#also count this as my weekly soup post

[digitalachilles]

Sorry for yet another missed deadline sir I was up all night cooking a nice hot bowl of soup for the mutuals it really could not be helped

[pumpkin-spike18]

✨Weekly Progress #51-52✨ +Happy New Year 2024✨

I've been thinking about the past year for the last few days and struggled with how to talk about it.

But, let's start with the weekly progress reports, before I miss the ability to do it for 2023.

Weekly Progress #51

Linearted 4 SYVNH BGs

Answered more BWOBK edit comments

Yes, it's the same image as last time since... the 4 linearts were done by the time I posted the last update.

Weekly Progress #52

Scripted BWOBK S1-S3

Submitted the demo for The Beauty Which Only Beast Knows to Winter VN Jam and Once Upon a Time VN Jam

The demo is now available for download here!

...Oh my god, I forgot I start my weeks on Mondays. My brain got really confused for the twitter version of this update 😅

I'll be making a separate post for it tomorrow (or Akua would), but BWOBK is finally out! ...Well, the demo for it anyways. The last week has been a blur of editing, scripting, and final playtesting. I was working quite frantically so I didn't record all of my tasks for the past week.

...Which, to be fair, didn't amount to much other than working on BWOBK. Our team wanted to accomplish a lot for this jam, but as the final week approached, we knew we had to cut back a bit if we wanted to submit anything to the two jams so we discussed and agreed to submit a demo.

Please look forward to a full release in January 2024!

Looking Back at 2023 ⏳

Visual Novel Development

Last year I made this tweet to celebrate what I accomplished in 2022.

A total of 5 VNs was an amazing feat I didn't think I'd accomplish. I was prepared to never beat this record again. Yet, lo and behold...

This year, I submitted nine projects.

1 Updated Demo:

I counted this as a submission since my update was about 50k new words, all new BGs, and like 14 CGs (I forgot the exact number). Sadly, I couldn't make it to the finish line of a full game. That'll be 2024!

4 Solo Projects:

These are four short visual novels I did for a variety of jams (three of them were for about week long game jams). They're all playable in browser and shouldn't take longer than 20 minutes each to play.

one last time. is a standalone entry.

kill your feelings., spirit killing curse, and Exorcist Killing Lie are separate stories set in the same world of ghosts, unreliable gods, and exorcists. I've been calling it the Kill Series and I hope to work on it more in 2024.

4 Team Projects:

I participated in another four visual novel projects this year! Two of which were demos, and one even won second place in the Spooktober Visual Novel Game Jam!! That was a real surprise! Although everyone in the team worked super hard, I don't think any of us expected it. So it was really a great and amazing surprise that had all of us shocked with happiness!

The Beauty Which Only Beast Knows is a demo I'm the main writer for. I also wrote one of the routes for The Final Prize is Soup, which is the second place Spooktober 2023 winner!

I provided the art for For the First Time.

And I did the programming for Saintess Alasdair is Dead.

All of these visual novels (plus more from previous years!) can be found free to play on my itch profile!

I think, next year, I won't be able to beat this record 😂 In fact, I hope I don't... As happy as I am to have performed such a feat, it was very exhausting and took a lot of energy out of me. I just hope to finish my ongoing projects in 2024.

Other Creative Goals

Here is another tweet from early 2023:

I wasn't able to spend a lot more time animating, and it's hard to gauge improvement on my own, but...

I did it! I completed 24 illustrations!

This has been a mix of OC art, fanart, a couple gifts, and a couple commissions. Hopefully, next year I'll be able to not "cheat" by adding commissions to the mix... 😂 I'm very proud of my commission works, but I did say it was supposed to be personal art.

I actually spend the last three months drawing 10 of the illustrations. To be exact, I drew 14/24 drawings in the second half of 2023... This was alongside working on a variety of CGs and BGs for games, a couple fancomics, and some design work that didn't feel quite "illustration" worthy.

Other

As a number of you might have noticed, or if you're one of my closer friends in devtalk... I quit my job!! Which, may sound like a bad thing, but I'm actually quite relieved. I finally freed myself from something that felt like it had been chaining me down for years.

I did it with no plans, just enough savings for a short while. Hopefully, this will be the wake up call I need to improve my life and find a job I enjoy. I took a few months off so I'm ready and back for the job hunt in 2024! (...So in about an hour from me writing this, haha)

Speaking of the job hunt... I also started accepting commissions on vgen! I don't know if I want to pursue a creative career, but it isn't out of the question.

If you're interested, I'll be opening for a week or so in 2024 before I close to work on projects again until June or something. (wink wonk 😉😉)

Finally, I'm really happy to have joined the Ace Attorney fandom this year. I started replaying the games around September and searched for a fandom discord on a whim. I've met some really great writers and artists since! Everyday getting to talk about gay lawyers have been great and reminded me of an almost lost fun from my childhood.

So if any of you from there see this post, hello! Thank you for giving me such a warm welcome! I really enjoy spending time with you all!

And someday, I WILL kidnap you guys into making a visual novel with me.

I participated in my first online fan event thanks to everyone there and it was a lot of fun. I hope to do more with everyone soon!

Well, that's all! If you made it all the way down here, thank you for reading! 2023 has been an interesting ride and I look forward to 2024.

It's currently 11:12PM for me here (I made it, I finished writing before midnight!) but, this is probably as close as I can get before getting distracted by a video or other work so...

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[recurring-polynya]

BLEACH Anime Celebration

Day 3 Prompt: Time to Celebrate -The characters are celebrating a Soul Society-specific holiday -Cooking is involved -One character is trying and failing to hide something -Is based on or features the theme of ‘belonging’

I spent so much more time on this dumb idea than I intended to. Does "Squad Ten Day" even count as a holiday? Maybe it's more like a bank holiday. I probably could have done better, but I really liked the idea that it was on 10/10, the same day as the anime premier.

Anyway, I would like to dedicate this to @bleachbleachbleach primarily because of their post about Matsumoto's soup (which based on my research might be kenchinjiru?) but I put another special B3 reference in there, too, for funsies.

| ao3 | ff.net |

🍲 🍶 ⚽

“Abarai,” said Chad, “why are we here?”

Renji leaned on the doorbell again, shifting the cardboard box he was carrying onto his hip. “Because we’ve been in the World of the Living for over a month now, and Rangiku is starting to lose it,” Renji deadpanned.

“But why are we at Ichigo’s house?”

“My understanding is that Inoue’s kitchen wasn’t big enough.”

For what? Chad wanted to ask, but didn’t suspect he would get a straight answer, so instead he asked “Is Ichigo back?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

Ayasegawa answered the door, bringing the surrealness of this encounter to new levels. “Happy Squad Ten Day,” he said dryly.

“Happy Squad Ten Day,” Renji replied in the same tone of voice.

“Is that Abarai? Did he bring it?” Madarame’s excited voice rang from somewhere inside.

“Yes and yes!” Renji hollered back as Ayasegawa stepped aside to let them both into the entry.

“What’s Squad Ten Day?” Chad asked gingerly as they stowed their shoes and jackets before heading into the main part of the house..

“It’s October tenth,” Renji explained. “You know. 10/10.”

“It’s one of those silly little Gotei things,” Yumichika added. “Like a birthday, but for the whole squad. Some squads take it more seriously than others.”

“Like Squad Ten,” Chad guessed.

Renji made a face. “It’s not that they take it seriously, but Rangiku always likes to throw a party. Squad Ten Day is traditionally open-invitation anyway, and…” He gave a big shrug. “We’ve all been a little on edge, y’know? She wants to do some big-batch cooking, I’ll show up and eat it, that’s just the kind of stand-up guy I am.”

“REN-JIIIIIIII!” Lieutenant Matsumoto sang, throwing herself over the Kurosaki’s breakfast bar to wave at them. “Congratulations! You’re now the Sixth Seat of Squad-Ten-in-Exile! Unless you want to challenge for a higher seat?”

“I’ll pass,” Renji replied, hefting his box up onto the bar. “Hmm. Sixth Seat. Very nostalgic.”

“And Chad!! Oh, I’m so happy you came! You can be Seventh Seat! Renji, you get extra manju for bringing Chad!!”

“Yesssss,” Renji pumped a fist.

“Also, please challenge Madarame for Fourth Seat, he’s being a pain!”

“Just try it, Sell-Out!” Madarame growled from where he was lounging on the Kurosaki couch. “If I win, I get your manju.”

“Nah,” Renji shook his head. “Rather have my manju and no paperwork, thanks.” He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and flopped into it. Chad took the seat next him, a little more carefully.

“There’s paperwork?!” Madarame exploded. “I’m only here for the food and booze!”

“There is no paperwork,” Captain Hitsugaya said dryly. Chad hadn’t even noticed him, sitting on the far side of Kurosaki’s kitchen table. “Aside from the weekly mission reports you’re supposed to be turning in, of which I have received zero.”

“I’m not a shinigami,” Chad pointed out, a few beats behind the rest of the conversation. “I’m not sure I should have a seat.”

“Oh, of course you can have a seat!” Matsumoto said, waving a ladle. “This is Squad Ten-in-Exile. All comers welcome. We don’t have standards. Kon is the Third Seat. We’re only assigning seats by order of arrival. Isshin also refused to take a seat, he said…” Rangiku trailed off suddenly. “I need to stir my soup.” She suddenly became very interested in a big pot of something that was bubbling on the stove.

“Ichigo’s dad is here?” Chad echoed.

As if on cue, the back door slammed open and the man himself walked in wearing an apron over one of his usual brightly patterned shirts. Kon, in his little lion body, was perched on Dr. Kurosaki’s head. “The grill is hot! Where are those sweetfish, my sweet Rangiku?”

“They’re in the fridge where you left them!” Rangiku yelled back crossly. “And don’t call me that, man who I just met this afternoon!”

Dr. Kurosaki blinked at her for a moment, then his eyes slowly panned across the room. “Abarai! Sado! So glad you could make it!”

“Yo,” Renji replied, waving one big hand.

“Er, hello, Dr. Kurosaki,” Chad said. “I, um. I didn’t know. That you. Um. Knew. About.” He looked around at the assortment of shinigami strewn around the room. “This.”

“What, that my son has taken on part-time employment as some sort of mystical psychopomp?” I know things!” Dr. Kurosaki regarded Chad with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t suppose they’ve got you guiding souls to the afterlife, as well?”

“Er, no,” Chad hedged. “I just…help Ichigo sometimes.”

It occurred to Chad that it was good they were doing this in the middle of the day, while Ichigo's sisters were at school. Then, he immediately began hoping that Dr. Kurosaki wouldn't think to ask him why he wasn't at school.

It didn't seem to occur to Dr. Kurosaki, who clapped Chad on the shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “You have no idea what joy that knowledge brings to my heart! I already knew about Miss Inoue, but his old boon companion, Sado, as well? My lucky son, to have such stalwart comrade!” He leaned over and said conspiratorially, “These shinigami are nice, but they’re already dead, how much can you really trust them?”

“Not Nee-san!” Kon protested. “Nee-san is the most beautiful and trustworthy person in either world!”

“Very true!” Dr. Kurosaki declared. “Of course I was not speaking of my beloved third daughter, whom I heard was supposed to be sending us a care package.”

“Oh, right, how did I get so distracted!” Matsumoto squealed, flouncing over to Renji’s cardboard box and ripping it open. She pulled out an old-fashioned ceramic sake bottle and rubbed it against her cheek happily. “Ohhhhhhh, I have missed you, baby! The sake in the World of the Living simply isn’t the same.”

“What did we get?” Ayasegawa asked, wandering over to help investigate. “Paint thinner or liquid gold? You honestly can never tell with our dear friend Rukia. Not that I’m not grateful for either.”

Rangiku stuck out her lower lip as she read the text on the bottle. “Kanetaka ‘Maple Splendor.’ I haven’t heard of that particular one, but Kanetaka is high end. It’s one of Captain Kyouraku’s favorites.”

“It’s their fall seasonal offering,” Renji mumbled, leaning his chair back on two legs, just like Ichigo did all the time. “Very dry. Great with fish.”

“Look who’s fancy now!” Matsumoto teased.

“Shut up. I never saw what was in that box, for the record. ‘Miscellaneous, mission-related supplies,’ that’s what I made Urahara write on the matter-conversion-service receipt.” He jerked his chin toward Captain Hitsugaya. “Also, you didn’t hear that, Captain.”

“Noted,” Captain Hitsugaya sighed. “At least you get receipts.”

“I am very curious as to how the alcohol of the Land of the Dead compares to our own,” Dr. Kurosaki announced, pulling down some sake cups from a high cupboard. “See what I have to look forward to when I eventually shuffle off this mortal coil.”

“I want some too!” Kon insisted.

“If my math is correct, you are five months old,” Dr. Kurosaki pointed out. “And a stuffed animal.”

“I was a pill for hundreds of years, though!”

Ayasegawa had been rummaging around in the box, setting more bottles of sake out on the bar, along with a few packages that looked like they might contain other treats. He suddenly came up with a carefully folded letter. “What is this?” he exclaimed dramatically. He squinted at the address, moving the envelope nearer and farther from his face, as though he was having trouble reading it, even though he obviously wasn’t. “‘Lieutenant Abarai Renji, Sixth Division Assistant Captain’, do we have one of those?”

“Give me that,” Renji growled, jumping up and making a grab for the letter.

“It’s got a little bee drawn down in the corner!” Ayasegawa exclaimed. “What could that possibly mean?”

“B-cipher,” Renji grunted, palming Ayasegawa’s face and successfully wrenching the letter out of his hand.

“Watch the booze!” Matsumoto scolded, hugging her bottle to her chest protectively.

“Oooh, a coded letter!” Kon exclaimed, jumping onto Renji’s shoulder as he settled himself back in his chair. “I am experienced at cracking Nee-san’s genius puzzle-writing!”

Renji regarded Kon with an amused look in his eyes. “What, she leave you a note in tanuki-code or something?”

Kon’s little mouth opened and then closed again. “It was a very sneaky code.”

