#hes singing to attract customers to Spirits and Such

[bleepzip]

men without ESP activities

#hes singing to attract customers to Spirits and Such #its not working #dimple #reigen arataka #reigen fanart #mp100 #mp100 fanart #my art #mob psycho 100 #internet sex symbol #mp100 memes #reigen memes #reigen my beloved #these suck lol

[babywonderlandwerewolf]

Good Vibes (DuckTales style)

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSTpiRYiHok&ab_channel=ApplejackLyrics

(Taking place between seasons 2 and 3)

(Singing in bold and italic)

We open to Donald who is staring wistfully at a wishing well in the center of Duckburg downtown, still thinking about the events of the Moonvasion and getting his sister back. He proceeds to throw a coin in the wishing well.

He then sees Penumbra struggling to carry boxes of the supplies she bought for rebuilding her ship. She accidentally drops a picture frame containing a picture of her and Della.

Huey: The truth that we have come to know. Starts out small, but watch it grow.

Donald proceeds to pick up Penumbra’s picture before it drops and breaks. Penumbra proceeds to smile gratefully for this kind act.

Dewey:  Taking time to help each other. Brings us close to one another

As she is walking in town, she finds Lena trying to give missing posters to find her missing amulet.

Louie and Scrooge: Beginning now starts something new. Good deeds done out of the blue.

Penumbra shows up near Lena and takes her missing amulet out of one of her boxes which had fallen in their at some point.

Donald and Della: Put your kindness to the test. You'll be amazed what happens next.

Lena holds her magic amulet near her just as Gizmoduck walks by while on his way back from stopping a crime and accidentally trips causing one of his laser arms to accidentally blast and ruin a nearby Launchpad’s Darkwing Duck poster.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della:  One small word can brighten the world around you. 

Launchpad proceeds to cry over his ruined Darkwing Duck poster. Noticing his sadness, Lena uses her magic to fix his poster and make it even cooler looking with Darkwing Duck now carrying an grappling hook with his crashed car in the background.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: One big smile can change someone's day.

Launchpad proceeds to admire his new and improved Darkwing Duck poster just as he sees Gyro walking by with a cart full of new electronics he purchased. Suddenly, the cart’s wheel pops off which upsets Gyro.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: A helping hand goes farther than you can dream. Good vibes, so many different ways.

Noticing his struggle, Launchpad proceeds to walk up to Gyro and carry his boxes of electronics for him much to his happiness.

Scrooge:  Moments that you don't expect. Spirits down, you're in the depths. The world feels like it's lost the light. But little things can make it right

As Gyro closes the trunk of his car with the electronics Launchpad carried, Dewey walks up to him distressed with a broken DJ machine. Remembering Launchpad’s kindness, Gyro smiles and decides to fix Dewey’s machine much to his happiness.

Huey and Webby:  Think of all the lives you've touched. They come 'round and twice as much.

Louie is currently trying and failing to sell action figures made of the gold from the previous Spear of Selene rockets with Manny also being there as his assistant to help him. 

Dewey and Louie:  Friendship makes the world get lighter. Blur the lines and make it brighter.

Noticing his brother’s struggle, Dewey decides to set up his DJ music near Louie’s action figures stand and turns the music on. This attracts customers, much to Louie’s happiness.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: One small word can brighten the world around you.

Later, Louie is walking drinking a Pep can he bought with the money he gained from the golden action figures stand with Manny carrying him on his shoulders when he sees Huey on a ladder trying to build a tree display made of wooden branches for another Junior Woodchucks badge. 

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: One big smile can change someone's day.

As Huey finishes up his tree display, the Beagle Boys run by with Officer Cabrera chasing them. This causes the tree display to begin faltering and nearly fall.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: A helping hand goes farther than you can dream. Good vibes, so many different ways.

Noticing his oldest brother’s display about to fall, Louie immediately signals Manny to run and he uses his large stature for the display to lean on and stop it from falling. Huey opens his eyes and flashes a relieved smile at Louie.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: It only takes a moment to make someone's day. Good vibes, good vibes.

Della walks out of a burger restaurant with some food she ordered to go. Just then, she accidentally gets her scarf snagged on a branch and trips, causing the scarf to rip.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della:  It keeps us growing stronger, so let's hear you say.

Noticing his mother looking at her ripped scarf in sadness, Huey runs up to her and shows off his emergency stitch kit. Realizing he intends to mend her scarf, Della smiles and gives her scarf to Huey to stitch.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: Good vibes, good vibes.

Huey then shows off Della’s mended scarf to her which she smiles at.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della: One small word can brighten the world around you. One big smile can change someone's day.

Just as Della continues walking, she notices a depressed Donald sitting at the wishing well. Realizing how much has happened the past week with the Moonvasion and their reunion, Della walks up to Donald and affectionately messes with the feathers on his head.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della:  A helping hand goes farther than you can dream.

Donald looks up and sees Della offering some of her burger place food. He smiles in happiness for spending time with his sister and accepts.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Scrooge, Donald, and Della:  Good vibes, so many different ways.

The two then sit down at the bench together, chatting like good times and eating the burgers together. Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, and Scrooge walk up and join them happily, united as a family once more.

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales #my little pony friendship is magic #equestria girls #donald duck #della duck #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquck

[hadeschan]

item # N14E20

RARE Pra Buddha Kwak Um Baat, Nua Pong Namman, Luang Phu Thoop, Wat Khae Nang Loeng. A holy powder blended with tung oil Buddha amulet with figure of Buddha raising his right arm in a beckoning gesture to bring good luck to the amulet owner, and his left hand faces outward or lies palm up in the lap holding an alms bowl. With an imprint of a Yant Baipat in the back. Made by Luang Phu Thoop of Wat Khae Nang Loeng (Wat Sunthon Thammathan), Bangkok in BE 2504 (CE 1961).

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Alms Bowl

An alms bowl symbolizes a wish of having endless food with wealth and prosperity.

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Yant Baipat

Yant Baipat, the turbine-liked yantra in the back of this amulet is believed to have magic power of turning bad luck to the good one!

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BEST FOR: Pra Buddha Kwak attracts wealth, abundance, prosperity, good luck, good fortune, happiness, purity and positive things to come, success in career, in love, and in relationships. Being away from cycle of poverty, and having multiple streams of income while building wealth. Changing your luck from bad to good. It has a tendency to draw positive energy. Metta Maha Niyom (it makes people around you love you, be nice to you, and willing to support you for anything), Kaa Kaai Dee (it helps tempt your customers to buy whatever you are selling, and it helps attract new customers and then keep them coming back, Klawklad Plodpai (it pushes you away from all danger), Maha-ut (it helps stop gun from shooting at you), and warning of danger. Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sa-niat jan-rai Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse, accursedness, black magic, misfortune, doom, and poisonous animals). And this amulet helps protect you from manipulators, backstabbers, and toxic people.

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Luang Phu Thoop, the Abbot of Wat Khae Nang Loeng (Wat Sunthon Thammathan), Bangkok, living between BE 2441 to BE 2533

Luang Phu Thoop was a disciple of Luang Phor Khan of Wat Nok Krajap, Luang Phor Parn of Wat Bang Nom Kho, Luang Phor Jong of Wat Na Tang Nok, Luang Phor Cham of Wat Takong, and an alliance of Luang Phor Ngern of Wat Don Yai Hom.

Bangkok’s mafia in the late 1950s

Dang Bireley's and Young Gangsters. The true story about young Thai gangsters in 1950s Thailand. Luang Phu Thoop was highly respect by Dang Bireley, and Pu Bottle Bomb . They both were Looksit (disciples / followers /adherents/ worshippers / devotees) of Luang Phu Thoop of Wat Khae Nang Loeng (Wat Sunthon Thammathan), Bangkok. Dang Bireley, and Pu Bottle Bomb wore amulets made by Luang Phu Thoop at all time for Klawklad Plodpai (bringing safety, and pushing them away from all danger), Kongkraphan Chatrie (making them invulnerable to all weapon attacks), Maha-ut (stoping gun from shooting at them or guns miss the aiming target).

The movie Song-si-gao-gao Antapan Krong Muang was based on true story, Dang Bireley's and Young Gangsters (Thai: 2499 อันธพาลครองเมือง or 2499 Antapan Krong Muang) is a 1997 crime drama film about young Thai gangsters in 1950s Thailand. Featuring John Woo-style heroic bloodshed, it was the debut film from director Nonzee Nimibutr and was the first screenplay by director and screenwriter Wisit Sasanatieng.

The 2499 in the Thai title refers to the year in the Buddhist calendar when the story starts, corresponding to the Gregorian year 1956.

Plot

Dang, the son of a prostitute, growing up in 1950s Thailand, compensates for his inferiority complex by boosting up his ego. At the age of 13, he killed a man who was beating his mother. By age 16, he had dropped out of school and started his own protection racket. With his right-hand man Lam Sing, Dang is highly protective of Piak, and is also friends with Pu Bottle Bomb and Pu's sidekick Dum.

Dang attracts the attention of a young night club singer named Wallapa, who pressures Dang to stop being a gangster and live a normal life. Dang's mother also wishes that he would stop being gangster and ordain as a Buddhist monk.

Dang carves out more territory by killing the local crime boss Mad Dog. Meanwhile, Piak is caught up in a fight between rival school gangs, instigated by Pu and Dum. The fight leads to a falling out between Dang and Pu the beginning of a feud between the two. Following a military coup all the gangsters must leave Bangkok for the countryside, Dang, Lam Sing and Piak go to work for Sergeant Chien, a former policeman turned gangster, at Chien's bar and gambling den next to an American military base. Chien needs more muscle to go against a rival operator, Headman Tek, and brings in Pu and Dum against Dang's wishes. Pu and Dum stir up trouble in the gambling den and reignite their feud with Dang's gang although Sergeant Chein tries to calm them. However Sergeant Chien is killed by a motorcyclist gunman and Pu and Dum go to work with his rival Headman Tek forcing Dang's gang out of the town.

Dang returns to Bangkok, where he plans on fulfilling his mother's wishes and taking his oath as a monk. However Pu and Dum show up during the ceremony and gun battle ensues. Lam Sing is killed, and Dang and Piak are wounded, but Pu and Dum are killed.

In an epilogue, narrated by an older Piak, it turns out Dang survived his wounds, but continued as a gangster seemingly unable to become a monk, and then died in a car accident at age 24, just like his idol James Dean.

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DIMENSION: 3.80 cm long / 2.60 cm wide / 0.80 cm thick

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item # N14E20

Price: price upon request, pls PM and/or email us [email protected]

100% GENUINE WITH 365 DAYS FULL REFUND WARRANTY

Item location: Hong Kong, SAR

Ships to: Worldwide

Delivery: Estimated 7 days handling time after receipt of cleared payment. Please allow additional time if international delivery is subject to customs processing.

Shipping: FREE Thailandpost International registered mail. International items may be subject to customs processing and additional charges.

Payments: PayPal / Western Union / MoneyGram /maybank2u.com / DBS iBanking / Wechat Pay / Alipay / INSTAREM / PromptPay International

*************************************

[gravessylvest46]

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[xtruss]

It wouldn't be New Year's Eve without "Auld Lang Syne"—and we have legendary Scottish poet Robert Burns to thank for it. He wrote the poem and fine-tuned the melody for the traditional song. His original manuscript is seen here up for auction. Photograph By Jeff J. Mitchell, Getty Images

Why We Sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ on New Year’s Eve

The Iconic Song Became a Staple at the Stroke of Midnight with a Little help from 18th Century Poet Robert Burns and the Scottish Diaspora.

— By Parissa Djang I December 27, 2023

If New Year’s Eve had an official carol, it would easily be “Auld Lang Syne.” Every year, just after the clock strikes midnight, people around the world join hands and sing this beloved song.

Why is “Auld Lang Syne” a New Year’s tradition? From its beginnings as an 18th-Century Scottish Poem to its Iconic Status today, “Auld Lang Syne” captures the spirit of the holiday.

A Scottish Poem

The song is actually a poem penned by Robert Burns in 1788. Traditionally considered Scotland’s National Poet, Burns stirred the Country’s National consciousness by writing in the dying out Scots language. In English, auld lang syne roughly means “times long past.” Fittingly, the song tells of old friends meeting after time apart.

An Oil Painting of Robert Burns in nature. Robert Burns is considered the National Poet of Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 for his work in the 18th century that celebrated Scottish Cultural Heritage. Photograph By Pictures From History, Getty Images

Although Burns’ version is the one that we know today, there were earlier versions of the poem, including Allan Ramsay’s from 1724. Burns explained his version was indeed inspired by another. As he claimed to music publisher George Thomson in September 1793, “I took it down from an old man’s singing.”

