Percent Zhu Zhengting x you

(Pics are edited by me so pls give credit. Scenarios are not requested, I came up with all these a long time ago but never really shared them publicly, so hope you guys enjoy! I tried to be creative with each scenario and not do super cliche or boring ones but I think all of them are still kinda cliche lmao...)

P.S Sorry if there are any typos on the last two and this one! 

The crowded counterspace was so small, it was uncomfortable to breathe in the area especially when your co-worker, Zhu Zhengting, was always squishing behind you to get around you as you rang up customers’ orders. The satisfying sound of steaming coffee falling into a cup made you realx as Zhengting’s quick and skillful hands expertly mixed a raspberry mocha for the tall lady in a red leather coat. You adjusted the hat you wore on your head and wiped off a bit of sweat before turning on your super smile for the next customer in line. Your hands worked quickly at the cash register, occasionally glancing to the side to see if Zhengting was squeezing by. You made sure to let him have plenty of space when he would. You blushed insanely at the thought of bumping rear ends, so. you were carefuly to make sure it wouldn’t happen. Little did you know of Zhengting’s expression on the other side, secretly smiling at the way you cutely tried to move out of his way. But, he thought, a little skinship wouldn’t be too bad, would it?

“Oh it’s 9:30am. Position switch,” Zhengting noted as he glanced at the small clock on the left wall of the shop. You nodded and traded places with him, ashamed at the fact that you would now have to openly perform your coffeemaking skills, which weren’t nearly as skillful and exciting as Zhengting’s. You also kind of enived the way he confidently took over your job. Your boss had told you that you were better suited for cashier management and customer service, but as Zhengting has been working here longer than you had, he obviously had more experience and was good at just about everything.

You rubbed your hands together, untied and retied your apron, and set your elbows on top of the coffee machine as you waited for Zhengting to call orders out to you. From there, you got a nice view of his straight back and long fingers, handling cash just as expertly as you did and typing away on the touch screen of the cash register. However, he seemed to handle everything with ease, unlike the way you had scurried around, handing a pile of orders to him, shuffling left and right, and fingers shakily typing out orders onto the touch screen that you sometimes made typos (no one saw, so that was okay, right?). 

“Hey. Are you listening?” Zhengting’s large hand waved in front of your face rapidly as the customers in line laughed. “I know I’m good looking, but if you stare too long, you might lose your job.”

You flushed madly, which Zhengting smiled cutely at. He thought you were generally pretty, but prettiest when you were modest. He had a strong attraction to girls who were just the way they were, not hidden under layers of disguise that supposedly made them “pretty” but rather, he liked the pretty nature of them. He thought the best kind of person was one who always stayed their true self, and sometimes they were crazy or weird, and it entertained him to meet those people. He was very outgoing in meeting all kinds of people, and one of the reasons he liked working at a coffee shop was because it also amused him to see all the slack faces of people who were having shitty days, desperate for a kick of caffeine to wake them up. 

You hastily yanked down on a lever on the coffee machine to fill up one of the styrofoam cups. The calm brown liquid flowed into the bottom of the cup and pooled to fill the container. Just like how many people like the sound of rushing or running water, the sound of coffee hitting the bottom of a cup calmed you the same way. You quickly capped the cup after it was filled and handed the steaming beverage to the customer. A few coins fell from his hand into the glass jar on the side of the counter.

“Thank you, sir!” you waved at him as he stepped out of the coffeeshop, the bell on top of the door jingling as it swung open and closed.

You shook the glass jar a bit to loosen up the coins inside. This week, you and Zhengting had collected a good amount of tips. Not great, but what would you expect? Indeed you were an amateur. Seventy-five percent of those tips were probably the college girls going crazy over how cute Zhengting was. He looked like an adorable little mouse or cat with really fluffy fur.

“Seriously, if you’re going to keep doing that, I’m going to have to go work back there.” Zhengting pointed towards the back kitchen, where a few cooks worked making orders for people who had stopped by for a bite. Although it was mostly known for coffee, the shop was also partially a cafe where you could dine in. “And I’d be washing dishes. Now, I don’t want to do that, with you out here having all the fun, right?” He pushed on your forehead gently with two fingers. “Focus.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, boss.”

The day rolled by quickly, but you were kept busy for the rest of the day and surprisingly rarely thought about Zhengting as you served sandwiches and handled to-go customers who pulled up at the window. “I think it’s your turn to wipe down tables,” Zhengting said to you as you flipped over the sign on the front door.

“Right.” You walked over to the small calendar that hung off a pushpin in the wall. “It says ‘JUNGJUNG’ in giant letters. And obviously my name is not Jungjung.”

“Ugh, I hate going by that nickname,” Zhengting groaned. “And contrary to wait it says, it’s actually your turn anyways. Boss said so, because he saw you staring off ‘into space’ during work today.”