“Mm,” Renji said, unfolding his letter. “B-cipher is a top-level Rukia encryption, though. A lot harder to crack.” He held it up for Kon’s inspection. “What do you think?”

“Oh,” said Kon.

Chad didn’t mean to be nosy, but he glanced over before he could stop himself. It didn’t matter. Instead of writing, the page was covered with a series of dashes in big swirls and curls, like the way you would draw the path of a bee in a cartoon. The more he looked at it, the more he realized that some of the dashes were dots, or double-dashes. It made sense, of course. Kuchiki was a very clever and tricksy person. Chad could never come up with his own system of writing like that. It would be pretty cool, in his opinion, just to be able to decode it in his head the way Renji was clearly doing.

“Things are pretty quiet in Soul Society,” Renji reported, his eyes scanning the page. “Rukia says Inoue is doing great with her training. The Bulletin put out a special edition, she saved us a few copies. Oh, here’s some good news! She says Captain Ukitake agreed to handle the real Squad Ten Day festivities.”

“Yay!” Matsumoto cheered softly as she filled a row of sake cups.

“Oh, good,” Captain Hitsugaya agreed.

“--apparently Captain Kyouraku volunteered to help.”

“Oh, no,” Captain Hitsugaya said.

“Ohhhhhh, I bet they’ll have so much funnnnnn,” Matsumoto moaned.

“But they will not have my delicious grilled ayu!” Dr. Kurosaki declared, snagging a cup of sake as he carried a tray of fish toward the back door.

“Also, Matsumoto soup,” Captain Hitsugaya said, with somewhat uncharacteristic tenderness. “I guarantee you people will talk about the lack of soup.” Despite the fact that he was sitting in the corner and grumbling a lot, Chad got the sense that he was actually much more relaxed than usual, perhaps in honor of the occasion.

“Thank you, Captain,” Matsumoto replied glumly. “Also, you bought those manju from the bakery Orihime recommended. They look really good.”

“The manju do look really good,” Hitsugaya nodded.

“I’ve been wondering…” said Chad slowly. “What does Squad Thirteen do for their special day? Since there are only twelve months?”

“That’s a good question,” Matsumoto frowned. “Renji, do you know?”

“I asked Rukia about that once,” Renji remarked. He was still reading his letter, slowly rotating it sideways as he read around a curve. “All she would say was ‘every day is a party at Squad Thirteen.’”

“I didn’t think of this earlier,” Madarame interrupted, “but if we get to November 11 and the war hasn’t started yet, Yumi and me’re going home. I will miss the Tournament of Blood for an actual war, but if it’s still just waiting around, we’re out.”

“Agreed,” Ayasegawa nodded firmly. “Actually, we’ll need to go home…probably around the ninth. The Tournament of Blood doesn’t plan itself.”

“It’s just brackets. We can make brackets here,” Madarame wrinkled his nose and took a sip of his sake. “Wow! What is this stuff? Sake isn’t supposed to taste good.”

Ayasegawa ignored the sidebar. “For you, it’s just brackets! I have to do catering! Decorations! Graphic design! It’s not like I can simply employ the services of some Living World printmakers. Do they even have those here?”

“I know how to make flyers on the computer,” said Chad, who occasionally did up signs for his gym. He got a membership discount in exchange for occasionally doing a bit of cleaning and odd jobs around the place. He liked making the flyers best though. He liked taking his time and making them look cool. He even had a cool drippy blood font from a boxing tournament they had run last spring that he bet Squad Eleven would really appreciate.

Ayasegawa’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s just text, though, right? I want something really colorful. Maybe even a picture, like a snarling tiger or a scorpion.” He scrunched his fingers for emphasis.

“I can do those things,” Chad reassured him.

Ayasegawa blinked. “Oh! Well… I would be very interested to see what you can do.”

“Sure,” said Chad, wondering if there was any way to email a file to Soul Society.

“Normally, I wouldn’t even consider this,” Madarame declared, “but since half the fun of making brackets is shouting about them, you can help if you want, Abarai, you deserter.”

Renji had gotten very engrossed in his letter, and he looked up suddenly, his cheeks and the tips of his ears very pink. “Huh? What? Tournament of Blood? No one loves the Tournament of Blood more than me, but I’m not bailing on the mission for it.”

Madarame let out an exasperated sigh. “Brackets, Abarai, I asked if you wanted to help with brackets. Like I would let you participate. Maybe I would let you fight Iba. Special charity match for losers.”

“Ohhhh, brackets. Sure, why not? That’ll be a ‘no’ on fighting Iba, though. I always have to fight Iba in the Tournament of Blood. Maybe he deserves a year off from getting his ass kicked.”

“You’ve gotten really lame since you joined Squad Six, pal. I think you should come back.”

“I’ve gotten really lame since we’ve been in the Living World for a month (no offense, Chad, I cherish our time together). Also, it’s my day off. I just want to get drunk and eat Matsumoto soup. Speaking of which, someone pour me some of Captain Kuchiki’s good sake, please and thank you.”

“What is Squad Six day like, anyway?” Yumichika asked, fetching Renji a cup of sake. (“Would you like one, Sado?” “No, thank you. I’m only 16.”) “It can’t possibly be as dreadful as it is in my imagination.”

“Well…” Renji drew out and then took a long sip of his sake. “I don’t know what it’s normally like. It was my first day.”

“That’s a funny coincidence!” Kon commented.

“It wasn’t a coincidence. Captain thought that would be cool, I guess, who knows. Anyway, there were speeches. Captain gave a speech. Old Vice-Captain Shirogane gave a speech. I gave a speech. There were poetry recitations. There was a kidou demonstration. There was a tea ceremony. It was…it was really something. The day felt like it was about nine thousand hours long.”

“But was there soup?” Matsumoto asked, pointing her spoon at him.

“There was not, but there was the ritziest sushi spread I have ever seen, and this caliber of booze,” he said, tapping his cup. “I was kinda too nervous to enjoy it, a mistake I will not repeat next year.” He took another sip of his drink. “Also next year, I might ask if, since we don’t need as many speeches, if maybe I could add something in. A little Assistant Captain Abarai spice. Stone-lifting competition. Historical battle reenactment. Something like that.”

“I prefer soup,” Matsumoto said, tasting her efforts. “I think it’s ready, actually. Is anyone ready for soup?”

There was a bright chorus of “Me!”s and “Yes!”es. Chad savored the feel of a living room full of death gods sounding very much like a group of elementary schoolers being offered a treat.

Captain Hitsugaya was given the first bowl (“because he’s the captain”), but seat order apparently didn’t matter after that, because Chad got the next one (“because he’s the nicest”, according to Matsumoto, but no one argued). That was where Chad stopped paying attention because he was busy eating soup. It was delicious. Chad kept all of his abuelo’s cooking in a separate category in his mind, but this might be the best Japanese soup he had ever eaten. He was halfway through it before realizing it was vegetarian, the broth was so savory and warming, crowded with hearty root vegetables and thick, meaty mushroom slices. A good soup for October.

Dr. Kurosaki returned bearing a beautiful platter of grilled ayu, crispy and fragrant. Matsumoto perched primly on one of the barstools and detailed all the substitutions she had to make for the soup. Chad wouldn’t have expected Captain Hitsugaya to be sympathetic to this sort of thing, but maybe he just disliked the World of the Living, because he kept chipping in peevish statements of solidarity, and assuring her that the end result was up to its usual standard of quality. Madarame and Yumichika, whom Chad can’t possibly imagine cooking, loudly argued about whether things tasted more strongly in the World of the Living or if it was just and effect of the gigai. Kon kept whining about wanting a taste, until Matsumoto tried to push a carrot into his little lion mouth. Dr. Kurosaki lamented that Matsumoto’s soup was killing him with nostalgia, and Chad wondered if maybe Ichigo’s mom used to cook something similar, and felt a little sad.

Chad felt a gentle elbow in his ribs. Renji had been quiet throughout the antics, engrossed in his letter while his soup sat ignored at his elbow. “There was a second page,” he said simply, handing it over. “For you.”

Chad couldn’t imagine what Kuchiki would have to say to him, and furthermore, he certainly didn’t know her special code. This letter wasn’t in code, though, and it wasn’t from Kuchiki. It was from Inoue.

“Dear Chad!

I hope you are well and that you are looking after Renji.

(Renji, if you are reading this, please stop! You have your own letter!)

Rukia worries about him a lot and I told her you are very responsible and would keep him out of trouble. I have complete confidence in you, but I just wanted you to know that we are all depending on you!!

It seems so strange to be training without you! Of course I miss Uryuu and Ichigo, too, but you and I have always done our most important training together! I am working very hard, though, and whenever I get frustrated and want to stop, I think about you at home training hard, too. If you ever get tired and grumpy, please imagine me saying “Keep going, Chad! You can do it! I believe in you!” Do you remember the time we were first learning our powers and we knocked a hole in that abandoned building and Yoruichi-san yelled at us but then we went and got soba afterwards? I think about that a lot.

Rukia has also been a very good training buddy! I am learning so much from her! Mostly we train, but she has shown me some neat parts of the Seireitei that I didn’t get to see last time, and I have met some of her friends. I am staying at her house, which is BONKERS NICE.

I was a little worried that her brother would be mean, since Ichigo said he was kind of a jerk, but Rukia says he is Trying to Do Better. Captain Kuchiki has been helping her with her kidou and sometimes I learn things from watching them. He never makes jokes but sometimes he says things that are so funny I think my stomach is going to explode. I wish I could show him Laugh Hour.

Tomorrow is a special holiday for Squad Ten, and we are going over there to help with their celebration. As weird as it has been already, I just can’t imagine Squad Ten being Squad Ten without Lieutenant Matsumoto and Captain Hitsugaya. [Three lines, scratched out]

I guess you will be having the same party in the World of the Living, which will not be AT Squad Ten, but WILL have Lieutenant Matsumoto and Captain Hitsugaya. That is not as good as being at the same party together, but maybe if we are all doing the same thing, we won’t notice so much that none of us are where we are supposed to be.

I hope that everyone likes the sake! Rukia and I had to very sneakily sneak it out of the Kuchiki Manor storeroom and then carry it all the way over to Squad Twelve where she convinced a very grumpy man with horns to get it to Karakura for us. Chad, I cannot tell you enough how impossibly cool Rukia is. I mean, we already knew she was cool, but she keeps getting cooler. Did you see that letter she wrote Renji?? She says that is a super-secret code that she couldn’t teach me, but she knows a lot of different ones and is even helping me make up my own! I wrote you a secret message below!! If you need help cracking it, you can ask Renji. Rukia says he’s not as good at codes as she is, but he knows how she comes up with them. It’s not a real secret message, it’s just for fun. I wrote secret messages for Uryuu and Ichigo, too, if they come back! Since you will have already solved yours by then, you can help them, but only if they are super nice to you and also admit that having a secret friendship code is super-cool. The very last one is for Tatsuki. It is in a different code. Please give it to her if you see her, but I trust you not to try to crack it. Thank you very, Chad! You are the very best and I miss you lots!

Orihime”

The letter covered the front of the page and spilled onto the back, but there was plenty of room below that for rows and rows of little squares of hashed lines, in different orientations. Three horizontal. Two vertical. A space. Two crossed like an x. It made Chad’s eyes swim. He had no idea how he was going to solve it. Orihime had made it, though, and if she thought he could do it, maybe he could. Maybe Abarai and he could work on it during rest breaks.

The last few lines, under Tatsuki’s name, were all flowers. Chad was no expert in flowers, but he knew these. Plum blossom. Hibiscus. Lily. Daisy. Iris. Camellia. Chad had no idea how you encoded a message in only six characters and it looked like it must have taken forever to draw. Inoue was a lot smarter than he was, though. He felt grateful for his hashes.

“Oi, Chad,” Renji murmured and Chad looked up suddenly. “Sorry. Was trying not to startle you. I’m getting more soup. You want seconds?”

“Er, yes, please,” Chad agreed. He had no idea how Renji had inhaled his soup so quickly. On the other hand, Renji ate faster and more voluminously than nearly anyone Chad had ever met, aside from possibly Rukia.

“Don’t fill up!” Matsumoto warned Renji as he made his way back into the kitchen. “We’re going to play Captain Hitsugaya Trivia to earn manju in a few minutes!”

“We are not,” Captain Hitsugaya insisted.

“That’s not fair!” Madarame roared. “Shorty’s gonna have a huge advantage!”

“He prefers ‘Captain Shorty,’” Ayasegawa reminded him.

“Hmm,” Captain Hitsugaya appeared to be reconsidering his stance on Captain Hitsugaya Trivia.

“You may be surprised,” Matsumoto nodded knowingly. “I was very creative with the questions.”

“We are definitely not playing,” Captain Hitsugaya concluded his deliberations.

“Chad and I are growing boys,” Renji pointed out. “We can eat soup and all the manju we are going to win at Captain Hitsugaya Trivia.”

“You’re full of it!” Madarame accused. “You don’t know crap about Captain Hitsugaya!”

“I’ve been friends with Momo for forty years and Rangiku for close to thirty. I’ve met his grandma. I also happen to know a lot about ice and snow zanpakutou, like, on a technical level.”

Madarame scowled. “I’ve been friends with Rangiku for longer’n you! Yumichika, how long have we known Rangiku?”

“Long enough,” Matsumoto and Ayasegawa said in unison.

“Yeah, but you don’t actually listen to the things she says,” Renji pointed out.

“That is true!” Madarame agreed angrily.

“I think I will also be good at Captain Hitsugaya Trivia,” Ichigo’s dad chipped in, rubbing the back of his head. “We just met this afternoon, but I feel a deep kinship between us! Also, I am an extremely good guesser.”

Captain Hitsugaya began to grumble inaudibly under his breath.

“I don’t really know very much about Captain Hitsugaya,” Chad admitted. “I probably won’t be very good. I’m sorry.”

Matsumoto flashed him a kind smile. “Oh, Chad, don’t be so serious! We’re just having some fun!”

“That’s right,” Captain Hitsugaya added. “We’re not actually playing Captain Hitsugaya trivia.”

“No, we definitely are, but everyone will get manju, and by everyone, I specifically mean Chad.”