Burns was not satisfied with his version of the poem’s original tune, dismissing it as “mediocre.” So between 1799 and 1801, Thomson found and fine-tuned a different melody for the song. It’s the one we still sing today.

A Song For The Year’s End

Burns’ song soon found a home in an annual Scottish tradition: Hogmanay. A blend of Norse and Gaelic customs, the holiday celebrates the last day of the year.

For centuries, Hogmanay, not Christmas, reigned as the biggest winter holiday in Scotland. After all, the Church of Scotland, the country’s official church, had banned the celebration of Christmas in 1640, since it felt the holiday was not Protestant enough.

Unable to make merry at Christmastime, people embraced Hogmanay instead. During Hogmanay, Scottish men, women, and children exchanged gifts and visited friends and neighbors to welcome the new year.

Left: People in Edinburgh watch fireworks during New Year festivities. The New Year festival of Hogmanay became an especially important one in the Scottish calendar after the Church of Scotland banned Christmas in 1640. (The ban was lifted four centuries later.) Photograph By Crofts Simon, Anzenberger/Redux

Right: To welcome the arrival of 2006, the Hogmanay Celebration in Edinburgh attracted more 15,000 people and included a torchlight procession. Photograph By Marco Secchi, Camera Press/Redux

Another Hogmanay tradition? Singing. Some songs—such as “A Guid New Year to ane a’ A’”—were widely recognized. Others were created by families or local communities.

With its emphasis on friendship, reminiscence, and parting, Burns’ “Auld Lang Syne” expressed the essence of Hogmanay: bidding adieu to one year so another could begin.

A New Year’s Tradition

As Scotspeople emigrated in the 19th century, they brought their Hogmanay traditions with them around the world—including “Auld Lang Syne.”

The song soon became a fixture in New Year’s Eve celebrations in the United States. Jazz band Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians played it during a New Year’s Eve radio broadcast in 1929. It was a hit—and “Auld Lang Syne” remained a midnight staple of the band’s annual New Year’s Eve show, which aired on radio and eventually television every year until 1976. The show’s success popularized “Auld Lang Syne” as the quintessential New Year’s song across the country.

Guy Lombardo, center, poses with the Royal Canadians orchestra. The jazz band first popularized "Auld Lang Syne" on New Year's Eve in 1929 during their radio broadcast. Photograph By CBS, Getty Images

As Life reported on December 17, 1965, “Should [Lombardo] and his Royal Canadians fail to play ‘Auld Lang Syne’ at midnight on New Year’s Eve […], a deep uneasiness would run through a large segment of the American populace—a conviction that, despite the evidence on every calendar, the new year had not really arrived.”

However, musicologist M.J. Grant emphasizes in her book Auld Lang Syne: A Song and Its Culture that at the time the song “was already firmly established in many communities, quite possibly beginning in the Scottish diaspora.”

So the tradition of playing “Auld Lang Syne” on New Year’s may have not started with Lombardo, but his band ushered in a new beginning for a song that honors the past while welcoming the dawn of a new day.

#New Year’s Eve #A Scottish Poem #Auld Lang Syne #A New Year’s Tradition #Iconic Song | Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 #18th Century Poet Robert Burns #Scottish Diaspora #Scottish Cultural Heritage #Robert Burns | National Poet of Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

[casadechiles]

10 reasons why Mexico celebrates Death

"Our cult of death is a cult of life," said our renowned Mexican poet and essayist, Octavio Paz. Here are the 10 reasons why Mexico celebrates death.    

Unique celebrations of Mexicans to the world

It has become a classic response from filmmaker Guillermo del Toro when he won two Golden Globes, including the award for best director, for his film "The Shape of Water." During a press conference, a reporter from the Chinese news agency Xinhua asked him, "You have an extraordinary ability to see the dark side of human nature, fantasy, and horror, yet you are a really cheerful and loving person. How do you achieve that balance?" Del Toro immediately responded, "Because I'm Mexican," amid laughter and applause from the audience. On November 2nd, Mexico celebrates the Day of the Dead, a day when we all affirm, like Del Toro, "because we are Mexican." The Day of the Dead celebration is one of the most important in the country and represents the tip of the iceberg of a culture where death is much more familiar, something to joke about, and something to be honored. That's why we present you with 10 reasons why Mexico loves death and has a special relationship with the culture of death that fascinates the rest of the world.  

1. Cult of Death

The cult of death is a pre-Hispanic practice, an ancient tradition. In fact, the Mexica calendar shows that among the 18 months that make up this calendar, there were at least six celebrations dedicated to the deceased. Celebrations of death are documented among the Toltecs, Mexicas, Mayas, Purépechas, and Totonacs. Among pre-Hispanic peoples, it was common to preserve skulls as trophies and display them during rituals symbolizing death.  

  2. Day of the Dead

The Day of the Dead is a national symbol and a part of our culture. We celebrate our deceased by visiting cemeteries, adorning graves with flowers, and setting up altars in our homes to welcome the spirits of our loved ones from beyond. It's a day when the living and the dead share food and drink, and families gather at cemeteries to sing to the graves, creating a festive atmosphere.  

  3. La Catrina

Mexican artist José Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913), known for his engravings, made death one of his recurring themes, depicting it as an elegantly dressed skeleton. This gave birth to La Catrina Garbancera, an iconic figure of the Mexican Day of the Dead.  

  4. All Saints' Day

The celebration of the saints is related to the strong religious beliefs of millions of Mexicans. It represents pride and a sense of belonging to a country with unique rituals distinct from Halloween celebrated in the United States and around the world. While Halloween customs have spread worldwide, our own rituals continue with their unique cultural associations.  

  5. Funeral food

Children are familiar with the theme of death, with drawings that explain the Day of the Dead, and many receive the classic "calaverita," small skull-shaped candies. There are hundreds of sweets with funeral motifs. Pan de Muerto, a traditional bread baked with bone-shaped figures and sugar skulls, is a common treat.  

  6. The display of the dead in a museum

Various terms are used to refer to death, such as La Huesuda, La Calaca, La Catrina, La Parca, La Dama de Negro, La Santa Muerte, La Novia Fiel, and many more. Moreover, there are museums dedicated to death, such as the Guanajuato museum, where the remains of individuals buried there, mummified due to the local soil, are displayed. The exhumed bodies, dated from 1865 to 1989, can be observed at the Mummies Museum in the city, which has become one of its main tourist attractions.  

  7. Calaveritas

In schools, humorous and satirical verses dedicated to death are written. These "calaveritas literarias" are small poems that often target living individuals, including politicians, and humorously address their inevitable encounter with death.  

  8. Rituals of remembrance of the dead

Throughout the country, there are thousands of rituals to remember the deceased. These range from simple acts like setting up an altar with marigolds and photos of the deceased to more unusual rituals, such as the one held at the cemetery of Pomuch in the Mayan region of southern Mexico. There, the bones of the deceased are exhumed and cleaned every November 2nd as a tribute to the dead.  

  9. The cult of the Santa Muerte

The cult of Santa Muerte has become a significant religion in the country, and the Vatican is trying to counter the faith professed by thousands of people, particularly in many tough neighborhoods in Mexico City. It is said that many of its followers do not engage in charity work. Santa Muerte is depicted as a skeleton wearing a robe resembling a virgin, and people pray to her, light candles, sing to her, and offer her various offerings throughout the year, often associated with rituals and various forms of magic.  

  10. Death merchandise

There is a wide range of death-related merchandise, including keychains, earrings, t-shirts, backpacks, and even shoes, where death, not just the figure of Santa Muerte but also that of La Catrina and skulls in various forms, from the cute to the grotesque, can be seen everywhere.  

Read the full article

#DayoftheDead #death

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

An Elfish Christmas part 2 + Epilogue [T.H]

A/n: I finally did it! After a year long wait here is part 2! It wasn't easy but it was fun to write and yes I took a lot of inspiration from Elf. Thank you to @mathletemadison for helping me!

Summary: Tom is an elf from the North Pole who has ventured out to see why his old pen pal Y/n is on the naughty list. During his journey to fix her Christmas cheer, Tom finds out there is more to Y/n than just her name on a list and he realises just how to make her one Christmas wish come true.

Wc: 4.8k + 500 Epilogue

Pairing: Elf!Tom x reader

Warnings: some angst, talk of a past bad relationship, fluffff

PART 1

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

You scoffed at the cheery musical notes that filled the coffee shop as you walked in. A few years ago you would have been singing along to what was one of your favourite holiday songs and letting it fill you with festive cheer but not this year.

How could you agree that it was the most wonderful time of the year when this year had been anything but? One thing after another had just seemed to crash down causing you to carry a ten ton weight on your shoulders. You’d had to take on a second job just to help pay rent, your grades had been going downhill too and on top of that your love life was virtually non-existent with one bad date after the other. There wasn’t even a hint of snow in the air to maybe give you some hope, just torrential rain soaking you to your bones on the way to work.

It didn’t help that the most painful breakup you had experienced was this time last year just as you were about to exchange presents. The news that your fiancé had cheated on you ruined all your memories of Christmas trees, gifts and everything that went along with the holiday season. You used to do it all together and not a moment was wasted after the 1st of November to prepare for Christmas and then he broke your heart as easily as he had taken it.

“Merry Christmas!” Your co-worker greeted you, wearing a bright Reindeer jumper and a large smile. She was the polar opposite of your mood today.

“Ba Humbug.” You replied back with a sigh as you tied up your apron and prepared for your shift. Your co-worker merely laughed and told you about her Christmas plans with her boyfriend, making you feel more alone and single than before.

Your attention shifted to the decorations that surrounded you in the shop, tinsel strung from every corner as a waving Santa Claus decoration greeted everyone who walked past. A little girl stood outside the shop with her nose pressed against the glass as she watched him wave, a childlike wonder adorning her face. It almost made your heart hurt to think that you had been the exact same when you were her age and now life had drained you of your Christmas spirit.

Even the cups that lined the shelves were ready for Christmas with snowmen and reindeer on them. Sometimes people just came into the shop to get a festive cup and post it on their Instagram feed without even wanting a hot drink just so they could show how festive they were. But no one was more into the festive spirit than your next customer of the day.

A smaller man with long brown curls and warm brown eyes to match walked up to the counter dressed in a costume to resemble one of Santa’s elves. You stifled a laugh but admired his effort. He’d even brought a pair of very realistic pointy ears and shoes that had jingle bells at the end of their pointed toes.

You also couldn’t help but notice how attractive the man was beneath the ridiculous costume. There was something about him that made the air around him seem to glow and a warm flutter occur in your chest. It was as if you knew him from somewhere but couldn’t place him.

“What can I get you?” You snapped yourself out of your small trance, remembering you had a job to do. The man looked at you with a smile that put the stars to shine, his eyes crinkling with happiness as he looked around at the menu.

“Um, do you have peppermint hot chocolate with a sprig of cinnamon, topped with cream and marshmallows? Oh and don’t forget the candy cane and chocolate sprinkles.”

You giggled lightly and jotted his order down, not even annoyed by the amount of toppings he wanted. Usually an order like that would have stressed you out beyond doubt and you almost always got something wrong but for some reason you weren’t worried with this customer. His smile was enough to comfort you.

“One order of diabetes coming up.” You shook your head with a laugh and gave him a wink before going to make his order, missing the way his already rosy cheeks turned bright red with a glow that could put Rudolph to shame.

“A-are you Y/n?”

You turned around from preparing his cup and nodded, giving him a small smile.

“That’s me. Did you need something?”

The man took off his hat and wrung it in his hands causing it to jingle. He wore a bashful smile and took a deep breath, the points of his ears twitching as they turned as red as his cheeks.

“No. I-I just heard a lot about you is all.”

You looked at him curiously as the corner of your mouth twitched into a small smile. You wondered how he knew you until you realised your name tag was pinned on your apron. “Oh really? Did Santa tell you all about me?”

He looked confused as you laughed, finishing his drink order and handing him the cup with a candy cane on the side.

“Well yes.” He smiled and nodded, laughing as you did the same. He thanked you for his drink before outstretching his hand. “I’m Tom.”

You smiled at the polite gesture and shook his hand, finding comfort in the warmth and feel of his hand in yours. “Well Tom the elf, it was nice to meet you.”

“Merry Christmas.” He chimed, taking his cup to go and sit at a nearby table. For the first time all year you echoed his words back to him with a small smile and a blush painting your cheeks.

Tom took a deep breath as he sat down at the table, feeling better as he took a sip of his hot chocolate before almost burning his tongue. He quickly put the cup down and pulled out a smartphone from his pocket.

It had been a gift from Santa last year as part of his promotion and he had thought it would be a good way to stay in touch with his brothers back at the pole. He pressed all kinds of buttons to try and turn it on, smiling as he finally saw the screen flash. He looked around at the nearby customers and showed them proudly but they didn’t seem as impressed.