“Whaaaaaat,” you tried not to blush at how he had sarcastically covered up what (or who) you were actually staring at. “Alright, I guess this makes up for that then,” you sighed, and headed to the kitchen to grab the dish towel. You and Zhengting both detested wiping the gunk off the tables. The cookies and muffins many people requested for were especially crumbly, and there were messes all over the tables. You tied your apron tighter around your waist and began wiping the crumbs off the table, sweeping them onto the floor which you would later make Zhengting sweep up. You wiped ugly, sticky smudges of coffee off the tabletops, secretly making faces at them.

Meanwhile, Zhengting hid his smile behind his hand. Actually, the boss had never spoken a word of what he’d just told you to him. In fact, it was 100% true to say that Zhengting loved watching you work, especially when you wiped off tables. It wasn’t that he was a pervert who just liked staring at nice asses, definitely not. He especially liked your figure from the back. He thought that even your derpiest moments were done with at least some beauty and grace; you just looked beautiful to him. And he loved viewing your hard-working self from a distance, where you were completely clueless about it. After all, anything pretty should be looked at from a distance. You didn’t suspect a thing, just begrudgingly worked at making each table spotless. When you were done, you wiped sweat off your forehead with the backs of your hands and threw the towel at Zhengting, who caught it perfectly in the center of his chest.

“Whoa there, calm down. Hey, if you’re mad about wiping down twice in a row, I’ll take it tomorrow and the day after. Coffee?” Zhengting held out a hot cup of the liquid as you approached the counter, fingers already fumbling to untie the knot on the back of your apron. You folded it up neatly and hung it on your apron hook.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you grinned, accepting it halfheartedly. To be honest, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep all day, every day. Yet something about Zhengting’s attitude and personality made you stay later than your shift every night. Perhaps it was the way he joked humorously, but then was sincere at other times. Maybe it was the way he had voluntarily taught you all that he’d learned working here so that you wouldn’t be behind all the other employees. Or maybe it was because he had been the one that proposed the idea of “coffee dates” each night.

It wasn’t that you two were dating or anything. In fact, you’d never thought of him as more than a best friend and a long time co-worker. However, you didn’t think you’d rather have a coffee date with anyone else other than Zhengting. You enjoyed these a lot because they were especially refreshing after a tiring and long work day. They definitely stretched longer than the amount of time you’d been scheduled for. Three hours a day felt like three years. Besides, there was something about Zhengting’s smiling face that always left you relaxed at the end of the day.

“School’s ending pretty quickly, don’t you think? Soon all of us seniors will move onto uni,” Zhengting suddenly brought up, staring out the window while propping himself up against the counter. He gulped down a big sip of his coffee. You swirled your own raspberry mocha in your cup absentmindedly. There was something eating at the back of your mind that you didn’t really have the heart to tell Zhengting. However, it was not something you could avoid.

“It has been a pretty fast year,” you agreed, finally consuming a bit of your coffee. “Sometimes I wonder if everything really happened that fast or if I’m just terrible at paying attention.”

“Worried?” Zhengting grinned. “Don’t worry, star student. Didn’t you tell me you sent a lot of college applications out? I bet all of them are going to fight over you.”

Heat flushed through you and colored your cheeks warm. “Don’t say that,” you brushed it off. “I haven’t gotten any letters yet. Where are you planning on going to college?”

Zhengting’s head snapped up to look at you and grinned when he caught you off guard. Returning his gaze outside, he said, “I just applied for the local university. Nothing too extravagant. I think staying here will be just find for me.”

You nodded in understanding. “The safer choice, of course.”

“Are you saying I’m not a risk taker?”

“W-what? No… well, it’s not that it makes me one, obviously…” 

“I think asking you to prom was probably the biggest risk I ever took,” Zhengting made a face and downed the rest of his drink, tossing the empty cup into the trash can with a loud clutter. “Don’t you think?”

You set your cup down with a clunk as you thought back to the clumsy but fun mess that night had been. “You punk! I’m not as difficult as you are to deal with!”

“Perhaps not, but you have to agree that I’m better at dancing.”

Aish, this kid. You grabbed a bunch of his coffee-brown locks in one hand and dragged his towering head to your eye level. “Say one more word and you won’t be able to dance anymore, you got it?”

“Ouch! The f-” Zhengting began, trying to yank his hair out of your grasp. Then his gummy smile suddenly returned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your stomach was full of hot coffee but you weren’t ready to leave yet. Although Zhengting was an annoying kid a lot of the time, you had to admit you had a lot more fun if he was around. You two had somehow become close a long time ago when you had been swinging int he backyard. A grubby, sweaty little brown-haired kid barreled through, trying to keep a slippery frog in his grasp. You had jumped off the swing and joined him in the chase, always seeking adventure.