“Another fact I know about Captain Hitsugaya,” Renji declared, sliding back into his seat and sliding Chad his refilled bowl, “is that he is very good at football. Coincidentally, so is Chad. And so am I.”

Captain Hitsugaya jabbed a finger at Renji. “That is a true fact!” His eyes slid sideways. “Matsumoto. I’ll let you be team captain if you give up on Captain Hitsugaya Trivia.”

Matsumoto took a deep breath and made a horrible face for several seconds. Finally, she let it out. “Okayyyyyy,” she agreed.

Dr. Kurosaki stroked his chin stubble. “My beautiful backyard, which I lovingly maintain, is just barely big enough for a three-on-three, with one substitute on each side. I will have you know, I was quite the hotshot player, in my youth.”

“You and Kon can be on our team,” Team Captain Matsumoto decided. “Renji can have Yumichika and Ikkaku.”

“We’re gonna whup your butts and take all your manju!” Madarame threatened.

“Come now, dear” Ayasegawa patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s keep things within the spirit of Squad Ten Day.”

“There are manju at stake,” Captain Hitsugaya pointed. “That was pretty squarely within the spirit of Squad Ten Day.”

“I can finish my soup first, right?” Chad asked. “It’s really good.”

“That,” said Matsumoto, “is also in the spirit of Squad Ten Day.”

[believerindaydreams]

Thursday again: solstice edition

which went by while I was busy, a Mood as of late

(for the new followers, a number of Tumblrs in my circle do a weekly post of Fun Things They Have Made/Done/Experienced. unless you're me and don't actually make things :)

Listening

I am being haunted by Pulp this week so let's make that everybody else's problem.

This one is not even, like, good. It merely reaches directly into my hindbrain and flips switches that I do not understand. That is ever and will ever be more important to me than "what are the lyrics" or "are you sure that legally counts as singing?"

Watching

As mentioned, was convinced to go see the new Miles Morales animation. Glad I saw it in the theatre cos the visuals of which I have never seen the like (no I didn't see the first one) looked incredible on a big screen. Laughed too much at the New York jokes. Not ficcable. Some things aren't.

Also I swore at the screen when the "To Be Continued" turned up but I guess that's what I get for not knowing anything going in. Serial fiction! It's back.

Writing

Lost some time due to the Bug infestation. Did not exactly lose time when days were spent going back and reworking prior bits, but these things gotta be done. I'm too long in the tooth to give up on my usual working methods of keeping something that looks like a cohesive narrative going before further portions are written.

Eating

You know what you can get in Nevada that you can't get on the southeast New England coast? Tinned crab. There are presumably logistical reasons for this but it's very funny consuming more seafood here than I did. You know. On the coastline.

Anyway with chickpeas and a smattering of spices, simmered for fifteen minutes on a stove, it's about eight hundred times tastier than canned soup for basically the same prep efforts.

Boozing

Pear cider is tasty, but less conductive to the flow of words than beer. Figures.

Reading

I am forcibly prying myself away from the entertaining trainwreck of the Failbetter Discord. And failing to do so. Rpeatedly. Womp womp.

[rememberthemilk]

Tips & Tricks Tuesday: Cooking with Remember The Milk

Cooking is a multifaceted job that requires equal parts planning, organization, and work. (Simmer for one week, season as needed.)

This week's thorough tip comes from brumley, who walks us through their whole process from planning and shopping to cooking and ongoing organization.

I love to cook and RTM has helped me a great deal. I have three lists I use (dinner, grocery, pantry). The Dinner List Like erlang, I also have a "dinner" list. I put all the dishes I have made before or would like to make. Each dish is tagged with #cuisine and #course but no due date. Because I have hundreds of tags, all my food-related tags are prefixed with an underscore _ so they are separated from my work tags. Cuisine is prefixed with + +italian +mexican +asian Course is prefixed with - -appetizer -side -main -dessert Later, the dish is used to tag ingredients in my grocery list: _tortilla soup _paella _tuscan chicken I use the url to add a link to any YouTube clip related to preparation, or if not available, to a webpage. I add several notes: 1. Ingredients 2. Preparation 3. Pairings (wine, side dishes, etc) 4. Leftover Ideas (grilled chicken --> chicken Caesar salad --> buffalo chicken wraps --> chicken and pesto pizza --> fajitas) 5. Search tags to recall grocery list i.e., tag:_paella AND status:completed When I am ready to plan, I search by cuisine and give the courses a due date I plan to make the dish. When done, I remove the due date. The Grocery List I have the items I usually buy at my local store in an Excel spreadsheet list. In Excel, I select the items I want to buy, filter the list, and email the list to RTM. My spreadsheet is set up like this: Column 1 - Store section Column 2 - Frequency (so I can filter list to hide infrequent items) Column 3-5 - Sorting categories (Produce-Fruit-Citrus, Produce-Vegetable-Root) Column 6 - The name I want to see in my list i.e., Orange or Potato Column 7 - Descriptive info i.e., Navel or Yukon Gold Column 8 - Qty Column 9 - a formula to convert the store section into an hour (necessary to reset the item count in column 10 when section changes) Column 10 - a formula to convert the item in the section into a minute (increments until section changes then starts back at 1) I have my list sorted by due date. The due date is Today Section:Item. I know I could have put them as a prefix, but I like the cleanness of this method. Column 11 - a formula to build the Smart Add line. It concates Column 6, Column 7 and adds due date in the form of ^Today at section;item. The formula looks at the header in column 8 and if it is more than three characters, it assumes this is an ingredient list for a particular dish and adds the dish tag i.e., _tortillasoup to the line. When completed, I select the drop down button on the autofiltered list in the Qty column and select non-blanks. I then select the items in column 10, copy and paste into an email to send to my RTM Grocery List. A completed line might look like this: Potatoes, Yukon Gold #_potatoeslyonaise ^Today at 01:01 Onions, Sweet #_potatoeslyonaise ^Today at 01:02 Butter, unsalted #_potatoeslyonaise ^Today at 15:01 Once in RTM, I can always go to my note for the dish in my dinner list and copy and paste the search string to pull up the shopping list then select and uncomplete. For things I normally keep stocked in my pantry and fridge, I selected the items in my Excel list and emailed to another list tagged with and called Pantry. Periodically, I will inventory the pantry. When things get low, I change the priority to 3, then 2, then 1. I check this list at the grocery store to see if I need to replenish.

Thanks for sharing this tip, brumley! You’re our Tips & Tricks Tuesday winner this week.

Do you have a suggestion for our weekly Tips & Tricks post? Got an interesting set-up or idea? Head over to the Tips & Tricks forum, add a new topic, and let us know how you use Remember The Milk. Each week we’ll give away a 1 year Pro account to the user whose idea inspires the Tips & Tricks Tuesday blog post for that week.

[kyuuppi]

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Love Around the City - Gavin (Part Three)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content not yet released in EN! 🍒

Previous Station: Yanbei District (Hongluan Temple)

Today’s Station: Meetery Eatery

This is the most popular and artistically-styled restaurant in Floral Road. Using unprocessed wood and iron art as its base decor, this place provides customers with a comfortable dining experience.

Meetery Eatery is currently holding a competition for chefs. The rule of the competition is for them to use limited ingredients to cook dishes that the patrons are satisfied with.

We’ve been asked to assist the chefs in selecting the ingredients. Since the customers must be satisfied, why don’t we understand the preferences of the customers first?

Location 1: Jade Bookstore

The refined yet somewhat nostalgic atmosphere in this small bookstore, the seats near the window and in the corners are very suitable for enjoying the slow passage of time and a book.

Head over to the Jade Bookstore to search for recipes and books related to popular ingredients to see if there are any new discoveries.

--

[ Idle Chat ]

MC: There are books on the administration of justice here...

Gavin: And this one is the latest edition.

MC: I’m curious about what the manager of this bookstore thinks when ordering stock.

Gavin: There are also some basic forensic investigation and jurisprudence teaching materials.

MC: The store manager... is a pretty outstanding person.

--

[ Task ] 

MC: “Loveland Food” sent me its latest weekly publication, and it recommended a recipe for warm foods suitable when there are cold currents.

MC: There’s scrambled eggs with spinach, crucian carp meatball soup, spicy vermicelli tofu, borscht with tomatoes and potatoes...

Gavin: There have been cold currents lately. When I was flying over to meet you today, I felt that the weather’s much colder.

Gavin: Fortunately, you’ve given me a full set of equipment to keep warm.

MC: In order to reward Officer Gavin who braved the cold currents, I’ll prepare you crucian carp meatball soup and spicy vermicelli tofu tonight. You have to finish them all.

Gavin: I promise to complete this mission.

Gavin: Also, could the warm soup count as part of my daily mission of drinking more warm water?

--

[ Mini Story ]

Floral Road doesn’t simply have all sorts of bars, entertainment and sights. Delicacies are also a huge specialty of this street.

Stepping out of the Jade Bookstore, I can’t help but stare at the newly opened dessert shop.

MC: Gavin, I’ll buy a cake and you can buy ice-cream. We’ll meet at the small letterbox in a while~

Gavin: Sure, I’ll be back soon.

By the time I finish buying the cake and step out of the shop, Gavin is already standing next to the small letterbox. Beside him, there’s also a camera.

Curious, I walk over secretively, wanting to hear what Gavin has to say.

Reporter: What a coincidence. I recall that this Mister accepted our interview last year. Are you and your girl participating in the “Love Around the City” event this year?

Gavin: Mm, we came here together.

Reporter: As compared to last year, have there been any chances for the both of you? For instance, in terms of lifestyle or your interactions with each other...

Gavin: There haven’t been many changes in terms of lifestyle. As for our interactions, we’ve become more in sync. 

Gavin: There are certain things that the both of us know even when neither of us say them aloud.

Reporter: What a blessed pair! Our next question...

Gavin’s responses to the interview are very simple and short, but every answer lands in my heart.

Reporter: As for the final question, are there any cute moments between the two of you that you could share with everyone?

Gavin: ...

Gavin turns his head. His gaze happens to meet mine, and he sends me a small smile.

Gavin: She’s cute enough just by holding a cake and waiting for me.

Location 2: Floral Avenue

Situated in Loveland City, Floral Avenue isn’t just a place where young people gather. More importantly, it’s a multicultural location where creativity is born.

Floral Avenue is also known as Loveland City’s Delicacy Street. There are many snack stalls, restaurant chains and internet trending cafes. Checking it out might enable us to find new inspiration.

--

[ Idle Chat ]

MC: I'm wondering if I should put a vase on your office desk and add a few flowers.

Gavin: Office desk? In the STF?

MC: Yup.

Gavin: If you’re able to drop by and take care of the flowers from time to time, that isn’t a bad idea.

Gavin: We could pick the flowers together.

--

[ Task ]

MC: I heard that a new McDanald’s opened here recently, and they introduced a new burger.

Street Musician: There are far too many branches of McDanald’s around. It’s better to go to Meetery Eatery, where I can get the same popular egg and patty hamburger.

MC: I’m also really interested in that egg and patty burger, but it’s so huge...

Gavin: We could split the work. You can eat first, and I’ll finish the rest.

Location 3: Alice Restaurant

This is a Western restaurant with lots of personality and live music. It was once selected as the “Top 10 Most Romantic Restaurants in Loveland City”. This is the first choice for many young people and those who go on blind dates.

Considering how popular this restaurant is, there are no lack of connoisseurs who have come to visit. From the looks of it, they should also be the target group of Meetery Eatery. Let’s interview the patrons in this restaurant to see if they have any new clues.

--

[ Idle Chat ]

MC: I think today’s suitable for eating pan-seared duck breast.

Gavin: The signature beef steak paired with borscht looks pretty good too.

MC: Mm...

Gavin: We’ll order both of them.

Gavin And we can exchange them.

--

[ Task ]

MC: Hello, we’re doing a study related to delicacies. May I know if you just finished eating at Alice Restaurant?

Passer-by: That’s right. But in order to lose weight, I only ate a vegetable salad, and felt even hungrier after that... I heard that the beef steak and fries from Meetery Eatery are really delicious, so I plan to make up for it with some saliva.

MC: “Felt even hungrier after that” is a common experience shared by everyone trying to lose weight.

Gavin: Just eat what you want to eat.

Gavin: When you’re full, you’ll have the energy to continue with training.

Location 4: Movie Theatre

This is the theatre with the most number of new movies. At the same time, it’s also the place to watch old movies. If you’re feeling nostalgic, why not come here and try your luck?

There are a number of elderly folk among the patrons in the competition venue. What kind of dishes do elderly people enjoy? Perhaps we should ask the elderly woman at the ticketing booth of the movie theatre and listen to her advice.

--

[ Idle Chat ]

Gavin: Eli has mentioned this movie theatre to me before.

Gavin: Apparently, it’s worth visiting.

MC: Eli knows quite a lot about these things.

Gavin: He’s all talk and no action.

MC: ...Eli better not know about this.

--

[ Task ]

MC: Granny, we’re doing a study on delicacies. May I know what kind of food you like most?

Granny at the Ticketing Booth: Elderly people don’t have many teeth left, and there aren’t many things we can eat.

Gavin: A few days ago, a colleague who takes care of the elderly mentioned some recipes suitable for elderly people. They mainly have liquid food and soft food.

Gavin: I heard that they taste pretty good. Next time, I’ll bring some over for you.

[Note] To avoid any confusion, Gavin’s talking to the elderly woman here, not MC LOL

MC: That’s right. Living till a hundred years old means that you have the right to enjoy delicacies for a hundred years!

Location 5: Old Items Market

Old Items Market is a magical place. Whether you’re searching for retro items or second hand discounted goods, this place will be able to satisfy you.

I just spotted Eli heading in the direction of the Old Items Market. Since it’s almost time for lunch, Eli should be heading to Meetery Eatery. Let’s see if we can have a “chance encounter” with him, and ask about his likes.

--

[ Idle Chat ]

MC: Let’s set up a small stall here next time!

MC: We could let go of some things that aren’t of use at home.

Gavin: I don’t think I have any old items that need to be removed.