Tom touched the screen and watched as things opened and closed, some even played sound. It was like magic. He had always wondered what people’s fascination with technology was and now he knew. There was even an app where he could look at himself and make himself look like a puppy or a bear and with one click he had taken a picture of himself which made him laugh.

After taking a sip of his finally cool enough drink Tom looked up at the many decorations that were in the small shop and smiled. His eyes soon met Y/n’s and they both smiled at each other before she turned away with a darker colour on her cheeks than before.

Eventually she walked over to his table, cleaning up a spot and organizing the menus. Tom looked up at her and smiled again, taking a final sip of his hot chocolate. Y/n looked back at him with a curious look.

“You’re not from around here are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Tom blushed, swirling his spoon around what was left of the liquid. Y/n smiled and pocketed a pen she was carrying into her apron.

“The accent and the clothes kind of give it away.” She giggled and the sound made Tom’s heart flutter with happiness, it was like no other melody he had heard before and it was beautiful. You were just as beautiful as he’d imagined in person and the warm glow you emitted was enough to make him feel at ease. He couldn’t imagine why you were on the naughty list.

“Plus,” She added, cleaning his cup away with a sadder look than before. “The city clearly hasn’t broken you down yet.” And with one last smile, much less bright, she walked back behind the counter, leaving Tom to wonder what she meant.

By the time Tom was finished with his second cup, feeling the sugar lifting his spirits, he decided he was going to ask Y/n if they could talk or hang out but when he looked back up to find her she was gone. Her apron and name tag had been left on the side and a new person had taken her place serving customers.

Tom’s heart deflated as he took his cup back up to the counter, wondering where he would go next and if he’d be able to find her again.

Just as he was doubting his mission and debating whether to return to the North Pole, a sweet voice sounded in his ear and someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Elfie, you okay?”

Tom had never smiled more than when he turned around to see Y/n once more. Her smile was bright once again as she collected her bag and looked at him. Tom nodded at her question and walked with her out of the shop. She gasped as she looked at the snow that had started to fall from the sky, all the rain from earlier dried up and gone.

“Maybe today isn’t so bad after all.” She muttered to herself before turning to Tom and giving him a curious look. Tom hummed and watched the snow, his eyes slowly meeting hers.

“I never do this but here’s my number.”

Y/n took his hand and scribbled down some numbers on the back of it with her pen. Tom giggled at the sensation and went to read the number sequence out loud before Y/n stopped him.

“Don’t give everyone in New York my number.” She laughed and shook her head. “That’s just for you. Maybe we can hang out one day? I’d love to see where you work, maybe I can get my little niece something from Santa’s Grotto.”

“That’s at the North Pole.” Tom nodded, happy he knew about something she was speaking of. Y/n laughed and nodded, giving him another wink.

“Right Elfie.”

Tom watched as she started to walk away, smiling wide before wondering what on earth he was supposed to do with the numbers on his hand. He tried to touch them like he did on the smartphone but nothing happened.

Something must have happened though because suddenly his phone started to buzz rapidly. Tom worried for a moment that it was going to explode until he saw his brother’s face appear on the screen. He pressed the little green button and suddenly he could hear Harry’s voice coming through the screen.

“Harry?! It’s so good to hear from you.” Tom sighed softly as he leaned against the shop window, laughing at their poor imitation of Santa.

“Tom mate, we’ve been worried sick! We told you to call us!”

“I would if I knew how!” Tom argued back, smiling politely at a woman who walked past and gave him an odd look. “I met her. Harry she- she’s beautiful and kind and there has to be a mistake.”

“I told you bro, there isn’t a mistake. If someone is naughty you can’t change them, it doesn’t work that way.” Harry spoke sadly, trying to tempt his brother back home. “Do you even have a place to stay or money?”

“I’m not an idiot Harry. I have money and I’m sure I’ll find a place to stay, how hard can it be?”

It turned out to be very hard indeed. Hotels turned out to cost a fortune and strangers were very rude if you asked to stay at their house. This place wasn’t like the North Pole at all.

The streets were cold and offered very little shelter so Tom went to the only place he knew and huddled in the corner of a small table. The shop was closed but it hadn’t been locked so he felt a stroke of luck being able to wait there.

That was his plan: he’d wait until morning to see Y/n again and make her Christmas spirit rise once again. And if there was one way Tom knew how to raise Christmas spirit it was decorations, lots of decorations.

He instantly got to work on making the coffee shop more festive. His elf skills came in useful as he cut out paper decorations from napkins, hung strings of lights and even made some fake presents out of cardboard.

Exhaustion overtook him as he finished and looked proudly at his work before curling back into his warm corner. His sleep was restless to say the least and cut short by someone tapping him on the shoulder.

“Elfie?”

Tom stirred and blinked his weary eyes open. He was met with the perfect view of Y/n, the sun shining behind her from the windows and a small amused smile on her lips.

“Oh hey.” Tom smiled back, rubbing his eyes as he sat up properly. The sound of soft Christmas music started to play as the streets outside became more crowded with people.

“Did you sleep here?” Y/n asked curiously as she tilted her head at him. She looked worried, that much Tom could tell as he nodded.

“Yeah. Did you know hotel’s cost a lot of money?”

Y/n laughed and nodded, brushing back his messy curls gently before quickly pulling away. Tom pouted at the loss of her touch and woke himself up fully, watching Y/n admire his decorating work.

“Did you do this?”

Tom nodded and bounced on the balls of his feet with a proud smile. Y/n’s eyes lit up at seeing all the beautiful, handmade decorations just like her family used to make.

“It’s beautiful.” Y/n smiled at him as she put her apron on and made him a cup of coffee, on the house she said. Whatever that meant.

Tom sipped his coffee and sighed happily, feeling the warmth of the hot liquid fill him up from the inside out. He clasped his hands around the festive cup and didn’t even notice Y/n staring at him.

“Do you not have anywhere to stay?”

He looked up at her and shook his head, noticing the worried look creep back onto her face. Tom went to assure he was fine before Y/n spoke again, having a weird feeling of trust for the man dressed like an elf.

“You can stay at my place.” She smiled and started to set up shop for the rest of the customers. “It’s small and I only have one bed but you can’t sleep on the streets or in coffee shops.”

Tom watched the glow that surrounded her as she smiled, her heart of gold clear as day as she offered her home to a stranger dressed as an elf. She wasn’t even sure why she trusted him but there was something about him that reminded her of her childhood.

The time flew by as Tom drank more hot chocolate and even greeted guests as one of Santa’s elves. Y/n watched with a smile, suddenly feeling very festive as she watched children tell him what they wanted for Christmas and he promised to tell Santa.

It was something that had been missing from Y/n’s life for a while, even before the horrendous breakup. Christmas cheer was something that kept her going through her childhood, making each year more exciting than the next as she waited on letters from the North Pole but now it was nothing more than another day on the calendar.

She usually ended up ruining the festive season for others with her Grinch-like attitude and it wouldn’t surprise her if she was on Santa’s naughty list, if ever such a thing existed. Y/n had known for a long time that Santa wasn’t real and that it was childish to believe in such a thing.

Tom was surprised at the lack of Christmas decorations at your place but for someone on the naughty list for non believers what could he expect. There was one decoration of a small elf sitting on a shelf that Tom found quite offensive.

“Why don’t you like Christmas?” Tom asked before you could even close the door, his hands going into his pockets as he looked around the apartment.

You looked at him stunned and hung your coat up, placing your keys in their usual spot. “Why would you think that?”

Tom shrugged and looked around as if the lack of decorations gave enough of an answer. “There’s no decorations, you don’t wear a Christmas jumper like the rest of the people who serve coffee and every time a Christmas song comes on you roll your eyes.”

You smiled at his intuition and observation, guessing it wasn’t hard to notice. A small sigh left your lips. “It’s a long story.”

“I love long stories!” Tom said cheerfully with a bright smile and you wondered where exactly this guy had come from to be so wonderful and happy all the time. With a laugh you gave Tom a drink, surprised he’d never had beer before and sat down, spilling your whole sad story about the pen pal that stopped writing to you and how you slowly lost your festive spirit.

Tom’s face fell with his heart as he listened, finally understanding how you had become on the naughty list. You spoke about wanting a true love like you had seen in all those Disney movies and Tom wished once more that he could give you what you wished for but he just didn’t know how.

A thought crossed his mind that maybe he could solve it but before he could dwell on it you spoke again.

“Anyway, since then I just gave up. Christmas is just another pointless day.” You took a sip of your drink and swirled the last drop around the bottom of the bottle. Tom watched you carefully and thought sadly that this was all his fault, he was the reason you had lost your Christmas cheer. Nonetheless he was determined to give it back to you.

“So what’s your story?” You asked as you sat down that evening, having got a Chinese takeaway to save you from cooking. Tom looked at the noodles in fascination as he spun them around on his fork. “Do you want maple syrup with that?”

Tom looked at you as you giggled and raised a brow from confusion. “Huh?”

“Have you never seen Elf?” You looked at him bewildered, Elf was a Christmas classic that everyone had watched. Tom shook his head.

“I mean I’ve seen elves because I am one.”

You giggled again and quickly loaded the movie on Netflix as Tom watched in awe at your magic box as he called it.

“It’s a movie about an Elf who goes to New York.”

Tom turned to watch it, reminded of himself as he heard about the details from you. However, he was nothing like the Elf in the movie. He at least knew some things about human culture but they had got some aspects of Elf life right and Tom told you as much as the movie played.

You watched him in fascination for a moment, he was excited not only by the movie but by the food too. His costume looked like no other you had seen before, it was extremely detailed as if he had been plucked straight from the north pole.

“I never got where you’re from.”

“The North Pole.” Tom said matter-of-factly, happily eating his noodles and becoming confused as you laughed. “What’s funny?”

“No seriously.” You nudged him, amused by his answer. He was very good at his job.

“I am serious.” Tom nodded without a hint of laughter on his face. He still smiled though, brightly and wide.

You decided to drop the question and nodded, finishing your dinner. Tom was engrossed in the movie, laughing and clapping at the good parts. He even sang along with the songs and you smiled at hearing his beautiful voice. He didn’t even notice as you fell asleep just as the credits rolled, your head resting on his shoulder and a soft snore leaving your lips.

Tom’s heart filled with a newfound warmth as he watched you, putting a blanket over you and making sure you were warm before he let himself finally fall asleep next to you.

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

Over the next few weeks Tom adjusted to the city and you adjusted to his ways, always trying to figure him out but he always insisted on sticking to his Elf story.

It started to irritate you since you had told him about yourself and it hurt that he wouldn’t return the favour. You never pushed it but you wanted to know what it was about him.

Tom had even started helping in the coffee shop, finally changing out of his costume but still spreading Christmas cheer. It was infectious. Even when he got an order wrong, which he did, he still smiled and gave the customer a free cookie, wishing them a merry Christmas.

You started to appreciate Christmas more with Tom around, feeling the same kind of spirit you did as a kid. Your co-workers were surprised to hear you singing along to the holiday music with Tom, practically dancing around the shop.

Christmas spirit came back to you slowly but surely and eventually Tom knew it was his time to go. He wanted to avoid a painful goodbye and wrapped up as quietly as he could, grabbing his stuff from your place while you were on shift.

It wasn’t until he was ready that he realised he had no way of getting back to the North Pole unless he waited until Christmas Eve and that’s only if Santa wasn’t mad at him. He texted Harry on his phone and hoped that the small box would deliver his message.

“Why won’t you tell me who you really are?”

Tom turned as you walked in the door, practically slamming it. You had had enough and you were determined to find out the truth. Your mood was affected by the text you had just received from your Ex, a simple merry Christmas as if he hadn’t broken your heart this time last year.

“Y/n I-”

That’s when you spotted the bag full of his stuff and that he was back in his costume. “You’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a question and Tom knew that. He nodded but kept quiet, not wanting to upset her more.

“I’m Tom. I’m an elf from the north pole.”

“Stop!” You yelled louder than you had meant to. “Stop with this nonsense. Elves aren’t real and neither is Santa. Christmas is a stupid holiday.”

Tom was hurt from her words, swallowing the lump in his throat. He had thought he’d helped her get her Christmas spirit back but maybe he had just been kidding himself.

“I know you Y/n. I know that when you were 6 you wanted a barbie doll, when you were 16 you wanted a car and you wanted your true love. I know because I was responsible for those things because I am an elf.” Tom rambled, taking his hat off and moving his curls so you could see his pointy ears. “It was my fault that you didn’t get what you wanted but I know why I couldn’t find him. It’s because we were both looking in the wrong places.”

Tom walked closer to you and took a deep breath, wringing his hat in his hands.