“Do you think… that Seoul University will accept me?” you wondered aloud as Zhengting watched you carefully. There. You had said it aloud, but unbeknownst to you, he had long ago known about your desires to study in South Korea. He was your childhood best friend, after all.

“Idiot.” Zhengting pressed two of his fingers to your forehead again and pushed gently. You feigned pain and flopped down on the counter. “You know smartasses like you will get in. You just wanted to rub it in my face.”

“That hurt!” you complained, but was secretly grateful that Zhengting supported you and gave you encouraging words, even if it was in a rough way.

“Ah, true love always does, doesn’t it?” Zhengting joked nonchalantly, but his cheeks flamed up at what he’d just said.

You choked. “Whoa, where’d that come from?”

“I was just thinking.” Zhengting dragged his finger around on the counter and said nothing more. You looked at him funny and then proceeded to finish your coffee as if nothing had happened.

“That’s never a good thing for you,” you joked back.

“Yah! Your smartass is showing too much!”

“Or maybe it’s because you’re too much of a dumbass.”

“Ugh, forget this. I’m going home.” Zhengting laughed a little and swiped your car keys from you, pretending to head off with them.

“What about me, you inconsiderate punk?” You jumped on his back and yanked his arm down, desperately prying athis fingers. What was with him today?

“There! Now I really get to go home.” You smiled triumphantly, walking out of the door with a huge new ego.

Zhengting just chuckled and turned off the lights, locking the doors before heading home himself. It was true, he loved annoying you. But he loved it more when he made you smile.

_______________________________________________________________________

You couldn’t help it. Your smile would just not disappear. It had to be completely normal, right? How could one’s smile disappear when they had received an acceptance letter from Seoul University as a foreigner? You almost jumped out your bedroom window, wanting to show Zhengting the letter, but miraculously refrained from pitching yourself out 50 ft into the air onto gravel down below and waited with close to no patience until your shift had started.

At five o’clock in the morning, you raced to the coffeeshop with more speed than you had ever run in gym class and probably more speed than you will ever run in a zombi apocalypse and burst into the staff room, banging the door so loudly that it ricocheted and almost hit you back in the face.

“ZHENGTING!” you yelled, jumping on him again.

“Whoa there, tiger. Calm the hell down. Did you get into Seoul U or something?”

“See for yourself!” You shoved the envelope in his face excitedly.

“I can’t see anything,” Zhengting said in a muffled voice. “Lemme see this.” He tore the envelope from your hand.

“Don’t crinkle it!”

“I’m guessing you got in then,” Zhengting smiled genuinely and opened the envelope carefully, skimming over the letter and stopping at the last sentence. “You smartass. I knew you would make it.” He ruffled your hair affectionately, but it ended up looking like a wild bird’s nest.

“Yah! You-” you protested, trying to fix your hair. “So this is how you congratulate me?”

“I’m proud of you, smartass. Let’s get back to work,” Zhengting winked.

You smiled at him, knowing that he was sincerely happy for you. You two had been friends for years, so of course you could read that on his face. However, you could also hint that there was a bit of disappointment on his face. What could he possibly be worrying about? Did he not get into the college he wanted? You dismissed it temporarily and stepped out the doors feeling more confident and ready for work than you had ever been in your career there. You made sure to give your absolute best in customer service today, and even surprised yourself when you volunteered to wipe down tables and wash the dishes.

Zhengting watched you with a longing expression. He knew this would be one of the last moments he would ever get to spend with you before you left for Seoul. You didn’t know that he would miss you so much he would never have the same work attitude again just because you weren’t there. Zhengting watched you nonchalantly wipe down the tables and hum a familiar tune, admiring your figure for the last time and making sure to remember it forever. He had wanted to confess to you soon, but apparently “soon” wasn’t soon enough. Now you were leaving even sooner.

You lazily dragged the towel across the countertop when you were finished and proceeded to head back into the kitchen to start washing the dishes. As this was probably your last day here, you wanted to be of as much help as you could to the coffeeshop you loved working in so much, mainly because of Zhengting. You admit that you had to thank him in the first place for giving you such great memories throughout your childhood.

If it weren’t for him, you might not have even gotten a job here. And finally the feeling of missing him terribly slapped you in the face. How could you have been so blind? You were so excited about getting into the school of your choice that you had completely forgotten about the reason why you had the confidence and the potential to be accepted into such a school: Zhu Zhengting. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Hey.” Zhengting pushed a small styrofoam cup your way. The last coffee date you’d ever have with him was beginning, and somehow you wished it would never end. You smiled and picked it up, suddenly feeling silly for wanted to keep the cup as a memory to reminisce the days you’d worked here.

“Thanks.”

“And I have something else for you too.” He drew out a box from behind his back and slid it across the counter towards you. Surprised, you turned over the box in your hands a couple of times.