Gavin: There’s quite a lot of space at home.

Gavin: Also, you were the one who added most of the decorations to my place.

--

[ Task ]

MC: I heard some rumours that all the new products from McDanald’s have been very popular, but their fish burger hasn’t made many sales...

Gavin: Eli bought them for the squad when we were out on a mission once. It’s pretty tasteless, but it’s filling.

MC: As expected, the only standard when on a mission is “filling”.

Gavin: That’s good enough. Delicious things should be left to being eaten with you.

[ EPILOGUE ]

Gavin: That place is really crowded. Want to take a look?

Gavin and I step out of Meetery Eatery, and see that the novelty store next door is filled with people.

Since Floral Road is the place where young people gather, all sorts of trendy items stock the shelves here.

MC: There seems to be a new series of blind boxes!

Gavin: Let’s try our luck.

Sure enough, Gavin detects the eagerness in my tone, and he guides me over to join the queue.

Gavin: Which one do you want?

MC: The secret edition piglet is pretty cute... but I want this little wolf most!

MC: Don’t you think it resembles you?

Gavin: ...I’m not as cute.

Despite what Gavin says, I can clearly see the unconcealed smile on his lips.

The both of us take a blind box each. After blowing on the box in my hand, I open it carefully.

MC: Wow, it’s the secret edition!

The adorable plush piglet lies in the blind box, and envious voices can be heard around us.

MC: Gavin, what did you get?

Gavin: A bunny.

Gavin shows me the plush toy in his hand.

MC: Ah, it’s a shame that we didn’t get the little wolf...

Gavin: It isn’t a shame.

He speaks suddenly, looking at the blind box. I lift my head in confusion.

MC: Huh? What do you mean?

Gavin: Nothing. I’m just saying that as long as you want something, it’d eventually be yours.

MC: Mm! But having the secret edition is great too! It proves that our luck is bursting today!

MC: For now, the little bunny and piglet can pave the way for us as we head to our next location!

Next Station: West Moon District

[hyuneytoast]

Stray Kid’s Cafes || OT8

Summary || Stray kids if they were to own cafes!

Genre || Fluffff

Word Count || 1.7k

Note || I wrote this at 2am. (And nervous as hell to post this) I thought it was a cute idea (cause my love fore cafes u know & longing to go to one but covid-) buuuuut... if you think it’s written poorly, my excuse: my half awaken mind and questioning sleep schedule. It’s also because I’m used to writing formally rather than this. Enjoy though ヽ(ヅ)ノ

⤑Bang Chan

Inside/Theme: Dark, moody, and very spacious. Plants in macrame and outlets everywhere. Grey concrete tables with chairs of dark wood and black iron. Either lofi or jazz plays in the background. Flooring patched with large black and white honeycomb tiles. Wood of deep and mysterious browns are made for walls. Glass pendants dangle from above. Perfect for relaxing or studying. Even more perfect to visit on rainy days.

Hours: 9am - 2am

Menu: Cinnamon rolls, espresso, frappes, omelets, sandwiches, croissants (plain or chocolate), salads, raspberry scones, hot chocolate

It’s like your presence just sparked something in Chan. You were a frequent customer, so not only Chan, but other employees recognize you. It just so happened that this day was the day Chan felt braver than others. When you went up to the counter and ordered a hot latte, it was the beginning of an endless exchangement of (cringey) pickup lines. And they were all based on coffee... “If you were coffee grounds, you'd be espresso 'cause you're so fine.” (oh dear god-) The both of you realizing you don’t have all the time in the world, you finish your order but Chan refuses you to pay with money. “Giving me your number sounds like a fairer trade.” And also, starting from this day, would always be some  note or saying written on the cup sleeve of your coffee.

⤑Minho

Inside/Theme: Cat Cafe! Small white stools and square tables. Windows as the walls with window sills where cats sleep. Cat toys scattered everywhere. Mini houses with beds and staircases hung on the walls. Like an indoor cat community. In the center is a giant wooden structure in the shape of a tree for cats to climb. Each one has a name. You receive a free slice of cake if you remember each cat’s name. 50% of the treats on display are just for the cats. (And of course, every cat there is up for adoption!!)

Hours: 8am - 10pm

Menu: Shortcakes, blueberry muffins, fruit sandwiches, cookies, lattes (with latte art of cats ofc), mochas, bagels, banana bread.

Scenario || You find a cat wandering the streets and get a hold of it, calling the number displayed on its tags. You eventually return it to the cafe. As a thank you, Minho freely gives you a treat off the menu and a free session with the cats. You two make time fly with endless conversations of your guys love for cats and his opinion on why cats should rule over humans and the entire world. When you're at home later that night, it’s 2am. Turns out Minho saved your number when you called for the loose cat earlier because he sent you photos of his own 3 cats. Many photos. And one with him and a funny/weird filter.

⤑Changbin

Inside/Theme || Open and welcoming, very convenient. A cafe kiosk placed in a park, sheltered by the tall swaying trees and surrounded by the small patches of blossoms. The kiosk is made of tan wood, outlined and roofed with black. The cafe space has a stretched out wooden platform next to it. Above is a wooden frame wrapped in string lighting. Iron benches and long tables. The experience is even more enjoyable during spring. 

Hours || 9am - 11pm

Menu || Iced tea, matcha crepe cakes, sandwiches, mocha bread rolls, raspberry lemonade, cappuccinos, ice cream (of many flavors).

Scenario || You should’ve known it was going to rain today. It’s like the huge grey clouds were trying to warn you through the whole morning. Before the pour, though, you strolled through the park and saw the cafe kiosk and let me tell you, those mocha bread rolls sounded good (especially on a chilly day). While sitting on the benches next to the cafe enjoying the mocha rolls, you feel the sky spitting on you and it only gets more aggressive. You look around and see everyone has an umbrella. Except you. Changbin invites you to wait out the rain inside his cafe kiosk (which you gladly accept). He also notices your joy from the mocha bread rolls and decides to show you how he makes it. It was messy (since your lack of baking skills were definitely no help), but fun for the both of you.

⤑Hyunjin

Inside/Theme || A neat and cozy atmosphere dipped in traveling dreams. Walls displayed with plants draping to its heart content and photos of sceneries and dogs (which Hyunjin gladly took and displayed himself). Low tables painted with faint hues of grey, placed against the walls. Linen lounges and small glass vases of baby breaths. Large windows with window sills lined with fuzzy pillows. Towards the back, a small staircase leading to a wooden platform holding up bookshelves.

Hours || 10am - 12am

Menu || Americanos, strawberry crepe cakes, savory crepes, honey toast, fruit tarts, fresh strawberry milk, paninis, strawberry mousse.

Scenario ||  You’re roaming the section where the bookshelves are. Hands drifting across the aligned books and head pondering what to read. You look next to your side, taking note of Hyunjin suddenly talking to you. He asks about your favorite genres to read. He also recommends you some of his favorite literature (which you eventually discover that majority of them are poems/stories of romance) and says it be fun to read them together, along with his treat of fresh strawberry milk. Reading sessions and strawberry milk became a weekly routine for the two of you.

⤑Jisung

Inside/Theme || Shelves of pastries for you to grab and put on a tray. Filled with an aroma of sweet coffee. Simple tables and benches made of deep browns. White counters tiled with a large honeycomb pattern. Walls are of a light grey. Next to windows are woven hanging chairs with cute cartoon animal characters. On the counter is a jar of stick props for photos ‘cause why not.

Hours || 9:30am - 10pm

Menu || Cheesecake (of many different flavors), chocolate cake, iced americanos, croissants, cake rolls, custard bread, cream puffs, egg tarts, tirimisu.

Scenario || You ordered a few slices of cheesecakes after asking Jisung which ones he recommended. It was quite obvious he loved cheesecake more than anything and of course you couldn’t order just one flavor! Along with the few cheesecakes, You also ordered an americano. After receiving your drink (and cheesecake), you found a small note taped on the cup: “If you want more cheesecake suggestions, ask me anytime!” Below was a doodle of a squirrel and his phone number. AND maybe... just maybe... You take a photo of your cheesecakes to show your friend and Jisung ends up photobombing half of the photos you took (with some of the props from the counter). And of course you don’t notice until your friend starts spamming you about the guy in the background.

⤑Felix

Inside/Theme || A video game cafe, sells mainly bubble tea. Very homey with couches and bean bag chairs. A few TVs hooked up to the Switch. Simple patterned rugs and walls of a faint blue. Cute cartoon stickers displayed on walls and concrete counters. White shelves of board games. 

Hours || 8am - 11:30pm

Menu || Bubble tea, brownies, cookies (of many kinds), bubble waffles, banana pudding, toast (sweet & savory), pancakes.

Scenario || You enter the cafe when it’s empty. You order a treat of your choice and make your way to play the Switch. With no other customer around, Felix decides it won’t hurt to take an extra break and play with you. (To beat you in a game or more of Super Smash Bros to be specific.) 1 game turned into countless that you both even lost track of your scores. And perhaps he got too distracted and almost missed the growing line waiting at the counter. But! Weekly video game tournaments between the two of you became something to look forward to. And maybe the two of you decided to play UNO one day and boy did the game put the two of you in a pit of raging hell.

⤑Seungmin

Inside/Theme ||  A comforting, more on the minimalistic side cafe. White brick walls, light grey flooring, and high beamed ceilings. Black pendant lights hanging, painting the cafe in light hues of honey. Long high tables with tall iron stools. Small potted succulents aligned on the table. White marble counters and pastries displayed in glass cake stands. 

Hours || 7:30am - 10:30pm

Menu || Lattes, croissant sandwiches, chocolate mousse dogs, crepes (sweet and savory), lemon poundcake, biscuits with peach jam, homemade soups.

Scenario || Lets just say your day has been extremely hectic. For a cure, a treat from your favorite cafe sounds like a good plan. Though, you end up entering the cafe five minutes after closing hours. Great. Seungmin, who is inside cleaning up one of the tables, notices (and also recognizes you’re the frequent customer he has gotten to be friends with over his shifts). He unlocks the door and happily lets you stay after hours. You have latte (which Seungmin actually draws a happy face on the cream) and a chocolate mousse dog while chatting with Seungmin. Thanks to Seungmin’s constant invitations, late orders and chats ended up becoming regular.

⤑Jeongin

Inside/Theme || Low platform seating and low round tables. Small jars of fairy lights and daisies. Background music is either lofi or indie. Walls of a comforting dark green and floors of dark wood. Framed cute doodles and warm signs decorate the walls. High ceilings with gold lamps hanging. 

Hours || 7:30am - 9pm

Menu || Milk bread, milkshakes, taiyaki (with different fillings), taro crepe cakes, fruit tea with popping boba, soufflé pancakes.

Scenario || You know that broken or no internet connection running dinosaur game (if not look it up and it’ll literally change ur life.)? Well, you brought your laptop to study but surely a game or two won’t be a big deal. And maybe playing also lended time to mentally prepare yourself just to ask for the wifi password. When Jeongin came to serve your cake order (a taro crepe cake or any crepe cake is a must try in life), he places the plate next to you and begins to speak as he notices your screen (where you keep running into pterodactyls and failing). And no, he wasn’t giving you the wifi password. “Can I try?” Beating each other’s high scores, still no wifi, and chatting. That’s how the rest of the afternoon went. (With Jeongin taking a break every now and then to help the customers of course.)

[digitalachilles]

One end of the scale is soup and the other is salad

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back ch. 5

First  -  Previous  -  Next  -  Read on AO3!

yo once again giving you guys a chapter how’s everyone doing? My posting dates will never again be on tuesday lol expect wednesdays or fridays when possible <3

anyways other business if you see an A/N in here somewhere (it’ll be between brackets) lmk and I’ll edit it out

Enjoy :)

cw: food, eating disorders, discussion of injuries

~

Jack didn’t leave to sell papes the next morning, instead bringing a cup of coffee and some porridge to Crutchie, then settling in beside him with a real fancy sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

The coffee wasn’t that great, but Crutchie drank it all, hoping the energy would distract him from the uncomfortable tightness of his fresh bandages. Only one of the cuts that had split open was one that had needed stitches (Katherine had snipped the thread and pulled it out three days ago), but they would all probably scar. At least he already liked to wear long shirts and pants.

The porridge was fine, but rich. After about four bites, Crutchie rested the bowl on the windowsill. Just weeks ago, he would’ve been able to scarf down twice that amount in a matter of minutes, but now he could barely handle eating enough to feed a baby. He was sure he’d get better faster if he’d just eat more, but he just--couldn’t.

This wasn’t even the first time Crutchie had seen kids have trouble eating. At least half the newsies who did a stint in the Refuge came back uneasy around food, too accustomed to there being too little to go around. A lot of food was a trick, just the right amount was too much to stomach, and the little bit that they felt they needed wasn’t enough to keep them going.

So Crutchie knew that what he was going through with his food aversion was normal--expected, even. The frustrating problem was that Crutchie knew how to fix it. He had seen the others go through this, had watched Jack and Race and Specs help others, had even guided Tommy Boy through recovery himself just a few months ago. He knew the signs, he knew how to work through it, and yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t snap himself out of it.

Just the thought of food made him queasy, scared, uncertain of what was to come. When the guards brought food, it meant the respite was over. It meant scraps shoved down his throat as quickly as possible, followed by a day of grueling, pointless work with no breaks. He didn’t have the time to finish this bowl of porridge. More than a few bites and he was going to be tardy, the guards were going to beat him and he would fall and he wouldn't be able to get back up, not again not again not again--

“Crutchie, you gonna finish that?”

Crutchie looked up from his lap to see Jack, concern creasing his brow. He shrugged, not sure if he could even pretend to smile. “I didn’t see you eat, wanted to save some for you.” He didn’t need anyone’s help. He knew how to handle this.

Jack frowned. “Nah, I ate on the way up, nicked a bun. Is there some . . . other . . . reason?”

Stupid Jack Kelly and his ‘subtle’ prodding. Crutchie stretched his arms out a bit, affecting a casual look. A bandage rubbed against a raw patch of his chest, but instead of burning, it . . . itched.