“I am an elf, that’s the truth whether you believe it or not. I live at the North Pole and make people’s Christmas wishes come true. I was the one who wrote all those letters to you. And then I saw you on the naughty list and I knew I had to come and make sure you were okay because you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

You blushed at Tom’s speech, trying to process everything he was saying. You’d spent half of your life thinking none of what he was saying was real and now he was telling you it was.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” You scoffed at Tom and laughed, sitting down. Tom sat down next to you and took your hand. “But it’s the truth, I swear.”

You looked at Tom as his hand fit into yours and remembered all those letters you had looked forward to every Christmas. Of course you had pictured who you thought was an imaginary penpal but you had never expected him to be real or as handsome as Tom.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You shook your head softly, squeezing his hand. The painful memories sprung to mind of last year and of your heart shattering into a million pieces. “I did find a true love or what I thought was a true love but he broke me instead.”

Tom’s heart broke for you as he watched a tear fall down your cheek, wanting to wipe it away but you beat him to it. He had heard about you finally finding someone and he remembered feeling sad about it. His brothers had told him he was jealous but he was sure that wasn’t it. He just knew that he wasn’t her true love.

“Since then I’ve just kind of been floating and trying to get through the year. That was until you showed up.” You smiled kindly at Tom, meeting his sweet gaze and everything seemed to click into place. You had only known him for a few weeks and yet it felt like a lifetime.

A moment passed between you as you slowly leaned in with Tom wondering what you were doing. You brought your lips closer to his face and he realized what was happening, it was the thing he’d heard that people who love each other do.

“You were right. I have been looking in the wrong places.”

Tom’s heart hammered in his chest and a smile lifted his lips as they finally met yours but before Tom could kiss you back, a loud knock sounded at the door. There was barely any time to answer it before someone who looked almost exactly like Tom with a matching costume burst through the door.

“Did someone order an Elf?”

Tom groaned at his brother’s timing whilst you just laughed. The surprise visitor had made you pull apart, interrupting the kiss.

“Harry!”

The younger elf looked at his brother and shrugged. “What? You asked me to come and get you! C’mon Tess is waiting on the roof.”

Tom smiled at the mention of his pet reindeer and usually would have jumped at the chance to go and see her but he knew this moment was more sad. He had to say goodbye, maybe for good.

You stood up as he did and looked at him sadly, your hands still interlocked with his.

“So I guess you have to go?”

Tom nodded sadly as Harry gave them a moment. He wrapped his arms around you and tried not to think of this as goodbye but as a job well done. He had done what he had set out to do and made you believe in Christmas once more.

“Will I ever see you again?” You asked, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you. It reminded you so much of last year but with a more gentle heartbreak.

Tom wanted to promise you that of course you would and he would be back but he didn’t know. Elves were so busy this time of year and there was no telling what trouble he would get into when he got back.

“I hope so. I never want to say goodbye to you.” Tom went to kiss your cheek before you pulled him in for a proper kiss, cupping his rosy cheeks in your hands.

Kissing you was everything Tom had imagined and more, it made him feel warm and cosy like drinking 10 hot cocoas in one go. He never wanted it to end but the jingle bells that came from the roof was enough to tell him his time was up.

“Thank you for making my Christmas wish come true.” You whispered against his lips as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his.

Tom wondered what you meant and it wasn’t until he was taking off to the skies with Harry talking in his ear that he realised. A small smile appeared on his lips as he caught the tears falling down his cheeks. All those times he’d wondered how to make the impossible wish come true and he had been the answer all along.

Epilogue

“Merry Christmas!” You smiled as you finished serving another order to a young girl and her mother. The girl was dressed as an Elf, reminding you of a certain someone. “I like your costume!”

The little girl thanked you as she skipped off into the snowy streets. Your heart ached at the reminder of Tom but the memories he had left you with were enough to make you smile.

“You seem a lot more in the festive spirit!” Your co-worker smiled at you, handing you a hot chocolate. She thought your order was a little weird; peppermint hot chocolate with a sprig of cinnamon, topped with cream and marshmallows and a candy cane on the side.

“What can I say? A friend showed me that Christmas is the best time of year.” You smiled and sipped your drink, hiding your small frown as you missed Tom even more. You had still kept his decorations up in the shop and even put some in your apartment to make it more festive.

When Tom had left you went to look at the letters you still had saved and read them over and over again. It all clicked into place and they made you smile more than they had when you were a kid. You kept the letters with you to remind you of Tom and you had even written him a new one this year with just one wish.

“Y/n there’s a customer who’s asking for you.” One of your younger co-workers called for you, her monotone voice carrying through to where you were. You smiled and re-did your apron, putting on your elf hat that you had brought especially.

“Hi what can i-?”

Time stood still as you looked across the counter and saw the same curly brown hair and kind face that only visited in your dreams as of lately. The one you were sure you’d never see again in his bright elf costume and with a bright smile.

In an instant you were out from behind the counter and wrapping your arms around him, smiling happily. He picked you up in his arms and laughed.

“Hi to you too y/n.”

“Shut up and kiss me Elfie.” You pulled back and crashed your lips to Tom’s with a giggle, not wasting a second of time. Tom laughed with you and smiled into the kiss as he finally got his own Christmas wish of seeing you again.

“I got your wish list.” Tom smiled as he pulled back, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and making you smirk as you took it and read your own writing.

All I want for Christmas is you.

“Thank you for making it come true again.” You played with his curls which had grown since you had last seen him, kissing his face.

Tom giggled and held you close, tasting his usual hot chocolate order on your lips as you kissed him again. “Anything for you.”

It was the first of many Christmas wishes that Tom made come true that year, determined to not let your heart get broken ever again and it never did when Tom owned the key to your heart.

Taglist

Permanent - @flower-name ♡ @the-girl-in-the-chair ♡ @petersasteria ♡ @theglitterymess ♡ @tommyvibes ♡ @thegirlwiththeimpala ♡ @enchantedlaufeyson ♡ @lowkey-holland ♡ @sunflowerspidey ♡ @cosmicvibecheck ♡ @lolooo22 ♡ @StixnStripesworld ♡ @quaksonhehe ♡ @mathletemadison ♡ @tom-hlover ♡ @eeyore101247 ♡ @darlingspidey ♡ @ameelia ♡ @call-me-baby-gir1 ♡ ♡ @sadxaries ♡ @miraclesoflove ♡ @emistrash ♡ @namoreno ♡ @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ♡ @parkerbunny ♡ @jackie1819 ♡ @nuttytani ♡ @the-fan-18 ♡ @lovehollandy12 ♡ @hallecarey1 ♡ @capital-koreasofia ♡ @prancerrparkerr ♡ @parkerdarling ♡ @hollandsmushroom ♡ @petesrparker

Tom Holland - @teen--marvel ♡ @spideyspeaches ♡ @dpaccione ♡ @dreamy-clousds ♡ @parkerpeter24 ♡ @sinisterspidey ♡ @outshineallthestars ♡ @capital-koreasofia ♡ @ms-misery

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #reader insert #fanfic #tom holland #christmas #elf!tom #my writing

[vs-redemption]

This piece was written for my Birthday/Halloween Jeopardy Event!

Haunted House (Shoto Todoroki x GN!Reader)

Requested by: @todoroki-waifu Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Halloween spooky times!

Todoroki knew the concept of Halloween fairly well, but the situation in which he’d grown up had left him without much real experience with the holiday. Dressing up, watching scary movies, and eating sweets had been considered frivolous and unnecessary to his training by his father. Over the years, he’d caught glimpses of his siblings in their costumes before their mother had taken them trick-or-treating or to friend’s houses for Halloween parties, but that was the extent of his involvement.

He’d learned a bit more during his time at UA as well thanks to living in the dorms with his friends. It had been interesting to watch them decorate the common area with fake spider webs, jack-o-lanterns, and paper ghosts. The Halloween themed songs that Kaminari had played from his Bluetooth speaker had been rather peculiar, but he enjoyed seeing everyone dance and sing along with the music regardless. Unfortunately, he never managed to stay awake long enough to sit through one of the late night horror movies that had his classmates either jumping and shrieking, or laughing and teasing. After graduation though, he’d lost touch with the holiday once again.

“Want to go to a haunted house tonight, Shoto?” You skip up to your boyfriend after he gets home from work and show him the advertisement that you’d found while scrolling through your phone that day. “It’s supposed to be really scary!”

“Haunted house?” He glances up at you curiously before looking at your phone. “This is just an attraction, right? It’s not really haunted.” A soft laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head. It never failed to amuse you when he asked silly questions like that.

“Of course it’s not really haunted,” you assure him. “It’s just for fun and to get into the Halloween spirit.”

Todoroki still had a hard time understanding why someone would want to be scared and wondered if there really was something fun about experiencing the emotion. He knew it would just be a bunch of actors in costumes and clever tricks done with smoke and mirrors, so there really was no harm in going. Nobody would truly be in danger and it was something you could do together that would make you happy.

“All right, let’s go,” he agrees, feeling satisfied by the excited grin that takes over your face.

You both arrive at the location a little after sunset and Todoroki pays for two tickets into the attraction. The autumn air makes waiting in line a little chilly, but your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate to tuck you against his left side to warm you up. As you get closer to the entrance, you can hear the spooky sounds coming from inside the haunted house; high pitched cackles, mysterious bangs and clanks, and the terrified screams of the customers already inside.

“Starting to get nervous?” you ask him once you make it to the front and hand your tickets to the employee at the entrance. Todoroki wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t truly afraid, but he certainly felt uneasy. He didn’t like that he had no idea what to expect after walking through the front door. He could see that you were starting to second guess yourself though and slid his hand into yours before stepping inside.

“We’ll be fine as long as we’re together,” he whispers, blinking his duel colored eyes to try and adjust them to the pitch black. You both shuffle forward, hands outstretched so you don't run into any walls. The sound of a loud, long howl comes from up ahead and suddenly a strobe light turns on, revealing an extremely realistic looking werewolf springing out from a hidden gap in the wall.

“AH!” You scream and latch onto Todoroki who has to hold back the instinct to send a wave of fire at the decoration to protect you.

“It’s not real,” He reminds you, his voice soft. “Let’s keep walking.” You both turn a corner and head down a hallway full of mirrors that looked to have the faces of ghosts popping right out of them. The eerie blue glow they gave off, in combination with a carefully placed wind machine, made goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“How do they do that?” You ask, “It’s so creepy!”

“Not sure,” Todoroki focuses his eyes on the end of the hallway to avoid looking at the mirrors. “Just think of it like a 3D picture or something.” He keeps his hand in yours while you move to the next room where the sound of rattling chains could be heard just out of sight. You both wondered what you were in for next when someone dressed as a zombie jumped out at you, groaning and waving their arms as if he were trying to grab you.

“Shoto!” You dart behind your boyfriend and bury your face in his back.

“Keep walking,” He encourages you while turning to put himself between you and the zombie. “He won’t follow us into the next area.”

You both continue to make your way through the haunted house, one thing after another coming out of nowhere to scare you out of your wits. Todoroki wondered if you were really having fun. It didn’t seem like it to him. He focused all his attention on getting you out as quickly as possible. He knew it was all fake, but it still was upsetting you which he did not like one bit.

“I’m coming for you!!!” A man in a mask begins chasing you both with a chainsaw, holding the weapon above his head and shouting out threats. Todoroki urges you forward, still while staying behind you protectively. You turn another corner and suddenly the exit comes into view, the light of the safety from outside inspires you both to move just a little faster until you finally make it out of the house. The man in the mask stops right in the doorway and revs the engine of his chainsaw a few times before turning around and heading back to terrorize the guests that were still inside.

“That was wild,” you slump over with a hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so glad to be out of there!”

“Me too,” Todoroki sighs in relief and rubs your back comfortingly. He still had no idea how anyone could actually enjoy an experience like that. After your racing heart settles down, you both head over to a small shop nearby to get something warm to eat and a hot chocolate.

“I think that’s enough Halloween spirit until next year,” you laugh sheepishly and Todoroki tilts his head in confusion.

“Until next year?” he asks.

“Yeah!” You grin, the excitement coming back to your eyes. “I would totally do that again!”

#Jeopardy Event #Best Moot Squad #belle💖 #Shoto Todoroki x Reader #Bnha x Reader #MHA x Reader #Shoto Todoroki #bnha #mha #Cindy's writing

[janamelie]

Dimension Jump XXI Report

I suppose I’m a DJ veteran now as this was my fifth consecutive one and the fourth at the Nottingham Crowne Plaza which is an expensive four-star hotel.  Sharing with a friend helps keep the cost reasonable and honestly, it’s worth it for the sheer convenience of being right there in the hotel and being able to nip back to your room as required.  (To be clear, you don’t have to stay in the hotel to attend the con.  There are plenty of other hotels nearby.)

Plus there is always the chance that you’ll see a guest at breakfast as I did Danny once.  He picked out a few pieces of fruit and nibbled at them before wandering over late to his photoshoot.  What else would you expect from a cat though?