“What’s this for?” You unlocked the clasp that locked the box together and found yourself looking at something you knew would touch your heart forever.

“Remember this?” Zhengting smiled the instantly he saw you smile at the pair of star earrings that used to belong to your mother. Perhaps she had gone off with another man ever since the divorce, but you knew that she never forgot about you. She’d left those earrings just for you, but then a month later you had lost them and gone to Zhengting to cry about it. This was when you were ten years old. Now you had to confess that you’d never really thought about them again. You’d never expect that they would turn up again, much less in the hands of Zhengting.

“But how did you get these?” you asked him, closing the box finally.

“I have my secrets,” he said slyly.

You were confused at his sudden generosity. Zhengting had always been one to play around, throw around a couple of jokes, and tease you in every possible way he could. For him to be this sincere was a completely different image to you. For the first time since the two of you had been friends, you saw Zhengting as other than just the little kid who used to push you on the swings in the neighborhood playground every day. You saw him as someone who had really matured and grown up.

“What are you staring at?” Zhengting wondered in amusement.

“You- uh, I mean thank you, Zhengting. I definitely won’t lose these ever again, and I’ll wear them all the time in Seoul.” You just smiled back at him, refusing to admit that he looked different to you now. How could he possibly have known where your mom kept her valuable things even after she died if he wasn’t interested in it, and how was he that dedicated to find those for you? And for what reasons?

_______________________________________________________________________

It had been a year since you’d moved out of the country for Seoul University. She really left. The idea had hit him harder than a car accident probably would. Without you, working at the coffeeshop had obviously never been the same.

Zhengting didn’t really pay attention to the shifts of new co-workers that came in and out to replace you over the past year. He hid his friendly, outgoing self with a more modest mask. As he turned over the dirtied “Open/Close” sign on the door one night, the new co-worker began wiping down tables.

He knew that she, too, was one who had feelings for him but he ignored that fact. Even the way she wiped down the tables was not as appealing to him as the way you had done it. It was a whole other level of missing somebody that he had. He missed the way you and him always had soap fights when washing dishes. He missed the way you always walked into work with a smile on your face and kept it that way as you handled customer service. He missed the way your beautiful, long fingers tapped on the touch-screen cash register.

He missed coffee dates with you.

He knew it was against the rules to suddenly pull out his phone during work, but his fingers were itching to get in contact with you again. He’d done the same only a few days after you left, remembering that he had worried about seeming desperate since you didn’t know about his silly crush on you still.

You hadn’t had the chance to come back over the holidays you’d had that year, and he was even more devastated but generously understood how busy you were. You were studying at one of the top universities in eastern Asia. Just as he was opening the chat you guys had, the co-worker called out, “I’ll be going, Jungjung!” 

Zhengting didn’t even look up at his subtley rolled his eyes while she hung up the towel. “Can you please not call me that?” Ever since you used to scribble his weird nickname on the schedule, all the other workers had seen it as well and loved to tease him. But he’d only allow you to call him that. “Just call me Zhengting.”

“Okay,” she said, not seeming to pay any attention to what he’d just said. Zhengting sighed as she finally left the shop.

He walked to the counter where you two always had your coffee dates. Something was different about the counter. Although it was pretty much empty, he saw on the end of the counter that there was a small green box sitting there, with one of the shop’s lights shining on it like a spotlight on a main actor in a play. Curious, he reached for the box and almost made a noise of surprise when he saw his name on the back.

“This must be a gift from the boss for all the hard work I’ve done,” he jokingly praised himself. 

With hesitant fingers, he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Surprised, he found a silver and bronze chain, the kind he had always wanted to attach to his black pants. He couldn’t think of anyone who could’ve possibly known that he had wanted it, except…

His fingers hit something papery at the bottom of the box. His eyes breezed over the words and his breath caught in his throat as he read the words over and over again, feeling that what was happening now was completely unbelievable. He looked around quickly, but as usual, he was the only worker left in the shop. Suddenly, a sliding sound across the counter startled him. A cup of his favorite espresso was being pushed towards him. As the familiar smell met his nose, his smile brightened.

He pushed himself up onto the counter and peered at the person crouched below the counter, trying to hide herself. “You’re finally back.”

Zhu Zhengting,

First, I apologize for not acknowledging your feelings earlier. I think I knew in myself that I had those feelings for you as well. At first, Seoul University seemed like a good idea. But as I went through this past year, I found that I didn’t really enjoy studying far away from you after all. I haven’t been doing too well because of being homesick. If I can’t be where you are, I don’t think I would be able to live my life very well. So I transferred to Anhui University, where we can be reunited again. I chose to come back to you, because I love you. I hope you’re not disappointed in me.

Zhengting felt your beautiful, long fingers against his broad back as he engulfed you in the biggest bear hug he could ever give someone. When he breathed in your scent, it was just like waking up and smelling the coffee.