That meant he was starting to get better, right? Or was it infected or something? Whatever it meant, it was a good excuse.

“Not really, just been itchin’ all mornin’, so I ain't all that hungry,” he explained, scratching his stomach for emphasis. “Bit bothering, y’know?”

He was sure he didn’t quite have Jack convinced, but it was enough for him to drop the matter. After all, Jack was under the impression that Crutchie had eaten a whole apple the morning before, and he’d been fairly good at emptying bowls of soup all week (not necessarily into his mouth, but Jack didn’t need to know that).

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack smiled. “Hey, itchy, huh?” He lightly punched Crutchie’s knee, which also didn’t hurt like he expected. “That’s good, means stuff is startin’ ta close up and heal.”

Crutchie nodded, feeling something in his chest try to jump excitedly. Even after falling so badly last night, he was getting better. That meant that maybe soon, he could be right back out there, hawking headlines and getting enough pity from his regulars and strangers to make twice the amount he usually did.

Thinking of it-- “Jack, why ain’t you out sellin’?”

Jack looked away--ashamed? Guilty? What? Had he gotten in trouble with the bulls again already? Jack muttered something, then buried his face in his new sketchbook, the tips of his ears burning red.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” Crutchie said incredulously. “Who d’ya think I am, Race? I ain’t distracted that easy.”

Jack huffed, but didn’t drop his sketchbook. In a barely audible voice, he said very quickly “I soaked the Delanceys yesterday and the fellas think I oughtta stay away from ‘em and maybe take a day off ta give ‘em time ta forget about it.”

Okay, but attacking the Delanceys was something Jack did on a weekly basis. The Delanceys weren’t bright enough to carry a grudge overnight, and they were in a constant state of goading Jack, so what was different about this time?

Then Crutchie remembered their argument last night, what Jack and Davey had told him about how Oscar and Morris had been talking.

“Have they, uh,” Crutchie started, quiet, “been talking about . . . uh, ‘bout me . . . all week?”

Jack stiffened from behind his sketchbook, but nodded jerkily. “Tha’s what Specs said, anyhow.”

“Right.” Crutchie swallowed, looking away out the window. Buttons was out there, looped around a fire escape, calling something through cupped hands. The Delanceys were somewhere out there too, and could be talking about him that very moment, maybe even making plans to come after him. There was no way he could stop them, no way anyone could stop them. After all, Jack couldn’t be here all the time, and Kloppman was old, wiry but feeble compared to Oscar and Morris. They could take the man down in no time, then be up here and Crutchie would have nowhere to go and no way to escape.

Crutchie was suddenly very glad that Jack was here.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Crutchie continued to watch Buttons. His grin was visible even from this distance, growing wider any time he managed to sell a paper or two. Buttons had been having trouble selling lately--he was a little timid, too shy when it counts--so it was nice to see him having some success.

The lady talking to him now seemed nice, by the way Buttons was nodding and had fully disentangled himself from the fire escape to converse with her. The lady turned slightly, her face visible under her sun hat, and--hey! That was one of Crutchie’s regulars! She bought a paper on her way to visit her mother-in-law every other day, and always passed Crutchie’s selling spot on purpose. It was nice to see her again, almost . . . sentimental. Crutchie never thought he would feel almost misty-eyed over some lady whom he briefly interacted with a handful of times a week, but here he was. More than miss her, he missed being out there, he supposed.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie startled out of his thoughts. The woman was no longer there, Buttons once again attaching himself to the fire escape. Jack was watching him, a carefully disguised look of something on his face. Crutchie raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, so, I missed a union thing, what with last night,” Jack said. “So I’m gonna hafta do it today sometime. That cool with you?”

“What sorta thing?” Crutchie asked suspiciously. If it involved reporters and pictures and all that, Crutchie was not going to allow it to happen in here.

Not that you could stop it, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Jack could do anything to you right now. He was pretty angry last night, after all. You know what anger leads to.

Crutchie swallowed drily. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Oh, just a guy I gotta meet with,” Jack said, far too casually. He made a show of scratching his head. “He might bring another couple o’ fellas with him, so I’s just . . . lettin’ you know.”

Okay, so this wasn’t something he could stop. Great. That calmed him down so much. Crutchie gripped the blanket over him tightly, trying to not show that his hands had begun to tremble. He was fine, he didn’t need Jack getting all worried over nothing. It was just some . . . unknown guy. With bodyguards. Coming into the room to have a discussion with Jack.

“Hey. Hey.”

Crutchie pulled himself from his spiral to see Jack laying his hands over his. “It’s okay,” Jack said seriously. “I can chat with ‘em in another room, or outside. You don’t oughtta have guys in here that you ain’t know.”

Crutchie released his grip, more to assuage Jack than his nerves. He nodded, not sure what he was even expected to say. What if a fight broke out? And Jack was all alone, against three or four guys? He couldn’t let Jack be alone.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Crutchie said hoarsely. Wow, he needed something to drink. He hadn’t noticed his throat drying up. “I uh, I can be your second?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Of course Jack didn’t want him as his second! He was just some stupid, useless, injured cripple, and Jackhad to still be mad at him for last night. He’d want Davey there, probably--Davey was one of the union heads too, right? And Davey was so good at talking things through and being all smart. All Crutchie could do was make people laugh or feel bad for him--great for selling papes and living on the street, terrible for union business.

“Would ya?” Jack asked. He almost looked a little bit relieved, which took Crutchie aback. “You know how I can get. It’s--it’s nice, havin’ somebody backin’ me up. ‘Specially you, Crutch, you’s real good at talkin’ to folks.”

The air left Crutchie’s lungs. Was he? He was pretty good at selling to just about anyone. Jack used to joke that he would be able to sell a pape to Pulitzer himself for a dollar, without the man even realizing it was his own paper or too high a price. Jack would say that to just about anyone who would listen, actually.

How had Crutchie forgotten that?

“Who’s these folks, then?” Crutchie asked, shifting a bit so that his head was almost level with Jack’s. He liked to think that he was pretty accustomed to the broken ribs at this point--they hurt, but he could now sit up without even breathing heavy. After the week he’d had, Crutchie counted that as a win.

Jack’s carefully casual air was back, clear in the stiff lines of his body and the forced half-grin on his lips. “Just some guys who got a say in newsie union stuff, y’know? From one o’ the other turfs.”

That made sense, actually. The Manhattan newsies weren’t the only ones in the union, after all. In fact, if what Elmer had excitedly told him was true, Davey had shook hands with Spot Conlon and led him straight to Pulitzer’s office, after Conlon had spoken at Davey’s rally--

Oh.

Oh no.

“You’s bringin’ Spot Conlon to the place we sleep?!”

“It was--”

“No no no, lemme get this straight,” Crutchie said, incredulous. “Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn borough, is comin’ here. To Manhattan’s lodging house. Now I know that Brooklyn joined the strike, but there is no way we’s become friends with Brooklyn in the two weeks I ain’t been around, and ya don’t show allies where ya sleep.”

“They already knows where we sleep, there’s a huge sign on the buildin’!” Jack shot back. He dropped his work and gestured widely. “Manhattan newsboys lodgin’ house, in big ol’ letters, smack on the front! Was it s’posed ta be a secret? Or do ya think they just can’t read?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Crutchie replied stubbornly. “Ya don’t invite them into your home, you hold ‘em at arm’s length for when they in’vitably scab!”

“Well, that ain’t no way ta treat your allies,” a voice said from the doorway.

Crutchie and Jack both looked up to see the man himself, an unimpressed Spot Conlon, with two lackeys--and also Racetrack. Race waved casually.

“Hey Jack, hey Crutch!” Race said. “Spot’s here ta meet with ya.”

Jack strode across the room, spat and shook with Spot, anxiously adjusting his hat with his other hand. “Nice ta see ya, Conlon,” he said, the geniality in his voice a stark contrast from his heated arguing moments before. Crutchie snorted. Jack shot him a glare.

“So, what’s sayin’ we get straight ta business, Kelly?” Spot suggested, walking further into the room without invitation. Race tipped his hat at them all, then stuck his cigar in his mouth and took off. “This here’s Hotshot, and the other’s Sharpshooter,” Spot threw out, gesturing at the two guys with him. They each nodded in turn.

“Right,” Jack said, “This is Crutchie, he’s my second.”

Spot turned a piercing gaze on Crutchie. Crutchie felt his face heat up as Spot’s sharp eyes took in the patchwork of yellow-brown bruises on his face and throat, the scabbed-over gash on his temple, the splint wrapping his left arm. Finally, he turned away to face Jack.

“You met with Joe of late?” Spot asked. Jack nodded.

“Saw ‘im yesterday. No complaints from his side--he’s sayin’ they’s already noticed circulation goin’ up. You’s been meetin’ with the Journal and the Sun, yeah?”

Spot gave an affirmative nod. “We got ‘em where we want ‘em,” he said with a chuckle. Crutchie waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

Jack seemed sort of disconcerted--Crutchie wondered if Spot could tell. This was all happening so suddenly. Moments ago, Crutchie hadn’t even known anyone was coming. Now there were three Brooklyn newsies standing over his bed, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself or make them leave. Brooklyn was always angry, always jeering, doing nothing to strengthen the tentative peace they had come to a few months ago.  Really, Crutchie had good reason to be wary. Brooklyn newsies had more than once kicked his crutch out from under him.

Spot and Jack were talking about something, but Crutchie couldn’t really pay attention to them. The one called Sharpshooter was staring him down, in a way that said both I’m-trying-to-intimidate-you and I-don’t-need-to-intimidate-you-weakling. Hotshot was doing the exact same thing to Jack, but Jack seemed unbothered. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn’t pulling that off near as well. He hadn’t been stared at like that--like he was a piece of dirt that stubbornly remained as you scrubbed at a window--since he’d been . . . there. The Refuge.

Crutchie turned his gaze to the window. Buttons was out of sight, the fire escape likely blazing hot in the sun. There weren’t very many people visible whatsoever--it was stifling out, which was probably why Brooklyn was already here. Selling would have to be done in a very particular fashion today--morning, at the coolest, when everyone was headed for work, then around the lunch hours, then the last few in the evening. Crutchie felt bad for the likely sunburned newsies, frantically trying to sell all their papes in those short windows of time, clothes sticking to them with sweat and the hot air weighing them down.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie looked back to the conversation. Jack was watching him expectantly, as was Spot. Crutchie tried to not look clueless--he had really been zoning out, hadn’t he? How much time had passed? Why was everyone looking at him?

“D’you mind answerin’ any questions Spot has? I’m gettin’ us all some water.”

Crutchie nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had totally lost track of the conversation, but he knew a fair bit about what had happened and what was going to happen with the union, mostly from Jack rambling in the afternoons when the silence became too much for one of them.

“So,” Spot said brusquely as soon as the door closed behind Jack. “All that from the strike?”

Crutchie blinked. All what? He needed a bit more context. He should’ve been listening. He opened his mouth to ask, then saw Spot vaguely waving at his body. Oh.

“Nah,” Crutchie mumbled, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Some of it, yeah. Mostly the Refuge, though.”

Spot sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Hotshot turned away. “Looks like you was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crutchie said bitterly. He almost laughed. “By the end there I was ’lucinatin’ so bad I thought I’d been buried already. Probably I was hours from bein’ gone forever.”

Silence. He’d made it awkward, hadn’t he? Crutchie tried to come up with some useful purpose for Spot Conlon to know this, like maybe he’d get pity or sympathy or something and the Brooklyn newsies would leave him alone, but it honestly sounded worse than Conlon straight up hating him. Crutchie was tired of being pitied. He was tired of being a charity case.

“How long?” That was Sharpshooter, his voice pitched a lot higher than Crutchie expected. It didn’t quite match his height and dark eyes.“Was you there, I means.”

“A week, I think. It’s sorta blurry.”

Spot whistled. “Snyder musta had it out for ya. All that in just a week? I’s had boys in there for months come out lookin’ better.”

Again, Crutchie almost laughed. “Everybody has it out for the crip,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his hands as he twisted the blanket between his fingers. “Throw in my personal connection ta Jack Kelly union leader, and a week is a long time ta be lastin’.”

Crutchie looked up. Spot was giving him a strange look--it wasn't pity, like Crutchie expected. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even shock that he was still alive. It was--he didn’t know. And then it was gone.

“Crutchie, right?” Spot asked, glancing out a window aloofly. Crutchie nodded. “You’s a good kid. If you ever finds you in some sorta trouble . . . you’s welcome in Brooklyn.”

What?

He understood that they were allies, but allies did not mean that anyone from either turf was allowed to just go wandering over. The only person who had ever been allowed to was Race, who sold in Brooklyn--why, Crutchie didn’t know. Crutchie didn’t think anyone knew. There were plenty of good spots in Manhattan--why did Race trek all the way to a hostile turf just to sell papes? The point was, this wasn’t something that just happened. Ever. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been on bad terms for as long as Crutchie had been a newsie, and before that as far as anyone could remember.

Crutchie didn’t have much more time to think about it, though, as Jack reentered the room, balancing three glasses of water carelessly enough that it made Crutchie tense up, as if ready to catch one when it dropped. One he handed to Spot, one to Crutchie, and the last to Hotshot. Sharpshooter rolled his eyes and swiped it, half-draining the glass before handing it back.

“Crutchie clear anything up?” Jack asked. Spot continued to stare at Crutchie, a slight crease between his brows.

“Yeah, a few things,” Spot answered absently. “A few.”

The discussions continued for another ten minutes or so, Jack eventually convincing Spot that they were not currently trying to lower the price even further (“I’ve already got Bill down ta fifty-two per hundred, why should I stop?”), and got him to agree to work closely with Davey when Jack wasn’t available. That seemed to be all they could resolve for the time being without attacking each other, which was probably the most that had ever been done by a Manhattan newsie and a Brooklyn newsie working together. When Spot went to leave, though, he turned to Crutchie.

“Ol’ Jack ever oversteps, ya know where ta find us,” he said with a firm nod. “Any guy from Brooklyn will bring ya to me, jus’ say the word.” With that, he was gone, Sharpshooter and Hotshot marching after him.