Friday

Myself and @downonthepharm-red-dwarf (Amy) had arrived the previous day so had plenty of time to be near the front of the queue for registration.  Which meant we saw Hattie Hayridge arrive in a stunning designer coat and with smart luggage.  She really brought her outfit A-game and looked great the whole weekend.

Once we’d presented our respective proofs of full Covid vaccination or a recent negative test, we were given our DJ passes and booklets.  The latter has spaces for signatures from guests, an Order Of Events and various handy tips for the weekend.

The con kicks off at 5pm with an hour of gradual build-up in the Main Hall - they show videos from previous events, specially made titbits with various guests past and present such as Mark Dexter doing a mock guide to DJ and Rebecca Blackstone voicing Pree.  It all helps with the atmosphere, as do the numerous RD posters dotted around the hotel.

Then it was time for the Opening Ceremony featuring various Fan Club team members and an overcrowded stage full of cardboard boxes - the joke was that they’d had too much time on their hands during lockdowns and bought loads of stuff online.  It was obviously also a nod to Lister’s hoarding in “The Promised Land”.  

The sketch featured a specially made shot of the AA adverts’ Starbug model landing outside the Crowne Plaza and an 80s computerised version of the lovely convention logo.  You could tell a lot of loving effort had gone into the whole thing.

Once the guest line-up had been announced (I’ll get to that not-really-a-surprise-guest shortly), we went straight into the RD Pub Quiz, hosted by Hattie.  DOTP and I had been joined at our table by Lapsang and Barbs from our Discord (No Kind Of Atmosphere) plus various other attendees we’d befriended.

Someone in the crowd yelled “I love you, Hattie!” to which she quipped “I’ve pulled already!”  Another bloke shouted “Fuck off, she’s mine!” which led to a few shouts of “Fight!”  When neither seemed keen to do so, Hattie joked: “Only two?  That’s a bit pathetic!” and then we got started.

The quiz is hard, by design, but I’m good at quizzes and my team - No Kind Of Atmosphere after our Discord - came joint third which was gratifying.  (I was on the winning team a few DJs ago, to blow my own trumpet for a moment.  This is my report, after all.)

And then it was time for the first guest Q&A with - surprise, surprise - Johnny Vegas aka the Crit Cop in “Timewave”.  Not a great episode but he more than made up for that with an appearance I can only describe as chaotic.  Warning - DO NOT attempt to heckle him unless you want to be singled out and humiliated in front of the entire audience in a “Can’t look away” fashion which was nonetheless entertaining.  The man in question tweeted about it afterwards and seems to have taken it in good spirit.

Once we’d moved on from encouraging people to leave unpleasant things in room 429, it turned out Johnny’s a big fan of the show and owned it on VHS (so did I).  He thinks of the main characters, Holly would win at “Taskmaster” and had good reasons for that conclusion.  

He was dubious about the pink costume he wore in “Timewave” as he thought it might take away from the character but said he eventually decided he needed to get over what he was wearing and just go for it.  He also said one of his worst working moments was on “Benidorm” when he had to hold his breath underwater in a freezing swimming pool and his co-star kept forgetting her two lines so they had over 30 takes.  Ouch.

Johnny left commenting that he got less love at his 50th birthday party.  But we hadn’t seen the last of him by any means as people kept buying him drinks during the Auction, leading to him successfully bidding for one of the items on offer.

And then he was back for the Karaoke.  Now if you - as he informed us - had to undergo emergency dental surgery in the morning and had practically lost your voice, would you sing karaoke?  And not only that, would you sing a version of “Love On The Rocks” which lasted 11 minutes according to someone on Twitter (I wasn’t timing it, but I can believe it), followed by the full-length version of “American Pie”?

If you answered no, you’re clearly not Johnny Vegas.  He went to bed so late that the unfortunate Fan Club team member assigned to look after him got a grand total of 90 minutes’ sleep.

Saturday

DOTP and I had paid for the Photoshoot with Mr Vegas, Danny John-Jules and Ray Fearon.  We got in the queue at 9am which was when it was supposed to start.  An hour later we were still waiting.  Yep, Danny was late.

Once he made it to the hotel, I got my photo in front of a Science Room backdrop.  You might think Mr Vegas would be hungover and rushing through it, but on the contrary, he was still enjoying the hell out of proceedings which was refreshing to see.  Since he’d been added to the line-up too late to be in the souvenir booklet, he signed extra inserts for the Fan Club which they handed out to everyone at the later Autograph sessions so attendees got his autograph after all even though he’d finally left.  That’s what I call throwing yourself into an event.

Next up was a combined Q&A with Danny and Ray (originally separate but Danny’s lateness meant they were teamed up).  This wasn’t a problem at all though - on the contrary, it worked really well as the chumminess between them added to the vibe.  Also it was Ray’s first convention so he probably preferred to have Danny backing him up, especially since the poor man tripped on his way to the stage and almost fell.  I don’t think he was hurt but I cringed with secondhand embarrassment and empathy.  He wasn’t the only one to fall foul of the edge of the stage that weekend; I think it was the slightly raised dancefloor in front of it.

As is usual for Danny, we were treated to over half an hour of what you can only really describe as a stream of consciousness as he pontificated about various things.  He and Ray did also talk about working together on “Death In Paradise” and Ray described his worst working experience there - he had to play a scene in a club in 45 degree heat with a live snake wrapped around his neck!

Ray is attractive in a “Hollywood hunk” way and Danny was clearly conscious of this, joking that he’d “brought his own security with him” and muttering “I’m better-looking anyway!”  But all in a jokey way as they’re clearly friends.

Danny had come from filming and dropped a heavy hint that he’s appearing in a Dickens adaptation which I imagine will be shown at Christmas as they generally are.  He also complained that Craig Charles never answers his phone: “You send him a message and he answers it on Twitter a month later!”  (Interestingly, Chris Barrie later mentioned a recent phone conversation with Craig so make of that what you will.)

Ray was quieter but happy to talk about the vagaries of showbiz and typecasting - he said that due to his Shakespearean background he gets a lot of serious roles so people were genuinely surprised that he could also do comedy but “I was always funny!”  He also gently teased Danny about the age of some of his references before admitting he still finds Tommy Cooper funny.

Danny usually performs “Tongue-tied” with a good grace when inevitably asked to by an audience member but perhaps it’s finally starting to pall as this time he did it in the style of Oliver Reed’s Bill Sykes and included a lot of X-rated references to cunnilingus etc.  It was entertaining though.

Next up was a live Q&A (over Zoom) with Chris Barrie.  Danny decided to stick around as he wanted to show Chris something he’d ordered online.  It took a while to get the cameras in the right position for Chris to be able to see it and Danny needed a knife to open the parcel, leading Chris to quip “Is this a good time for me to step out for some lunch?”

However, it turned out to be worth it as it was a custom-made Ace Rimmer doll which impressed Chris with its quality and he complimented the maker.

Danny and Ray then departed for their lunch and to take part in the Coffee Lounge which this year had reduced its numbers for Covid-related reasons and held a ballot for entry in the interests of fairness.  Amy and I didn’t get in but happily stayed for the rest of Chris’s Q&A.

In the “working from home” spirit, Chris was in a hoodie in his living room as opposed to his more usual smart suit.  He was suitably relaxed and revealed he got through lockdown by concentrating on the things which make him happy, such as his hobbies, his garden and his family.  His favourite episodes are “Marooned”, “Dimension Jump” and - less predictably - “Twentica”.  He also referred to a recent “mannerly, as he would call it” phone conversation with Craig.  No details but it had clearly been a positive experience.

Amy decided to liven up the ending of his Q&A by asking a vitally important, “TPL”-related question.  Whom would Rimmer find more attractive, a female version of Lister or a female version of Cat?

Once the laughter had died down and Chris had bought some time by pointing out that “neither of them are women”, he gave the question appropriate consideration.  He pondered whether Rimmer would be more taken by the “simple charms” of Lister or the “feline grace” of Cat.  This next bit is courtesy of Amy as my memory isn’t infallible: He said it’d be a choice between a feline form or a rounder, a bit more slovenly woman - he wouldn’t want the perfectly feline woman because she might not like his imperfections, but he also wouldn’t want someone who ate curry three times a day.  “Basically, a balance would be ideal.”

That was the last question but Chris provided a little more entertainment as he had a “How do you turn this off then?” moment a la Gordon the computer in “Better Than Life” and made amusing faces as he figured it out.  If it was anyone but Chris I’d think it was a deliberate reference to that but I think he was genuinely befuddled.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Autographs with Hattie, Danny, Ray and Norman Lovett.  I got the latter three to sign the “TPL” poster I’d brought with me but gave Hattie the booklet instead as it seemed more tactful.  She complimented the dress I was wearing and I returned the compliment, telling her how much the fans appreciate the effort she makes with her DJ outfits.

Norman commented how there’s a version of the “TPL” poster he isn’t on, bemusedly.  Fortunately mine was the version including him. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon chilling in the bar with Amy, Lapsang and Barbs, chatting to other attendees.  Graphic Designer Matthew Clark was now in the Merchandise Room with various props from Series XII and “TPL” including the Starbug manual used onscreen.  I got his autograph on my poster but it’s an incomprehensible squiggle.  Oh well.  He was very friendly and easy to talk to.

After a break for dinner, the Main Hall reopened for the Costume Competition.  This seems to get better every DJ, with an amazing “Greyscale Rimmer” who was discomfiting to be around due to the corpse-like makeup, a Natalina Pushkin, a Nirvanah Crane who could almost have been Jane Horrocks herself and a Diving Suit Cat from “BTE”.  Other entries included Rimmer’s Mum, “Giraffes who were armed and dangerous” and a Confidence And Paranoia who were later pictured at the bar chatting to Paranoia himself, Lee Cornes.

We then had a special video message from Doug Naylor which I won’t go into as I’m sure everyone’s already heard the details.  Suffice to say, his tone was positive.

The second Auction was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who made it more entertaining by adding his own commentary to each item.  This was followed by a stand-up set from Norman.  It was amusing but he misjudged the mood a bit, I feel.  When you’re waiting for a disco to start and it’s already hours late due to Danny’s tardiness, you don’t particularly want to contemplate your own mortality.  We were here to get away from all that, as much as possible.

Anyway, the Disco was a lot of fun even if Dave Benson Phillips’ presence as host was sorely missed.  Hattie danced for the best part of an hour alongside everyone else.  The stand-in DJs did their job and I stayed until the end.  The final two songs were “Bohemian Rhapsody” and … “Tongue-tied”.

Sunday

Not being in the Sunday Photoshoot, Amy and I had a nice leisurely breakfast and got over last night’s festivities before the first Q&A, live over Zoom with Robert Llewellyn.

This was hosted by Ian Boldsworth who in his capacity as Dave era audience warm-up knows Robert well.  Clearly well enough to get away with teasing him relentlessly about not being at the con in person until poor Robert was a mess of Krytenesque guilt.  

His protestations that he’d been scheduled to be in Munich this weekend but no longer was (he was at home) only made things worse.  Ian: “Oh, so that’s two sets of people you’ve disappointed now!  Stop saying yes to things!”  It was hilarious and Robert took it in its intended spirit.  Also Ian was getting a measure of revenge for Robert - in character as Kryten - dry humping him at recordings.  One attendee asked “With the groinal attachment?!”

Robert admitted that he finds Kryten’s various groinal attachments hilarious and if he was writing the show they’d be in every episode.  He praised Doug’s restraint.

He also admitted that in “TPL” he had an earpiece to have his lines fed to him.  Since it’s controlled by an iPad, certain unscrupulous cast members took great delight in feeding him rude ones.

He still intends to update “The Man In The Rubber Mask” but atm “Fully Charged” is consuming a lot of his time as it’s become much more successful than he anticipated and he’s in charge of several people.

Surprisingly, he would hate appearing in RD without the Kryten makeup, both because it’s become much quicker to apply and because it provides him with a shield and he becomes Kryten and forgets stagefright.  He still can’t watch “DNA” for that reason.

Lapsang, who played Kryten in “Into The Gloop”, asked Robert if he’d seen it.  He hadn’t but said he was now very curious and would find a way to.

Next up was Lee Cornes aka Paranoia who said he originally auditioned for the lead roles and like the other unsuccessful actors got the consolation prize of a guest appearance.  Upon being asked if he’d gone out for a drink with Craig Ferguson’s Confidence, he said no because at the time they had a frosty relationship due to rumours that Craig was plagiarising other comics’ jokes.  Lee said it was all very silly and he’s since apologised.

Interestingly, Lee is a qualified science teacher and carried on with that career alongside his media one, leading to surreal situations where his pupils would ask: “Sir?  Were you on the telly last night?”  “Yes.”  “Are we on the telly now, sir?”