Jack froze, halfway to gathering the two glasses from where they’d been set on the floor, his mouth agape. “Wh--” he tried. Crutchie could have laughed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. “Did Spot Conlon jus’--” he whipped around to stare at Crutchie. “What’d you talk about?” he demanded. “How’d ya get Spot Conlon ta make you an honorary Brooklyn boy?”

Crutchie shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what had passed between them himself, and he also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he’d done anything. Spot barely knew who he was. The first time they met had been today.

“W-well, if you isn’t gonna eat that, hand it to me.”

The change in subject took Crutchie by surprise, but he passed the partly-eaten bowl of porridge to Jack, who gave him one last suspicious glance before leaving the room.

Crutchie hated being alone these days--the only things worth doing were sleeping and practicing walking. The second one was off the table after yesterday, and he was sick of sleeping, but when there was nobody around there was nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but fall deeper and deeper into a dark chasm that yawned open in his mind. Nothing to do but slowly become more and more paranoid. . . .

He wished he had asked Jack for some more water before he left. Not that Jack wasn’t coming back or anything, it just would’ve been nice to not force him to make another trip.

When Jack returned some ten minutes later, though, he was not alone. Holding his hand was Katherine, laughing at something Jack had said before they entered the room. Crutchie shrunk away. He didn’t want to see Katherine--she would try to pay for a doctor to come see him or insist on checking each of his wounds or something equally mortifying.

“Look who turned up!” Jack said brightly, and Crutchie tried not to frown too obviously.

“Hi, Katherine,” he said politely. “How’re you?”

“Oh, Crutchie, you look so much better!” Katherine exclaimed. Crutchie examined her face carefully. Mostly the truth, but something in her eyes told him that she was still worried about him. “Look at you, sitting up and everything!” a pause. “Have you, um, been eating well?”

There it was. Crutchie hadn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while--every time someone carried him to the washroom, he’d resolutely avoided it. He knew that his face was still multicolored from the various stages of healing his bruises were in, but he hadn’t even thought that he might look malnourished. Elmer’s bracelet was pretty loose on his wrist, now that he was thinking about it. His unwrapped elbow practically jutted out of his skin.

Great. He’d spent a week in the Refuge and had come out looking like the most pitiful creature ever. He was so weak--it had been such a short amount of time! And now he’d been in bed for just as long, when he should’ve been recovered by now!

“Been workin’ on it,” Crutchie managed, trying not to let his thoughts show too obviously. “Hard ta get back up ta where it’s s’posed ta be, y’know?”

“Yeah, he’s been eating less,” Jack added. “It happens, but he’s been tryin’ ta eat most everything I bring him.”

Crutchie resolutely did not blush or look away. There was no reason for Katherine to believe anything to the contrary. Still, she and Jack watched him carefully for a few moments, then exchanged a look. Was he supposed to say something?

“Jack said there was quite the scare last night,” continued Katherine. “Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

Crutchie nodded. He wasn’t lying, actually. He did feel better than he had all week, even if all of his injuries felt raw from falling. Nothing was hazy anymore, nor particularly sharp. It felt almost normal, if the pain could be ignored. He was getting better.

“Why’re you here, Kath?”

Katherine’s smile strained. “Can’t a girl check up on her best friend?”

Crutchie leveled a stare of his own at her. This was the first he’d heard of being best friends. She had to have some sort of ulterior motive--a doctor or a medicine or something stupid like that. He hated to think it, but couldn’t she just leave him alone?

“Okay, I came--of my own volition, by the way--to ask you if you’d be willing to be seen by my family doctor--”

“Nope, thanks,” Crutchie said loudly, glaring hard enough to bore a hole in Katherine’s head. “As you can see, I’s healin’ up just fine.”

“It wouldn’t cost anything, my father--”

“I won’t be botherin’ your father, if it’s all the same ta you,” Crutchie retorted. “Nor no one. I’m gonna be out there sellin’ again soon, an’ if I decides I need a doctor, I’ll save up the cost myself and see ‘im when I feel like it.”

Katherine and Jack exchanged another look, one that told Crutchie they thought he was being stubborn. And so what if he was? Stubbornness had kept him alive countless times. His particular brand of stubborn had been considered both adorable and inspiring in the past. Maybe he was being annoying, but so what? Was it why they wouldn’t listen to him? Did acting annoying really mean he was stripped of his worth to them, his autonomy?

After a long staring contest with Jack, Katherine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered, turning away from both of them. Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The lines of Katherine’s shoulders were sharp and tight, radiating tension that was echoed in Jack’s nervous stance.

Crutchie picked at the blanket. Why did every conversation seem to turn into a fight lately? He just wanted people to respect his choices. Heck, maybe he would take Spot up on that offer. It sounded nice to be around people who had no history with him, a fresh slate, a new standard to set. He would get to prove he was strong to them, instead of being cooped up because they were too afraid of how broken he was.

“Well,” Katherine said, straightening her shoulders and facing them again, “take off your shirt, then.”

Crutchie choked. So did Jack. “Uh, what?” Jack sputtered.

“Buy me dinner first,” Crutchie managed.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “You want to be back out there, don’t you?” she asked Crutchie. He nodded, a little scared of where this was going. “I need to make sure you’re healing well enough, if you won’t see a doctor. Then I’ll tell you when you can continue to sell newspapers. And Jack? Get us something to drink.”

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go... 

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

         “Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

        “Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

        “So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

         “Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

         “And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

         “Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

        “I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

        “Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

        Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

        She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

        “Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

         Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

        Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

        Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

        She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

        Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

        Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

        “Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

        “Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

        Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

        “If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

        “But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

        “You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

        Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

        Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

        For better or worse, they were sisters.

        Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

        “Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

         “Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

        “John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

        She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

        This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

        Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

        “Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

        “Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

        “Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

        Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

        Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

        Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

        Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

        “Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

        “So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

        “Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

        Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

        “Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

        “How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

        “Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

        “Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn​

[jalapeno-princess]

More Than Friends

(I was gonna say he looks so good in here but who am I kidding, he always looks so fucking good)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (but mainly fluff I can’t write angst to save my life)

Word Count: 5K

Summary: You and Mark have a very interesting relationship. The two of you are not exactly dating, but you’re not just friends either. Because of who he is, he isn’t able to take things further in your relationship no matter how badly he wants to. However, something causes him to feel the need to put a label on what exactly is going on between you both.

A/N: (It’s kind of repetitive lol idk how I feel about this story) This was requested by another one of my favorite followers on here @safetypineapples Thank you for all your love and support with my stories and I love reading all of yours! I hope you enjoy this one! Based on the song “At my weakest” by James Arthur.

It's a long night and a big crowd Under these lights looking 'round for you Yeah, I'm steppin' outside under moonlight To get my head right, lookin' out for you, yeah

Could it be your eyes Didn't know that I've been Waitin', waitin' for you When your by my side, everything's alright Crazy, I'm crazy for youOh, here I go, down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same? 'Cause And I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest And I fall for you

“Pick up—fuck—please pick up.” 

Mark was pacing back and forth in the hallway; he must’ve looked like a crazy person to all the staff and security guards at the event, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t too sure why it was happening, especially because he was right about to go on stage, but he was currently going through a panic attack. Just a couple of minutes ago, he was sitting in the dressing room with Yugyeom and Jinyoung, waiting for the rest of the guys to finish getting their makeup and hair done. He was playing a couple of games on his phone when he decided to scroll on Instagram and Twitter for a little while when he stumbled across of a few negative posts that crawled under his skin. 

Being a KPOP idol had its perks; he got to do what he loved, making music, writing songs, touring and traveling around the world, meeting new people and learning of their cultures and getting to perform on stage in front of thousands of their fans alongside his six best friends. Unfortunately, pros also came with cons. With the large amount of love he received all around the world, he also got a lot of unnecessary hate. He never understood what he did to be hated so much. 

Mark was a very kind-hearted, soft-spoken, generous, humble and hardworking person. Sure, he might not have been the best rapper in KPOP, but he gave his all in each and every one of his performances, practices, recording sessions and even when it didn’t have to do with the music; whether it was modeling or being on a reality tv show, he made sure to try his best in order to please everyone he was around. That’s all Mark really wanted to do, but it just wasn’t enough for some people. To the people who weren’t fans of him, if he was too generous, they would consider it as him showing off his wealth and social status. 

There were so many different organizations Mark would donate to and speak up for to show his support but so many antis would claim he was doing it just to look good to the public. However, once he went silent to stop all the loathing and hatred, people called him stingy and claimed he didn’t care about others. These days, it seemed as if Mark was the main target for hate within their group and that says a lot seeing as how Got7 were constantly hated on and ridiculed on a daily basis for no reason at all. Whenever something like this happened, his members would constantly tell him to stay away from social media and told him that all the negative people were just jealous of what an amazing person he was. 

Normally he would do quite the good job with ignoring the hate, and the rumors that were made up about him that made no actual sense at all; but for some reason there was one comment about how Got7 would be much better off without Mark in the group because apparently “Mark doesn’t do anything to really help the groups success in any way.” Or so the comment read. He tried his best to ignore it and he wanted to find something to take his mind off of the comment, but he couldn’t. 

Not even the funny video Yugyeom showed him could prevent him from overthinking and he really didn’t want to show that he was bothered to the other members. As much as he loved them like family, the last thing he wanted to hear was to ignore the hate which is what they always told him. One can only ignore something so much until it actually eats away at them to the point where they feel like screaming and since Mark wasn’t in a place where he could verbally or physically let out his frustrations, he excused himself from the room and walked throughout the arena looking for a quiet and empty place to call the only person he knew that could calm him down. 

The only person whose been on his mind and clouding up his thoughts for the last two months since the tour started. Mark considered every single member of Got7 to be his best friend; from day one the seven of them have been through so much together. So many ups and downs, so many trials and tribulations that only made them stronger as individuals and a whole group. Each member had their own way of cheering Mark up; whether it was Jackson making silly jokes, Jinyoung reciting lines from a show he was acting in, Youngjae bringing coco over for Mark to play with her or BamBam buying him a bunch of luxurious items because in his words “a little Gucci never hurt nobody.” 

However, the only person who could really get Mark out of the deepest funk was you. You, in more or less words were the only other best friend Mark had apart from his members. He told you every single secret, worry, doubt and insecurity he had because he trusted you with his entire being. On the fateful day the two of you met over a year and a half ago, Mark knew you were going to be someone special in his life and that was an understatement. If he was being honest, you were his entire life; Mark never believed in soulmates before meeting you. 

The idea of two people out of the billions of people in the world being destined together was so cliche and he didn’t understand why so many people would claim they met their soulmate. As the days went by and he spent more and more time with you, Mark realized that he got more than he bargained for when he became friends with you and that’s when he knew he was in trouble. Your relationship with Mark was hard to explain; for the first few months, you found confidants in one another. He was your escape from reality just as much as you were his. When your education and work got too much for you to handle, Mark would do whatever he could in his power to get you to focus on better things. Further down the line of being friends, it then blossomed in to something more. Even when Mark was still getting to know you, he found himself developing a little crush on you, but it was inevitable. 

You had a beauty that Mark couldn’t even put in to words to describe. He may have been surrounded with so many beautiful idols, actresses and models on a weekly basis, but there was just something; actually many things about you that stood out from everyone else. Mark was sure he’d be able to spot you in a crowded room because his eyes were always looking for you and because you just radiated such a positive and spirit lifting energy that was so contagious. He always wanted to be around you. Around four months in to your friendship, Mark confesses his feelings for you, but he knew he couldn’t act on them. Dating was taboo in the KPOP industry and most idols who were in relationships did their best in hiding it. 

There was nothing Mark wanted more than to be the lucky guy you called yours, but it was selfish of him to want to take things further with you knowing that he’d be holding you back from so many things. And it wasn’t like the two of you could have a normal relationship. He wouldn’t get to take you on all these cute dates he was sure you wanted to go on, he wouldn’t get to post about you nor would you be allowed to post anything about him, he couldn’t hold hands, hug you, hold you and kiss you unless it was behind closed doors. 

He wouldn’t be able to give you the love and attention you deserved and never failed to show him every single day and that’s what bothered him the most. You were so close, yet so far away and Mark was afraid that you’d get tired of being just friends with him and decide that you didn’t want to wait around for him. Especially since you requited his same feelings and made it aware that you were willing to do whatever it was that he asked of you. You were aware of how hectic his life was and you had a feeling a relationship would be something he wouldn’t be able to give you and you respected it completely. 

As long as you had Mark in your life, it didn’t matter what he was to you. But you were only human. You were still so young and had a great head on your shoulders. You had so much going for you yet you were always at his beck and call whenever he needed you. To both his delight yet dismay, you were willing to drop anything and everything for him. While he was away, you’d wake up in the middle of the night to talk to him and stay up till the wee hours of the morning to listen to him talk about his day even if you had an early morning shift or class. 

When he got sick, you’d pick up some medication and make some soup to help him feel better. If you were out with friends or colleagues and he asked to hang out, you’d give them some lame excuse and made your way over to him. Mark could never come up with the right words to say to show you and tell you just how much you meant to him and how afraid he was to lose you. All he could do, was show you through his actions; his gentle kisses on your cheeks, your forehead and your lips, how he would always need to be touching you whenever the two of you would spend time together, the way he would always check up on you to make sure you’ve eaten all your meals and that you were taking good care of yourself and doing all these little things for you like blowdrying your hair for you when you were too tired or helping you study for an exam even if he had no clue what he was reading. 

He could only hope you understood his nonverbal signals of love. Being on tour was always so fun; it seemed as if more fans came out with every new tour and tonight in London, there were at least 40,000 people at the Wembley stadium waiting for Got7 to perform. Over the years, his nerves slowly calmed down and performing on stage was such an indescribable feeling that he was so grateful for being able to do. The only thing he hated about touring, was being away from you. 

Mark made sure to FaceTime you whenever he got the chance, but it wasn’t the same as seeing your breathtaking smile and contagious laughter that he loved so much in person. He’s asked you to go along with them many times, but because you were a full time student with a full time job, and Mark’s company didn’t think it would look good for some random girl to join them on tour and follow them around the world, you stayed back in Korea. As the phone line kept ringing, anxiety built up in his chest the longer he waited. He checked his phone to see what time it was in Korea and he let out an exasperated sigh. 