Someone asked a good question - what would Lister’s Paranoia be like now 33 years later?  Lee would be willing to reprise the role but isn’t sure it would work as the original had a childish quality whereas he feels now the character would be a lot darker and less funny.  Lee was both thoughtful and entertaining in his responses.

He was followed onstage by Hattie and Norman, who resolutely refused to rise to the bait of an audience member attempting to stir up a rivalry between them.  That only works when one isn’t the nicest person you could meet.

A tactless audience member asked both if they’d watched “TPL” instead of directing the question at Norman.  Luckily Hattie had seen it and particularly enjoyed the cat flap joke although she felt there was a little too much focus on the guest cast.

Norman didn’t really watch RD after he left but Hattie has seen Norman’s early episodes as he lent them to her back when she was originally cast as Hilly for research purposes.  Bear in mind this was 1988 when they weren’t even available on VHS so presumably he recorded them off the TV.  

Hattie confirmed with a sigh that she’s simply never been asked to return in any capacity: “That’s the short answer.”  What the hell, I’ll say it one more time - Bring Back Hattie!  One episode, that’s all I ask.  As it stands, it’s starting to look like a pointed and deliberate snub which mystifies me.

We then broke for lunch, followed by Rob Grant and Paul Jackson.  For obvious reasons they didn’t go into the current legal mess, opting instead to entertain the fans with the story of how they met and their early pre-RD work (Rob and Doug as freelance writers for Paul’s producer).

We saw some clips from their early shows including “Three Of A Kind” with Lenny Henry, Tracy Ullman and … later magician David Copperfield; apparently they all had the same agent and Paul took on David as a favour.  For a 40 year old show it held up pretty well and was in much better sound and picture quality than older shows often are. “Carrott’s Lib” was just as funny.

It’s a bit hard to summarise but this session was entertaining and gripping.  Rob still wants to write another RD novel and I believe there’s nothing actually stopping him as both he and Doug had an option to write a second solo novel.  So we’ll see.

The final Q&A was Matthew Clark who was very informative and interesting, showing us numerous production stills from Series XII and “TPL” and talking us through them.  There was a groan when time was called before he was finished.

By now time was running short and Amy and I went back to the room to pack and leave our luggage with reception before watching the start of “Dibbley Family Fortunes”. Since I knew I wouldn’t have time to watch it all, I instead nipped upstairs to Autographs with Lee and Ian, timing it perfectly as the queue had almost vanished.

Ian was still performing, drawing scornful attention to the fact that Lee had a longer queue: “Can you imagine all these people queueing to see Lee Cornes?!”  It sounds rude out of context but he was clearly joking.

I decided to ask Lee what flavour the yogurt Paranoia eats was.  He said it didn’t really taste of anything as it was the cheapest, nastiest canteen yogurt available and was also starting to curdle under the studio lights so eating it can’t have been much fun.

Since I now had about 15 minutes before I had to go, I caught a bit of Dibbley Family Fortunes, said goodbye to Amy, Lapsang and Barbs and then dashed off to catch the tram to the train station.  Another great DJ.

#red dwarf

[mellowdreamer]

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO VERSE.

this is a modern bending vigilante/hero au featuring zukka, mailee, yueki and a lot of hijinks!

the gaang are all 16-19 here, because while bruce wayne apparently has no problem with it, i’m not comfortable with having vigilantes who haven’t yet gone through puberty.

the avatar world is just one big city, and each of the nations/cities are different suburbs of the city.

kyoshi island, ember island, and boiling rock are small islands off of the city, similar to singapore’s sentosa island.

the city (republic city? i dunno, get back to me on this one) is full of heroes, vigilantes and villains alike. the fire nation is a criminal empire intent on taking over the city. the avatar is a hero who works to keep the balance of heroes and villains in the city, and stop the entire city from becoming a war zone. 

however, the avatar disappeared 100 years ago, and no one was chosen to take up the mantle since. in the avatar’s absence, the fire nation was able to begin its quest to take over the city.

the heroes of the southern water tribe that were left after the various raids have left the southern water suburb on a mission to defeat the fire nation or die.

hakoda, alias chief, left his two young children in charge of their territory, despite them being a) children and b) relatively untrained.

katara, alias painted lady, is the only waterbender left in the southern water tribe. sokka, alias captain boomerang, is the only trained combat hero left in the southern water tribe. all those remaining are either children or incapable of fighting.

side tangent: when sokka does well, he calls himself “grand marshal boomerang” and when he does badly, he calls himself “private boomerang”. thank you to the crimily for coming up with this one!!

one night, when katara and sokka are out on patrol, they get chased by fire nation goons into the ice off of the southern harbour. there, they get into a fight over sokka’s sexist remarks and katara’s yelling having attracted the fire nation goons, and katara’s waterbending gets out of control. she breaks open an iceberg, only to find someone in there.

the two siblings approach the iceberg and break the person out. they are shocked to find a young boy in the unmistakable uniform of the avatar, resting next to a creature they’ve never seen before.

they wake the boy up, to find that his name is aang and he’s the next avatar. and that he has no idea of the fire nation’s quest to conquer the entire city, or the fact that the air nomads – heroes that didn’t resign to just one area of the city – hadn’t been seen for the same hundred years that he must’ve spent in the iceberg.

katara and a reluctant sokka take aang back to the apartment building where the remaining southern water suburb residents have been living and introduce him to everyone.

later that night, the three go out on patrol together. it’s a quiet night, and sokka thinks they might actually get through it without any incidents, until they find a woman being mugged.

sokka and katara are about to intervene, but aang takes down both thugs in a matter of seconds. aang, ignoring the slack jawed shock of his friends, asks if they could go penguin sledding. katara goes to agree, but is cut off by the shout of “MY HONOUR” from a nearby rooftop.

zuko, alias dragon prince, runs from the rooftop before they could find him. his father ozai, alias firelord, had sent him and his uncle iroh – formerly dragon of the west, now retired – to find the avatar. zuko had been banished from the fire nation territory years ago, after speaking up about a plan that would’ve cost them a whole division of goons and refusing to fight his father in an agni kai.

the kyoshi warriors are similar to the birds of prey or the amazons; they’re an all-female crime-fighting unit not directly associated with any of the kingdoms or nations. suki is their leader, and they don’t have secret identities like the other heroes.

iroh, bumi, piandao, jeong-jeong and p*kku are all retired heroes and a part of the order of the white lotus.

toph is the blind bandit and a hero, albeit a less morally structured and ‘good’ hero than the avatar, the painted lady, and captain boomerang. she was a part of the underground fighting ring ‘earth rumble’ when the gaang infiltrated the ring looking for intel and convinced her that her powers could be used for something better than beating bitches blue and making bank while doing it.

azula is firebolt, and she is as brilliant as she is terrifying. she’s arguably more feared than the firelord, mainly because she’s the one who frequents other areas and actually goes on missions. ozai just sits on his stupid throne and yells at people and manipulates his children like the little bitch he is.

mai and ty lee are azula’s sidekicks, and are known as blade and tightrope respectively. also: they’re lesbians, harold.

yue is a part of the northern water tribe’s group of heroes, alongside her family. they tried to marry her off to hahn and have her trained in healing instead of fighting, but she rebelled and threatened to go out on her own, so they relented. yue’s hero alias is tui, but she will be called sailor moon at least three times.

jet and his freedom fighters are a group of anti-heroes who aren’t afraid to hurt innocent people in their pursue of ‘justice’.

zhao is a villain who works for the firelord, under the alias admiral, and he’s an asshole. using the yuyan archers, he manages to capture aang and takes him to a fire nation stronghold. zuko finds out about this, and not wanting admiral asshole to get the upper hand, dresses as the blue spirit for the first time to rescue aang.

during the siege of the north, zhao “kills” yue. she fakes her own death and disappears into hiding until the final battle, in which she kills zhao because it’s what she deserves.

the gaang know that yue is alive, because she’s nice enough to not do them like that, but they have to keep up appearances. because of this, sokka amps up the heartbreak and clings to suki a lot. that’s why a lot of outsiders begin to think that sokka dated yue and is dating suki, though in reality yue and suki are dating each other.

zuko and iroh, after the siege of the north and a trap set by azula, disappear into hiding and decide to take refuge in ba sing se, knowing that the fire nation wouldn’t think to look for them there.

ba sing se is a section of the city that has been fenced off in order to prevent an influx of heroes and villains. the dai li, who keep a tight grip on the suburb and ensure that the residents don’t know of the war raging outside the walls, are a group of “heroes”.

of course, the fence does nothing to prevent zuko and iroh, the gaang, and later azula, mai and ty lee from entering ba sing se and turning it into their own warzone.

iroh fulfils his dream of finally owning a tea shop and zuko, when not working in the tea shop, spends his nights lingering in the shadows of ba sing se as the blue spirit.

sokka, desperate for a warm drink and something to do while the others do their bending training, wanders into the jasmine dragon one afternoon and is served by “lee”.

neither know the other’s civilian identity, so there’s no shady business, just pining over the cute customer/server. sokka strikes a conversion and the two begin flirting chatting. it’s going really well, and you can almost see the romance blooming.

and then in walks azula, flanked by mai and ty lee, all in costume.

sokka and zuko both leap up from their seats and into fighting stances. both are confused as to why the other jumped up, and then azula calls zuko brother and it clicks in sokka’s mind.

he starts yelling at zuko for a lot of things, including yue’s “death” which is how zuko realises who he is. zuko starts yelling back because he’s only once met a fight he didn’t like. in the background of this argument, iroh is trying to fight azula, mai and ty lee to varying degrees of success.

it’s funny that i say degrees, because this is when azula sets fire to the jasmine dragon. iroh grabs the two dumbass arguing teens and shoves them outside as he too runs, telling zuko to meet at their rendezvous point at sunrise.

azula, mai and ty lee chase after zuko and sokka (who are still arguing as they run from the three girls). mai and ty lee don’t want to chase them, because zuko has always been better to them than azula, but defying azula would be a death sentence.

sokka pulls zuko into a building for coverage, and because azula is azula, she summons the dai li and has them surround the building. there would be no leaving without confronting the dai li, and thus zuko and sokka are trapped.

sokka confronts zuko and basically asks how he could justify the fire nation’s villainy, how he could support a monster who’s killing hundreds of people. zuko defends his father blindly because he’s been raised to believe that his father is right, that his father has to be right, and this southern water scum is wrong. but zuko’s losing his grip on the argument and is becoming more and more hysterical but sokka is so calm, so sure of himself, and the dam finally breaks.

zuko crumples to the ground in tears, and now sokka’s gotta deal with this because ozai is a shitface and has been brainwashing his son for years and wow fuck the fire nation.

mai and ty lee, having taken down the dai li, burst in to find zuko crying his eyes out in sokka’s arms. they teasingly ask if they’re interrupting something and laugh as zuko next to sprints out of the building, sokka hot on his heels.

this is the last straw for zuko, who defects from the fire nation, hangs up his dragon prince uniform and fully becomes the blue spirit, a hero who works with the gaang to eventually take down the fire nation.

also, at some stage zuko rescues a turtleduck that got stuck up a tree. don’t ask me how this happens.

#holding out for a hero verse #whoa? original content? and on this blog? who would've thought? #i'm kind of proud of this even if it's corny and lame and took me very long #but you know what? i finished it and it's funny to me #and that's all i need #that's a lie i need validation #anyway #zuko #sokka #zukka #yueki #suki #mailee #gaang #superhero au #atla #aang #bitchlord ozai #uncle iroh doing the most #i couldn't be in the atla fandom long before turning to my dc roots #this is a very long mess #if you've made it this far than thank you #i love you!!! drink water and stay safe #be like zuko and wear ur fucking mask #actually they all wear masks in this au #except the kyoshi warriors but if covid were a thing they'd wear their masks #so wear ur fucking mask #i'm gonna stop rambling now #so #yeah i'm really feeling it today

[hadeschan]

item # N6F39

RARE Pra Pidta Luang Phor Boonchu, Roon Raek, Nua Pong Itthijay Pasom Pong Gradookphee. A Closing Eyes Buddha amulet made from mainly holy powder that contains human ashes and bone fragments of the dead who killed on the Saturday and were cremated on Tuesday, taken from 7 cremation sites (Phee Tai Hong Jet Pa Cha). Made by Luang Phor Boonchu of Wat Hua Wao, Sing Buri Province as his First Batch of Pra Pidta amulets, made in BE 2530 (CE 1987).

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“A first impression can have significant social consequences, people form judgments about others’, this amulet is with magic spell that makes people around you temporary blind to the charm of you. People will be kind to you, and support you no matter what.”

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BEST FOR: You will NEVER be alone EVER, the spirits are with you everywhere you go. They are following you all the time. They watch your back, they protect you and prevent danger. They blind people who are going to harm you. They cast magic charm and love spells on people around you. Wealth Fetching, Maha Larp (it brings lucky wealth), Metta Maha Niyom (it makes people around you love you, be nice to you, and willing to support you for anything), Kaa Kaai Dee (it helps tempt your customers to buy whatever you are selling, and it helps attract new customers and then keep them coming back, Klawklad Plodpai (it pushes you away from all danger), Maha-ut (it helps stop gun from shooting at you), and warning of danger. And Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse and black magic). And this amulet helps protect you from manipulators, backstabbers, and toxic people. And Baihuay, the spirits of the dead in this amulet may tell/give hints of winning lottery numbers.

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Pra Pakawamphee or Pra Pidta (Closing Eyes Buddha) was an Arhat and a disciple of Lord Buddha whose appearance was charming and gorgeously handsome, and people always mistaken him to Buddha and offered him better offerings than other monks, so Pra Pakawamphee turned himself to a fat monk and sealed his face with his 2 hands when he was in his meditation (Pra Pidta / closing eyes Buddha), to blind people around him. So the gesture of Pra Pidta became type of amulet with magical influence to blind people around you with magic charm, and your gaiety and wit would enchanted them all…

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The process of making Buddha amulet that contains human remains with sacred herb, and other holy materials is known as “Pong Prai Kumarn Maha Phood”, the Guru Monks who have ability to make this type of Holy Powder must have “Vicha Arkom” to control spirits that come with human remains and those sacred herb, NOT every monk could make Pong Prai Kumarn Maha Phood. It would bring disaster to those who made and those who wear amulets that contain this type of Holy Powder if the process of making was completely wrong! But the amulets made by Luang Phor Boonchu have proven themselves to the wearers to be one of Thailand’s Best Pra Pong Gradook Phee.

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Itthijay Holy Powder

Itthijay is a type of holy powder used for making Buddha amulet. The process of making is very complicated, accordingly to the ancient book of magic “Pali Moonkanjai” written by Thep Sarigabutr, mentioned in the Khun Chang Khun Paen, a long Thai epic poem which originated from a legend of Thai folklore and is one of the most notable works in Thai literature. The Khun Chang Khun Paen epic existed for a long time as an orally transmitted poem among Thai troubadours since the dawn of the Kingdom of Ayutthaya.

The process of making is to collect various types of holy materials, then blended with white clay and holy water, and make it like a chalk, then let it dry. After that the chalk will be used for writing Itthijay Cabalistic Writings on a small stone board, the monk who draw Itthijay Cabalistic Writings with that chalk must say a Itthijay sermon while writing it, then erase the Itthijay Cabalistic Writings in to a pedestal tray, and finally that holy powder is called Itthijay powder which can be used for making Buddha amulet.

The Power of Itthijay Powder, it is believed to have very high magical power of “Metta Maha Niyom”, it helps make people love you, be kind and be nice to you, and “Maha Sanay” (Magic Charm) it helps turn you to prince charming in the eyes of girls.

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Phee Tai Hong in Thai refers to death due to violence for example; homicide, suicide, traffic-related death. Those bones of Phee Tai Hong used for making this amulet, persons had to die on Saturday, and had their body cremations on Tuesday.

The spirit of Phee Tai Hong is believed to be trapped in the purgatory, and sunk in its own thought. Purgatory, also called The World between Worlds, is a spiritual realm that traps lost and tortured souls. Guru monks or White Robe Archan who has highest ability of magic to pull spirits of Phi Tai Hong out of the purgatory, and later enter the physical realm (human world), and ask his/her spirit to stay in the amulets. The spirit in this amulet will help its master to do anything his/her asks for, and the spirit would gain merits from helping its master, and carry its merits to the next world.

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THE ASTONISHING MIRACLE INCIDENT

A Girl got away from being raped because the rapists saw a GHOST standing next to her!

In May 1990, at Central District, Sing Buri Province, a girl reported to the police that 3 men came out of the woods beside a road while she was walking to the market in the early morning to buy stuffs for her noodle shop in the village. One of 3 men armed with a knife, grabbed her from behind and forced her into the woods. Those three men tried to rape her, pushed her down, face down in the dirt, telling her not to look at them. But those 3 men were shocked at what they saw and later ran for their life and left that girl there after one of them shouted “Ghost!”….This girl was wearing Pra Pong Gradookphee made by Luang Phor Boonchu of Wat Hua Wao. The holy ghost in the amulet saved her life!

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WARNING: This amulet contains human remains. Not suitable for people who have Spectrophobia (the fear of ghosts). People who have Spectrophobia cannot control themselves while experiencing ghosts, they might have sudden cardiac death or cause harm to themselves from temporary loss of consciousness.

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Luang Phor Boonchu, an Abbot of Wat Hua Wao, Sing Buri Province, living between BE 2480 to BE 2546, was a holy guru monk with observance of good moral character, a master of holy incantations who is reclusive, and Luang Phor Boonchu did not keep any possessions at all. Luang Phor Boonchu was highest respected by Luang Phor Pare of Wat Pikulthong whose amulets must contain Holy Powder made by Luang Phor Boonchu that Luang Phor Pare had asked Luang Phor Boonchu to make for his each and every Batch of amulets.

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DIMENSION: 2.70 cm high / 2.00 cm widest / 0.60 cm thick

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item # N6F39

Price: price upon request, pls PM and/or email us [email protected]

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[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you buy him an action figure of himself

This work, 当你买了他的手办, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

You’ve been trembling with fear and trepidation for close to ten minutes in your own office at your own company, afraid that the person sitting in your seat would criticise your proposal for lacking a single redeeming feature.

Just as you feel as though you’re about to faint from anxiety, Victor finally sets down the proposal in his hand.

“Not bad.”

A great weight rolls off your shoulders, and you lift your head. “It’s really passable?”

Faced with a sudden visit from the CEO, you were so frightened earlier that your heart was about to stop.

“Mm.”

“That’s amazing. Teacher Victor, I want red wine steak tonight~” You smile coquettishly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He tilts his head and is just about give your cheeks a pinch when his gaze sweeps over a miniature figure on the table.

“What’s this?” He grips the clay figurine’s head, lifting it up to have a look.

“Isn’t it cute? I passed by a small shop and the boss made it based on a photo I had of you.” You hurriedly take the clay figurine from him before he destroys it, placing it back on the table with much care.

"You look at it every day?”

Despite sensing that his tone sounds slightly off, you nod honestly.

VIctor’s face darkens, and he throws the figurine into his bag. His sudden change in temperament makes you afraid to even breathe.

From his wallet, he takes out a photograph - it’s a picture of the both of you.

“I’m confiscating this. Next time, just look at this photo. Take a walk after dinner and buy a photo frame along the way.”

“...” 

Is Teacher Victor jealous of himself?

[ GAVIN ]

During one of your idle online shopping adventures, you come across a service which does customisable figurines. Curious, you scan through the reviews, realising that the photos are all exquisite. After finalising the price with the customer service staff, you send over a picture of Gavin playing basketball.

A month flies past quickly. Intending it to be a surprise, you keep this from Gavin.

When the parcel finally arrives, you wield the fruit knife from the table expectantly.

“Are you cutting fruits?” Gavin immediately stands up and asks, afraid you’d injure yourself.

You shake your head. “No, I'm opening a parcel.”

Still feeling uneasy, he decides to stand next to you, only to be greeted by a figurine which looks exactly like him.

“This is...”

“It’s my handsome Officer Gavin!” 

You hand it to him slowly, as though you’re cradling a treasure. 

He accepts it carefully. “Isn’t this the time we went to play basketball with Eli and Minor in Loveland High?”

As expected of Officer Gavin - his memory is incredible. 

“That’s right! This way, I’ll have a big Gavin, and a small Gavin!” You take the clay figurine, hugging it to yourself.

“Mm.” Gavin nods in agreement. “No matter which Gavin it is, they’re all yours. But... I’d actually prefer to make a mini Gavin with you.”

[ LUCIEN ]

“Was this figurine made to look like me?” Lucien studies the miniature figure on the table.

You nod. “Yeah, a chibi Professor Lucien is really cute. It’s no wonder why the students used a chibi version of you to attract guests during the university’s anniversary.

“It is cute. But it isn’t perfect.”

Lucien shuts the acrylic box properly.

You turn the box around, looking at the figurine carefully. Even though it’s a chibi, it is an exact replica of Lucien in terms of appearance, pose and expression - especially the eyes. Even the angle of its slight smile is the same.

“I think it’s pretty perfect though.” You comment, wondering what flaws he noticed.

With a laugh, Lucien holds onto your shoulder, pushing you in front of the mirror, beckoning you to look into it, then at the figurine on the table.

“Do you notice that something is missing?” He hints, eyes crinkling.

The mirror reflects two profiles leaning against each other. On the other hand, the figurine on the table appears lonely. 

“Do you still remember where that figurine shop is?” He holds your hand. “It’d only be perfect with you.”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro!” You exclaim the moment you step into the house.

“Have you collected the parcel? What did you buy?” 

Ever since you vehemently rejected his offer to accompany you to collect the parcel, Kiro’s dejection was about to burst through the roof. Now that he sees you calling for him, he tosses his earlier unhappiness aside, running over eagerly.

“Didn’t your fan club make a lot of Kiro figurines recently? I bought one~”

Filled with anticipation, you remove the small figurine from the parcel. The moment you see it, you’re held captive by its spirited expression and bright, starry eyes. “This is really adorable!”

Kiro feels as though his position in the household is no longer stable.

“I think it looks average.” Kiro’s comment is accompanied by his menacing ‘claws’ giving the figurine’s face a poke. 

“I think looks very nice.” You swat his ‘claws’ away. “Be careful not to spoil it!”

With extreme caution, you place this newbie on the display shelf, and even pat its head gently. “Get along well with the other figurines, okay?”

Kiro is certain that his position in the household is no longer stable.

“Miss Chips, why are you treating the figurine so well QAQ You’re not only ignoring the real person standing next to you, but you’re being so tender to a figurine. I can sing for you. Can the figurine do that? I can bring you to eat good food. Can the figurine do that? In bed, I can even-”

“Stop!” You clasp a hand over his mouth before he can say something embarrassing. “Fine fine fine, you’re the best, okay?”

You shoot him a look of resignation.

Kiro nods, satisfied. “I also want Miss Chips to acknowledge that I’m the one you cherish most in your heart!”

Tickled, you rub his head. “Whatever you say, three-year-old Kiro~”

[ SHAW ]

“What’s this toy? Why is it so ugly?” Shaw looks distastefully at the object you’ve placed on the table.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Are you blind? Can’t you tell that it’s a figurine of you?”

You straighten the figurine with a serious expression on your face. Chibi Shaw is carrying a bass, his sharp little canines looking adorable beyond belief. It really exudes his aura.

“Oh please, this toy doesn’t have any of my coolness.” 

Ignoring your murderous glare, he picks up the figurine you've painstakingly fixed. Pinching its head and turning it around several times, the distaste on Shaw’s face grows even deeper.

Resisting the urge to whack him with the figurine, you snatch it back, placing it once again in its original position. “If you don’t like it, then suck it up. What matters is that I like it!”

He rubs the area that you’ve hit, his tone somewhat sincere and his expression amiable. “It’s ugly - just throw it away. Save yourself from nightmares.”

“So... you’re saying that you’re ugly?” You give him a direct reminder that the figurine was made based on his appearance, so he’s basically insulting himself.

“I didn’t say that.” Unbothered, he throws the figurine back into the box. “This toy doesn’t resemble me at all. It’s ugly as hell.”

He seals the box shut, then finds a rubber band to tie it several times, ensuring it wouldn’t fall out.

“Next time, just look at me directly if you want to. Why look at these ugly things? The real me will always be by your side.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

[icedgarlic]

atla head canons that are probably not original cause im stupid

- toph and zuko have messed up meals multiple times because the gaang keeps forgetting that both of them were pampered when they were younger and zuko still had a cook when he was banished so both of them have no idea how to make food

- mai asked zuko out cause he's an oblivious idiot to romance

- zuko gives a whole herd of ostrich-horses as an apology to that earth kingdom girl he and iroh ate roasted duck with

- sokka buys spark rocks every year for zuko's birthday

- appa hates bosco

- suki finds girls all around the world who have become orphaned because of the war and invites them to join the kyoshi warriors

- zuko still makes shitty tea but no one wants to say anything

- after finding his mom, zuko takes her to watch the ember island players again every year (he's secretly into theater)

- even after the war, zuko creates a bunch of propaganda and makes speeches about the blue spirit and how he's still at large and an enemy of the fire nation

- zuko creating chaos and drama as the blue spirit and committing petty crimes every now and then when he has down time (sometimes with toph too)

- the kyoshi warriors catch the blue spirit and then end up helping to come up with a big story about the evil blue spirit and how he subdued all of them easily (because zuko isn't creative enough to do it on his own)

- the avatar having to get involved because they somehow have caused wide-spread panic all across the fire nation

- the blue spirit some how "disappearing" and becoming a ghost story. (aang had to convince zuko to stop

- the gaang all becoming fire nation stories (Wang fire and he's bravery, the runaway, kuzon fire, the blue spirit, etc)

- aang making zuko force schools to make kids take dance lessons

- zuko working hard to break away the fire nation propaganda, then realizing how much propaganda he thought to be true and not realizing how deep it went

- aang playing airball with tenzin when he starts to learn airbending

- the gaang going to take turns to bother zuko while he's working

- when bumi dies, toph becomes interim king of omashu while they looked for another leader (the citizens seemed to like her because she caused the same amount of chaos as bumi)

- pan aang?