It was currently six in the morning and since Mark knew your schedule like the back of his hand, there was a chance you were either getting ready for school or for work and he tried his best not to be upset. Just like how his work was his main priority, you had every right to make your studies and your work ethic your main concern. However, you had a tendency to put Mark at the top of your priorities and sometimes he wished you didn’t think so highly of him. He wanted to give you the same amount of attention and praise you’ve shown him over the years and you were his second main focus right after his job. 

He hated putting you second, he was sure you must’ve loathed having to be his second priority but you never complained nor would you make it known that it bothered you and Mark didn’t know what higher power it was that brought you two together nor did he know what he did to deserve someone so patient and understanding, but he would do it time and time again if it meant having you in his life for as long as he possibly could. With one more sigh, he began walking back towards the corridors where their waiting room was located when he felt his phone vibrate. He didn’t even miss a beat, once he saw your name on the screen he answered and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He was sure he didn’t have much time to talk to you, but it didn’t matter. All Mark needed was to hear your voice and he knew he’d feel so much better. 

“Hey baby, I’m sorry I missed your call. I was washing my face and brushing my teeth. Aren’t you going on stage here soon? Is everything okay?” 

Just hearing your soft little giggle through the speaker was enough to get him to forget of his problems and all he focus on was the sound of your gentle and extremely soothing voice. The term of endearment made him feel even more giddy and he was sure if the guys were to see the effect that you had on him, they wouldn’t let him live it down. 

“Yeah I just—I just wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, I just really miss you. That’s all.” 

By the hesitant tone of his voice, you could tell there was something more that he wasn’t telling you, but you weren’t going to pry at him. You never forced mark to go in to detail about what was worrying him and wanted him to confide in you at his pace. But you hated knowing that something was currently on his mind not knowing exactly what it was. Even if Mark was a couple of years older than you, you always felt the need to protect him from any evil. His happiness and well being was all you ever cared about and sometimes you’d put it before your own. 

“I miss you too Mark and you’re never a bother, you know that. You know if something is wrong, you can tell me right?” 

Although you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was nodding in agreement. The two of you had a mutual understanding; you’d wait for each other to find solace in one another but when you did, you’d let it all out. “I know, thanks y/n. I read something so shitty earlier, but hearing your voice makes it all the more better. Don’t worry about me babe, I’m okay. I’m sure the guys are probably looking for me. I’ll call you after the show, have a nice morning and don’t forget to eat a hearty breakfast. I’ll talk to you soon love.” 

Once you both said your goodbyes, Mark felt energized and ready to go on stage. He didn’t think it was possible for someone to change him for the better but here you were, making his heart feel as if it was about to bust out of his chest and he never wanted that feeling to go away. As soon as he made his way back to the dressing room where all the guys were dressed up and waiting for him, they were all confused seeing the huge grin on his face after he left so abruptly as if something was wrong; but none of them were going to question it. They were all aware of who you were to Mark and all six of them approved of you. 

They loved the effect you had on the eldest boy; they loved the way you made him laugh and smile on his darkest days. You were the light Mark needed and they knew you were put in his life to save him from himself. Once they all walked out onstage and heard the thousands of screams and chants echoing throughout the arena, anything that was bothering Mark no longer mattered to him. All he could think about was making the fans happy, putting all his energy in to each and every song they performed and getting to call you again later. The concert went off without a hitch and honestly it had to be one of the best concerts they’ve done since they started touring. 

For the rest of the week, Got7 finished the Europe leg of the tour and as much as Mark loved exploring the many different cities, trying the different foods they had to offer and taking a well deserved rest from all his other work, he couldn’t wait for the two week break the guys were allowed back in Korea. He couldn’t find it in himself to sleep the night before, he was just so excited to have you in his arms again and he came up with the plan to surprise you about coming home earlier than expected. Everyone seemed to know of Mark’s plans because as soon as they landed, they hailed him a taxi and gave the driver your address which he was extremely grateful for. While he was away, he’d find himself overthinking your relationship. 

He wanted—no, Mark needed to set things straight between the two of you. Even if you told him that you were willing to wait for him for as long as he needed you to, humans could only be patient for so long and he was afraid you’d find somebody while he was away. Somebody who could take care of you in ways Mark could only wish he’d be able to. Somebody who would love you freely; out in the open without having to worry about a rumor breaking out. Somebody worthy of all your love and admiration. 

It was late when they arrived back and he could only hope you didn’t log on to social media and saw that Got7 were back in Korea. He quickly stopped by a cute little hole in the wall florist shop and purchased you a dozen of your favorite flowers. No matter how jet lagged he was from the ten hour flight and how much he wanted to go to sleep, the desire and urge to hold you in his arms was stronger than any exhaustion he felt. He knew he should’ve texted you to ask what you were doing in case you were out to dinner with your friends, but he was just too excited to finally see you that it slipped his mind that there was a chance you weren’t home. 

As soon as he buzzed your doorbell, there was an odd feeling that crashed over him and he couldn’t put his finger on it. However, once you opened the door and he saw you dressed so prettily, the numbness he felt in his chest only grew more. 

“Oh my God—Mark! What are you doing back so early?!” 

You didn’t give him any time to answer before you practically jumped on him; wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. You began leaving chaste kisses on the sides of his face and finally left a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth before jumping down. 

“Hello to you too baby. I wanted to surprise you. God y/n, I’ve missed you so much.” 

You looked up at him with an adoring look in your eyes before cupping his cheek. These last three months without him was just as hard and if not more difficult on you than it was for him. Mark had all his members, friends, staff, family and fans by his side but all you really had was him. Although he never failed to lean on you whenever he needed to, you didn’t want to bother him and handled most of your problems by yourself. Even if he told you to tell him when something wasn’t going your way; you just never wanted to burden him. Just getting a text of encouragement was enough to help ease your negative thoughts. 

Seeing him, with his fluffy, brown hair down to his neck, his face more healthier and fuller than the last time you’ve seen each other and his biceps more prominent, it was an overwhelming feeling and you had a hard time believing he was actually back and at your apartment. 

“Mmm, I missed you too handsome. Let’s get you settled in. Did you eat? Are you hungry? You look exhausted Mark.” You reached for his hand as he held the bouquet of flowers under his arm and dragged in his luggage with his free hand. Since you were ahead of him, you didn’t get to see the way his cheeks turned bright pink at your sudden movement. He was so whipped for you. Once you walked in to your living room, he was quick to notice the box of chocolates on your coffee table and the flowers in a vase sitting on your counter. There was that weird feeling again and he was soon growing curious with what exactly it was that seemed to be eating away at him. You had him take a seat on the couch as you hurriedly brought his luggage in to your room and made your way back to him. 

“I uh—these are for you.” You gave him a toothy grin; excited at the idea of him thinking to stop by somewhere and get you flowers. The soft peck on his lips was your token of appreciation and you walked in to your kitchen to find another vase to put his flowers in. Although he felt as if he could practically knock out right there, he got up from the couch and walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his chin on top of your shoulder. You’ve always adored the height difference between you and Mark. You weren’t the shortest person ever, but you weren’t blessed with height. You shivered at the feeling of him pressing a kiss against your neck and leaned back in to his chest to give him more access to your nape. 

“Where’d you buy the flowers from?” When he felt you tense up at his question, he knew something was up and he had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer. 

“I just came back from a double date—but it’s not what you think. One of my coworkers really likes this guy, but she didn’t want to go out with him on her own just yet so she asked me to tag along with her. Honestly she’s been trying to set me up with all these guys but I’ve told her I’m unavailable more times than I can count on my hands. I think she used that as an excuse for me to go out on a date, but I really wasn’t interested. He gave me these flowers and those chocolates, but I didn’t really give him any of my attention and if I’m being honest, the entire thing was so awkward and I gave an excuse to leave early. I’m glad I did though.” 

You were facing him at his point and ran both your hands through his hair. So that’s why you were all dolled up; Mark knew he wasn’t overreacting for no reason. You just came back from a date. It didn’t matter that your friend set you up, for all he knew you could go on multiple dates and he couldn’t do anything about it. The two of you were untitled. He didn’t have the right to stop you from looking for a genuine relationship. All he could do was hope and pray that the feelings you harbored for him were enough to get you to stick around. 

The way his brows furrowed made you nervous and you didn’t think he cared for you in that way to get bothered at the idea of you seeing someone else. You and Mark may have acted like a couple, but because he wasn’t able to be in a relationship nor did he make it verbally known that he wanted to be one with you, you didn’t think it was possible for him to grow jealous at the thought of you dating someone else. 

“I see. Have you been on any other dates? Met anyone worth your while?”

“No. Just the one tonight. Why would I look for anyone else when I have you Mark? Or I mean—actually I don’t know what I mean. I’m not yours and you’re not mine yet I’m holding on to this tiny little thread and the little voice that’s telling me to not give up on us but I don’t know what you see me as; for all I know I could just be a friend you kiss every now and then just because you can’t have anything to serious. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me and that I’m fine with being stuck in this untitled relationship knowing that I want more, but all I care about is you. I know it’s hard for you to live a normal life and I just wanted to give you whatever it is that you need. I’m sorry, I talk too much—“ 

When you felt a teardrop fell on your cheek, you hesitantly looked up at the older boy and felt a pang to your chest at the sight of his lip quivering as tears were building up at his eyelids. Everyone and anyone who knew Mark was well aware of how sensitive he could be and it was a trait of his you genuinely appreciated. It showed that he had such a big heart. There were moments where he would cry watching a sad video or movie and you’d always smile softly to yourself at how adorable he was. But now, seeing him cry and having a feeling that you were the reason made your head spin. He brought his hands down to your waist and lifted you up on to the counter before connecting your lips together in a rough and extremely passionate kiss. 

You and Mark might have shared quite a few kisses in the last year, but this was the first time his lips smashed and melded against yours perfectly. His lips were chapped and tasted salty from his tears, but it didn’t matter. He all but gently forced his tongue in to your mouth and down your throat and although the feeling was foreign, you could find yourself getting used to this. All too soon, he pulled his lips away and placed his forehead against yours, earning himself a soft whimper from the absence of warmth. He began gliding his thumb along your thigh while lifting your chin up so that you were making eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry y/n, I’m so fucking sorry for having to put you through all of that for the last year but I’m so grateful for each and every single sacrifice you’ve made for me. You’re way more than just a friend to me baby, I thought it was obvious with the way I have to constantly be kissing these pretty lips of yours and the way I always need you around. If you were just a friend, I wouldn’t be calling you and checking up on you every day. You wouldn’t be on my mind the first thing when I wake up and right before I go to bed and I know it’s my fault for not telling you how I feel but I’m telling you now, I’m crazy about you. I was always yours y/n, always. You mean everything to me y/n and you know what? I love you. I love you so much y/n and I plan on loving you for a very long time. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, I don’t care about the repercussions or what punishment I get for this, but please be my girlfriend. I’ll do anything to be yours completely.” 

With the way he was looking at you, as if you were the one who set the entire universe in to the sky, you were putty in his hands. You never said it out loud, but this is what you’ve wanted from the time that Mark stumbled in to your life. Because you were afraid to come off too forward and selfish, you didn’t tell him that you’d daydream of the day he could finally be able to date you without having to worry about what people or say or do if and when they were to find out. You pulled him closer to your body and hid your face in the crook of his neck. Feeling his heartbeat against your chest made it harder for you to keep the growing smile on your face at bay. You really did love the beautiful boy in front of you. 

“I love you too Mark. I’ve always had these feelings for you and I know they’re not going anywhere. You really are one of the best things that ever happened to me. I want nothing more than to take things further with you. It’s always been you too baby. I’m always going to be here for you.” 

He stole a couple more kisses from the corner of your mouth before picking you up from off of the counter and throwing you over his shoulder. “Mark, what are you doing?!”

“You can’t look that amazing and not expect me to show you exactly what you do to me. I’m gonna make love to my beautiful baby.”

“Mark! At least take me to dinner first before getting in to my pants you ass.”

He playfully slapped your butt before making his way toward your room. “You know babe, our relationship was never normal to begin with so there’s no point in following the rules. I like living dangerously. Forget dinner y/n, I’m going straight for dessert.”

Oh, here I go down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same? 'Cause And I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest I fall for you

Love you gonna get hold on me Tell me what you gonna do to me Now you've gone and got your hands on me Tell me what you gonna doAnd here I go down that road Again and again the fool rushin' in But I can't help when I feel some kind of way Do you feel the same?'Cause I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest Yeah, I fall, I fall for you You caught me at my weakest And I fall for you

[fortune-maiden]

for fanfic ask- 5,6,7,12,16,17,18,19,20

All those numbers!! Thank you!! :D

5. What’s a crackship you love?

Does Pei Ming/Shi Qingxuan count as a crackship? xD

For something more traditionally cracky, Nie Mingjue/Shi Qingxuan has some interesting potential

6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh?

I was reading this fic this morning: The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty

It's good silly 3zun+NHS bodyswapping shenanigans :D

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

I read Bad Blood by John Carreyrou over the weekend. It made me cry, but not in a good way.

12. Friends with benefits or secret dating?

Secret Dating probably? I'm not big on either of these though tbh ^^"

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

I have old WIPs with more but out of the ones I am actively working on, the WIP with the highest word count at around 5k can be summed up as...

"Political Ramifications of Soup Drama"

(i am very determined to post this one this friday! it’ll be my birthday gift from me to me)

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

I'm not sure I can talk about these since the concrete ones are pretty much all exchange fics right now ^^"

I have one idea but I'm not sure I'll ever really go any further with though:

Shi Qingxuan dies and becomes a ghost. I'm not sure if I want him to be aware of it or not, but I was mainly thinking of SQX having some sort of lingering regret but not quite knowing what it is and Hualian and co. trying to help him figure it out and fulfill it.