- zuko not realizing that sokka liked him until their 3rd date cause he's an idiot to romance

- the gaang tried to hate zuko when he wanted to teach aang firebending (katara lasted the longest) but they eventually grew to like him because he's hot and they all were somewhat attracted to him because they needed a firebending teacher and slowly trusted him

- aang believing that all life was sacred but omg moths i can't handle them those creepy little things they're so gross

- when trying to learn how to ride his dragon, zuko accidently crashed into the palace

- waterbenders living in ba sing se but rarely using bending in fear of the dai lee taking them

- some kids slowly being unable to waterbend even tho they were born with the gift, but not being able to practice so they eventually they forgot they could bend

- aang still believing airbenders survived but not telling the others because he was worried they'd think he was crazy

- aang being a bad father at first because air nomads didn't have marriage and normally didn't grow up with their parents so he had no idea how to parent

- sokka creating pai sho tiles that are more like figures to distinguish them so toph could play and being fucking amazing at it for some reason

- momo and appa really liking zuko

- appa is still afraid of fire

- president zhu li being the best leader in republic city history and being reelected twice

- toph advocating for the welfare of badger moles

- after the war, the number of benders increases because people no longer have to be in hiding anymore

- zuko still coming for tea at the jasmine dragon every week not mater how busy

- "sir you have four meetings to attend, speeches to make, and social gathe-"

" figure out how to adjust my schedule and send apologies to the hosts, i have to make it to tea time with my uncle"

- aang learning much wisdom from iroh, just like he did with the monks

- lesbian katara forcing herself to have crushes to fit in (jet, haru, etc) [still love kataang tho]

- hakoda practically adopting zuko

- toph and zuko relating to being so fucking confused because the gaang rarely explains stuff or tells them about things that happened before they joined and trying to piece things together because everytime they ask they're like "ooh it's a long story another time"

- the gaang stay in touch with all they're friends around the earth kingdom

- the fire lord's advisors not taking sokka toph and aang seriously at times like why tf are these kids here

- them slowly respecting them

- when going to visit iroh, sometimes zuko helps out when it's busy

- "hello what tea would you like to have today, we just had a new shipment of white jade come in and it's absolutely wonderful"

"firelord zuko?"

"oh no, im lee. People get us confused often. His scar is on the other side"

- zuko loving to mess with customers

- the gaang helping him further his alias

- lee becoming quite a popular person at the tea shop, and sometimes admirers come to visit every weekend at the tea shop just for him because omg how is he single

- zuko and the earth king trying to help relocate and reconnect families all over the world

- katara helping to build a memorial in the south pole for all the lost waterbenders and her mother

- aang being very supportive of katara on anything she does

Uuh idk i was just bored ig

#atla headcanons #Zuko #aang the last airbender #Sokka #Katara #Toph #suki atla

[k-project-singularity]

Facts & Trivia || Misaki Yata

The following is part of a series of posts made by me. The information listed is official canon provided by GoRa. Sources will go from the anime, to mangas and novels as well as official short stories. These are NOT fanmade headcanons. The purpose of these posts is to provide useful information for fans as well as roleplayers looking for confirmed lore for their muses. Please do not reply to argue with me about what you read here. I did not come up with this stuff myself. GoRa did. I’ll come back to edit these as I find more info.

Born on July 20, 1993 (The same year as Daichi Yamata, Tōru Hieda, Andy Dōmyōji and Saruhiko Fushimi).

Member of Homra since January/February 2009, when he was 15 years old alongside Saruhiko Fushimi.

His Homra insignia is on the left collarbone like Saruhiko Fushimi’s. Yata and Fushimi are remarkably known as the first and only case in which two clansmen received the mark on the same spot. Yata took great pride in this and will show it off often. He hates that Fushimi marred his own.

His weapons of choice are his fists and legs that Yata uses with expert street fighting moves and acrobatics. He also brandishes blunt weapons such as a baseball bat and a pole, and can control his aura to make his skateboard go faster as well as use it as a weapon itself.

He wears a smartwatch that he uses instead of a PDA. It has all the functions of a mobile phone, including camera and holographic screen as well as a flashlight. It was gifted to him by Fushimi, who personally customized it for him when they were roommates.

Yata called himself Yatagarasu to sound cooler as a Homra member. Yatagarasu is a crow spirit with three legs in Japanese folklore.

Yata is the vanguard of Homra. This means he adopts an all-out direct offense tactic, charging at the enemy on the front without any regard for his own safety. This used to make his duo with Saruhiko almost invincible as his friend would watch his back and finish off the enemy. But after they split up, this strategy doesn’t work as well and Yata often puts his own life at risk with it.

He was born with a different (and unknown) last name. His last name became “Yata” only once his mother remarried (In Japan children of remarried women get their new stepfather’s last name). Misaki was 6 years old at the time.

He hates to be called by his first name because it’s girly. The only people allowed to use it without getting yelled at are his family, Anna, and Saruhiko back when they were friends. Saruhiko still calls him Misaki out of habit, sometimes just to annoy him.

During his earliest childhood he was best friend with Rikio Kamamoto, dragging him around in all kinds of dangerous explorations. Departing from him at 6 years old, he reunites with Rikio once he joins Homra nine years later.

He always displayed a kind of tough, abusive friendship with Kamamoto, calling him names because of his weight and yelling at him when Rikio showed weakness by crying. Even now he doesn’t hesitate to fight him or physically hit him when in an argument.

Though he was born in Shizume City, he moved to live elsewhere at 6 with his mother when she remarried. When he was 12 his family moved in Chiyoda City (Saruhiko and Scepter 4’s district) and was able to go visit Shizume City again because it was nearby. At 15 years of age he returned to live in Shizume City when he moved in with Fushimi.

He attended Himuka Middle School in Chiyoda City, where he met and befriended Fushimi. Both of them dropped out at the end of their third year.

Though he was often bullied, Yata was kind of a bully himself at school, often forcing people into being his friends and scaring them with his fierce and strong personality. This caused the other kids to not really like him much and blacklist him behind his back.

Swears and yells a lot. He’s very manic and violent when he gets worked up and won’t hesitate to give a beating to fellow clansmen too if they anger him (or even if they don’t, in the case of Kamamoto).

He’s very good at baseball and is particularly proud of his straight as a pitcher.

He can use both the skateboard and surf board very skillfully. Even to the point where girls will find him cool, unbeknownst to him. He owns both boards stylized with Homra’s symbol.

His favorite subjects in school were PE and music.

However, seen how bad Yata was at playing Totsuka’s guitar, it’s safe to assume his only musical talent was singing.

He tried to learn to play the guitar from Totsuka.

He likes videogames, which he played a lot with Saruhiko in the past. He often goes to the arcade and has even taught Anna to play FPS games. This shows he might be a bit oblivious to what is appropriate for a kid when it comes to gore and violence.

For his age, he has pretty good housekeeping and cooking skills. However, Kamamoto has described Yata’s cooking as “too manly” for a girl’s birthday.

All animals seem to dislike him for some reason. This includes the horse strain Basashi and a retriever that Fujishima once picked up.

Neko, who also believes to be a cat, shows instinctive hostility towards Yata just like a real cat would.

Yata is actually upset when animals hate him and to bring it up is a sensitive subject.

This seems to be a “mirroring” trait to Fushimi, who instead dislikes animals and yet seems to attract them to himself like a magnet.

Eric Sōlt seems to dislike him (a reference to his dog-like personality), and often mocks him in English. Though Yata’s English is bad, he seems to be able to pick up the insults and gets very annoyed.

He’s very annoyed by how popular Kamamoto gets in the summer when he loses weight. Though, rather than because of jealousy, it might be because when Rikio is surrounded by girls it is impossible for Yata to approach him or hang out with him at ease.

He’s an active member of the Committee of Fattening Up Kamamoto Rikio, going great lengths with his cooking skills to make him gain weight (even to the point where his own living budget will be as low as to force Yata to eat poorly).

Yata appears to get overwhelmingly flustered in the presence of young women, to the point he looks outright terrified and avoids interacting with them. He seems to be okay with little girls or women far older than himself.

Because of his past drama with Saruhiko, Yata holds a personal and violent grudge towards Scepter 4 and anything related to them, reacting with suspicion and hostility towards any of its members.

By far the member who cares about Homra’s honor the most. Yata doesn’t tolerate that anything offensive is said about his King or clan. He also gets furious when his fellow clansmen act in dishonorable ways that could stain the Red Clan’s reputation, and will violently discipline them without any restraint if so.

In general, Yata proves to have great pride and sense of honor overall, refusing to strike at injured people, no matter how bad he hates them.

Despite his problems with Fushimi and how directly he insults him as they fight, Yata also won’t tolerate that anyone else speaks poorly of him. In general, Homra members know to avoid the topic entirely around Yata.

He’s known to not listen all too well to no one, save perhaps Mikoto-san (who however hardly ever tells him anything).

This may be another a mirror personality trait to reflect Fushimi, who instead doesn’t speak out his thoughts (“He never listens vs. He never tells”).

He won’t tolerate being bossed around by any guy save the Homra founders. Yata dislikes when people settle things on their own. Ironically, he is guilty of this fault himself as he often takes decisions and acts without waiting.

Despite his fiery temper, Yata is very nurturing and won’t hesitate to show concern and care for those he’s very close to. Though he may be aggressive about it, especially with Saruhiko.

Yata is tormented by not knowing the exact reasons behind Saruhiko’s betrayal. He’ll ask him several times, only to get mocked as a result.

When he and Saruhiko start arguing, Yata can get tunnel vision and forget about everything else around him, including bullets and grenades.

Though he always swears he’ll beat Saruhiko to death, deep inside Yata has never given up on getting his friend back, and always looks with hope for signs from Saruhiko that they can be comrades again. Because of this he gets even more hurt every time Saruhiko reiterates his betrayal and spite towards Homra.

Yata can be a bit of a crybaby and tear up more easily than most guys.

He’s terrified of ghosts. When he hears about ghost stories or thinks one may be close, Yata gets extremely jittery and manic. However, he strongly denies his fears and will react with nervous violence if accused of this.

#k project #lore #misaki yata

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

How about an FNF cast meet OHSHC cast headcannons? I'm curious to more interactions between these two franchise-

Oooooo yeah I got ideas!

........

Lemon Demon, Luis, and Monica terrify the shit out of everyone (even though the parents try being polite).

Nekozawa becomes interested in the trio’s demonic backgrounds, even dragging a confused Lemon into his club room to ask him questions.

Pico sees the Hitachiin twins and is like “did I smoke so much that it’s making me see double or...?” But sure enough, they’re two different people despite looking alike.

Skid and Pump end up finding the stash of sweets within music room #3, but before they indulge Honey comes along...

And they become best friends! Honey shows them pictures of himself dressed as a “wolfman” (from the Halloween episode). They absolutely love it and praise his spookiness.

Mori doesn’t say much but they think he’s cool too.

Tamaki tries to impress Cherry but Keith starts angrily beeping. And when she translates what her bf is saying, it immediately puts Tamaki in the corner of shame.

Haruhi’s just annoyed bc “Tamaki-senpai you can’t just flirt with someone who’s obviously taken-”

Senpai’s kinda shocked to be in an environment similar to the one from his dating sim. He manages to cheer up Tamaki tho and starts asking him for advice on impressing ladies.

But when he’s rejected by Cherry yet again he ends up sulking in the corner, too.

Since Kyoya has noticed that all of these “strangers” share exceptional singing skills, he wonders if they could lend their talents and teach the hosts how to sing (in hopes of attracting customers who may have admiration towards singers).

Senpai’s dead-set on staying in this universe forever but (somehow) accidentally unleashes his Spirit form and terrorizes everyone in the club.

That prompts Luis and Monica to find a way back to their own world, and the FNF cast soon departs once they do so.

#clanask #anonymous #fnf #ohshc #headcanons