(He wants to help He Xuan's (and possibly Shi Wudu's) soul find peace. Not make up with him or rekindle any past friendships, just not leave him stewing in vengeance and regret anymore)

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

I use a writing bot in discord server I'm in to set daily/weekly/monthly goals (although it has been kind of broken this month possibly because of increased load... I hope it'll be fine after NaNo because I don't feel as motivated using Sprinto without the goals, especially since I mostly solo sprint ;_;)

I try to do a little bit of writing every day, but I think I read less fic overall when I'm focusing on writing.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Pei Ming looking out for Shi Qingxuan post-canon. There's not really anything in the text to support this... I just refuse to believe otherwise :)

Another headcanon I love though is the idea of Lan Qiren mentoring Nie Huaisang during Sunshot and thus being very confused and Not Fooled by Headshaker act, but also politely staying out of it.

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

Come From My Inkstone :D

Come for the promise of NHS drawing and selling Yiling Patriarch porn, stay for the political intrigue, worldbuilding, Nie brothers feels, and really good character development! :D

And also NHS drawing and selling Yiling Patriarch porn.

[alolowrites]

Sneezing Through Time

Summary: When you’re sick, you end up sneezing to random points in time.

Author’s Note: This story was written for the @bnhabookclub​‘s weekly prompt posted on their Discord server. The prompt was “I’m fine” and the AU/Scenario was Time Travel. Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this piece; it got my juices flowing. I might participate in more weekly prompt events in the future 😊. 

BTW: if something isn’t historically accurate, I’m sorry 😭😭😭. I was going for humor lmao. Guess that B.A. degree in History I received was for nothing. 

If you’re a writer (or aspiring writer) and a BNHA fan, please consider applying to join this amazing community. Everyone is so kind and welcoming! You will not regret it.

Also, this is not the sequel to The Point of No Return. That story will hopefully be ready next month so stay tune! 

Enjoy!  

Toshinori sips on his freshly brewed coffee.

Harvested from the beautiful lands of Chiapas, Mexico, he relishes the thick, rich, smooth taste of dark chocolate. A faint pinch of chili spice follows afterward and gives him the sort kick he needs to start the day. The morning newspaper rustles in his grasp as he reads about the latest world events. Everything is going as it should except…

You’re not at the table yet.

Toshinori glimpses at his watch and frowns. Something isn’t right; he knows you usually take twenty minutes to get ready before rushing to inhale your coffee. Sadly that cup is getting colder by the second while the empty seat sitting across the table mocks him. He raises the newspaper higher to block out the chair only to peek over it when he loses his concentration.  

The chair screeches on the hardwood floor. Toshinori folds the paper under his arm and goes to your bedroom to investigate. There’s a trail of white, crumpled tissues coming out from the bathroom. Following the knockoff yellow-brick road, he stops at the doorway and hears a loud blow horn by the window.

“Honey?” Toshinori tiptoes over the random piles of Kleenex as if they are grenades. Sunken eyes deeper than the Pacific Ocean catch his gaze. He feels your forehead with a frown. “You look sickly pale.”

You dismiss his concerns. “I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“Toshi, I’m fine!” A slight cough betrays you despite trying to mask it in your fist. Toshinori’s stern face makes you cringe like a small child who got caught stealing candy from the jar. “That cough means nothing.”

“I’m calling you out of work today.” Like a firm parent, he doesn’t give you a chance to disagree. “And I’m staying home to take care of you.”

Before you could argue, a loud sneeze bursts out, and you disappear. Toshinori rubs his eyes as he taps his foot and counts the seconds in his head. You bounce on the bed wearing a loose peplos that flows down to your feet. A wreath of laurel leaves perfectly sits on your head like a tiara. You toss Toshinori a crown of wild olives.

“Brought you a little souvenir from the Olympic Games.”

He catches it with ease, but is too slow to reach you. An explosive sneeze blows into your used tissue, and you pop like a bubble that was pricked by a sharp needle. Toshinori sighs again. He wastes no time making a quick call to your boss who becomes excited to hear All Might’s voice. Unfortunately, Toshinori’s ear gets attacked by the man’s unintelligible banshee screams.

Pushing through the pain, he manages to snag a sick day for you. Toshinori is not one to abuse his hero privileges, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Hanging up the phone, a sharp swoosh of air blows behind him. He turns around to see you swaying like an intoxicated person who had a few too many drinks at the bar. Perhaps the high-end court party was too generous with their delicious wine.

Still, you feel woozy even if you didn’t drink anything. Any other day you would have appreciated how the gorgeous dark blue Victorian Rococo dress flatters your figure. The fine, golden embroidered floral pattern running along the fabric leaves Toshinori in awe. Who needs to visit the Met when you’re a walking Baroque painting?

However, you feel like absolute roadkill. The enormous hair wig weighs you down like a heavy anchor and disturbs your center of gravity. One small misstep and you’ll fall face-first on the floor. You annoyingly puff at the large, blue feather blocking your eyes.

“We are not doing any ballroom dancing dates for a long time.”

“Sure, honey.” Toshinori holds in his laughter. “Your boss gave you the day off. So why don’t I help you get—“ Another sneeze rudely cuts him off. A tiny feather gently falls to the ground as Toshinori’s head hangs low. Finishing his sentence, he mutters “—back to bed.”

Grabbing the dustpan, he cleans up the scattered tissues and waits for your return. It’s the only thing he could do when you’re sick and sneeze to other periods. The closet doors rattle and you stumble out with a painful groan, looking greener than Midoriya’s hair. Luckily the vomit subsides after doing some breathing exercises.

Toshinori comes to your rescue like the true hero he is. Your head bangs against his chest once the room starts spinning. You muffle, “Leonardo Da Vinci says hi.”

An arm cradles you closer into his warm embrace. He admires the cherry red Italian renaissance dress you’re wearing; it fits you like a glove. Your nose scrunches and you go still. A sneeze dangerously grows inside, tickling for an escape. Before you could unleash the chaos, two fingers pinch your nose close. A staggered breath slips through your gaped mouth.

“Blow,” Toshinori orders when a tissue settles on your nose. Gooey snot destroys the pristine Kleenex and joins the massive snow pile overflowing from the trash bin. He guides you to the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea.”

“Thank you, Toshi.”

“Don’t you want to change out of your dress first?”

“No, it’s okay,” you mumble under the covers. The pillows feel nice and soft, like a fluffy cloud or a sheep’s wool. In between yawns, you say, “There’s no…corset under…dress.”

Sleep takes over the moment both eyes close. Toshinori stays behind and sends a quick text message to Principal Nezu about not coming into work today. He brushes the little hair strands sitting along your forehead with a faint smile. You look so peaceful, like a beautiful renaissance angel blessing his soul.

A loud snore disrupts the graceful illusion.

“At least you’re not sneezing,” Toshinori chuckles, fixing the pillows so you’re more comfortable. He shuts the blinds and gently closes the door on his way out. The hot tea, along with a nice, hearty bowl of soup for lunch, will help fight the cold.

Besides, he’s been itching to use the old teacup you “accidentally” brought back from your trip to the Ming-dynasty era.

Thank you for reading!

[jihyuncompass]

730 Days

This is my first real fanfiction that I’ve posted here. It’s been a long time since I’ve posted any kind of fanfiction but I hope you enjoy! 

Mysme Week 2020 Day One ( @mysmeweek2020 )

Anniversary 

V/Jihyun Kim x MC 

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: It’s been exactly 730 days of yearning for the man named Kim Jihyun

It’s been 730 days since you last saw Kim Jihyun. Two years to the date. It’s been 730 sunrises and sunsets,  and 730 days of desperately missing him. 

It was surprising at first, you had only known V for eleven days before he left. In less than two weeks you met and fell in love with him. And just as quickly as he appeared in your life he disappeared from it. For a good reason of course, but that didn’t ease the ache in your chest his absence caused. Soon after he left your life returned to some semblance of normal, and the events of the nearly two weeks you spent with V settled in your mind, though never too far away.

In the months following his departure there were nights where you wondered if V had been a figment of your imagination. V sometimes felt like a dream to you. The kind and gentle mint-haired man who promised to protect you. Who you helped nurse back to health after he’d been poisoned. Something about him felt so ethereal, almost otherworldly, it was hard not to think of him like an angel who appeared in your greatest time of need. 

The RFA was your biggest reminder that not only was he real, but your feelings for him were also just as real, and just as powerful as the day he left. 

730 days, two years since the first party you organized was cancelled, you got into a car on the way to the party that you organized. 

Sitting in the backseat of the car Jumin had sent, you ran through your to-do list in your head. There felt like thousands of little details to remember, from the guest list, to the refreshments, to the auction later in the afternoon. These thoughts swirled in your head like alphabet soup jumbled and somewhat meaningless. 

Clutching your hands together you saw the party venue come into sight. You had arrived early but already there was a significant amount of press that had gathered at the entrance. Walking up to the front doors you made sure your RFA badge was visible and waved to Jaehee. Two years had let you grow close with every member of the RFA, but this was the first time that everyone would be gathered up in the same room. The thought brought a smile to your face, you were almost looking forward to a possible fight between Zen and Jumin. Which was saying something. 

The main hall was gorgeous. Perfectly decorated to match the elegant theme of the afternoon’s event. Each table carefully prepared with champagne flutes being filled for the guests to drink. Finally getting to see it all in person took your breath away, suddenly all of the work, the planning, the emails, the late nights spent preparing felt worth it.  

The party started without a single mishap, guests filed into the ballroom as music danced through the air. While there was still many things to attend to, you took a few moments every once in a while to take in the moment and truly savor it. Taking one of these short moments and a soft smile on your face, you were already drafting a letter to V in your head. You couldn’t wait to tell him about all of this, your heart ached from his absence but the small points of correspondence you had with him made it all bearable. Your fingers itched as you thought about the future contents of the letter.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Jumin asked, appearing beside you, two flutes of champagne in his hand, one of which he offered you. You took the glass into your hand and shared a brief toast between the two of you, taking a sip you smiled at the crowd. 

“I still can’t really believe it’s actually happening.” You admitted. 

“It’s all due to your hard work.” Jumin stated in his standard tone. Very matter of fact, without any doubt into the truth of his statement. You watched him glance into the crowd, his eyes purposely trying to avoid the reporters lingering at the edges of the ballroom.

You and Jumin had become particularly close during the past two years. During the original two weeks when you met the two of you had both taken on the job of holding everyone together. Keeping the RFA whole while V recovered, and while the rest of the members grappled with what Rika had become was a struggle for the both of you individually. However, within the chaos you both held the group together, all while you both could feel yourselves falling apart at the seams. 

It took two months before you finally started to crack, and three for Jumin to start drinking more often. During this time you both found comfort in each other’s company. You enjoyed weekly dinners together where you drank wine and vented about everything that was worrying you that week. Work stress, RFA drama, the one time Elizabeth started shedding more than usual and Jumin worried she was sick, and of course your favorite topic, your mutual longing for one Kim Jihyun. 

“I wish he was here.” You blurted out. Looking back to Jumin you could see that look of nostalgia in his eyes he got when either of you spoke about your mutual friend. 

“As do I.” He muttered. You held onto your glass tighter. 

“There are going to be more parties, maybe he’ll be there for the next one.” Jumin’s eyes looked over at you, you still weren’t very good at reading his facial expressions but it almost looked like he knew something you didn’t. Opening your mouth to say something you couldn’t get it out before you saw the other RFA members coming towards the two of you. 

After the other members excused themselves to go about the rest of the party you found yourself alone again. After a long content sigh you gently set the champagne flute down on the table next to you. Wrapping your arms around yourself it was hard to fight the smile on your face. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.” You closed your eyes for just a second, the smile on your face growing wider. You didn’t look, almost afraid his voice was only in your head. 

“Me too.” You said. Opening your eyes you slowly looked to the source of the voice. Your breath caught in your throat. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination, he wasn’t a dream, Kim Jihyun was standing right in front of you. Tears welled in your eyes, because not only was he right in front of you. But he looked so happy.  

“Congratulations.” He said, his voice light and full of emotion. 

“V?” 

“It’s Jihyun Kim now.” He smiled bright, “Long time no see.” 

He spoke about his time away, the things he learned, the future he wanted to make for himself. A future that he wanted you to be a part of and help him create. He spoke from the heart, no longer weighed down by doubt and fear like he had in the past. Each word felt purposeful, confident. As you listened to him the realization of his return finally overwhelmed you. Tears now streamed down your cheeks as you made no attempt to hide them or wipe them away. You wanted to hold onto his moment, and not let anything detract from it. 

“I want to love you. I will love you. I love you. Just as I love myself.” V- no Jihyun finished. His smile remained while he waited for you to speak. Racking your brain you tried to think of what to say, you thought of every dream you had, every imaginary reunion you created in your head. None of them however, could compare to this. 

Unable to find words you pulled him into an embrace. Your face pressing into his shoulder. He stood shocked for only a second before his arms wrapped around you tight. Trying to keep yourself from crying you mumbled into his shoulder. 

“Jihyun, oh Jihyun.” His name sounded the sweetest song when you said it. “I love you. I love you so much.” You held each other as tight as you could, as if this moment would disappear once you let go.

Pulling away just enough to see his face, your eyes met his. Jihyun’s hands moved up to cradle your face. He heard him take a shaky breath while he stared straight into your eyes. 

“I-” He stopped to take another breath. “I’ve never seen you this clearly before.” He smiled, that sweet gentle smile full of warmth that you missed so dearly. Staring into his eyes it’s impossible to not see just how vibrant they are. Even more so than when he was half blind when you first met. 

“Is that good?” You whispered. 

“Yes. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.” A soft relieved sigh slipped past your lips. Your hands moved up to rest on his chest, just below his neck and shoulders. Staring for just a moment longer Jihyun leaned forward, capturing your lips in his. Time froze while one of your arms slipped around his neck to pull him closer. 

When his lips finally broke away to catch his breath, his eyes fluttered open to look at you. 

“I hope that was alright.” A brief look of concern flashed across his perfect face. With a gentle smile fixed to your lips you answered his question by pulling him close so you could kiss him again. 

It’s been 730 days since you last saw Kim Jihyun, and seeing him now, feeling his lips against yours, you knew it was worth the wait.