Hey everyone! Perhaps not the update you were waiting for, but in the mean time I bring you something to tide you over!
Here is the prompt list for this fandom's corner of Inktober/Drawtober fun! While this is based on a traditionally drawing-focused event, if you are a writer you are more than welcome to participate if you like!
How it works:
The broadest version is, using the prompt, draw/write something based on it for each day. However, that's not feasible for many people so the alternative way it works is that every week, I'll do a round-up reblog-fest of everything people made that week and tagged me in/used the tag "dghdatober2025" for. If you like, you can do 1 or as many of the prompts all at once for that week, and it would be awesome if you say which you used in your work!
You can participate as much or as little as you feel like! I just wanted the fandom to have a list and I hadn't heard of anyone making one. Since tomorrow is the first day, if you see this please reblog it so as many people as possible hear about it!
As always, if you have any questions feel free to DM/ask in the notes and I'll do my best to clarify, but this works basically how any ink/drawtober list works :)
"He's coming in," Panto says, a little too loudly, and Dirk shushes him frantically as the bell on the door handle jingles and a blast of cold October air rushes in. Todd, the busker from across the plaza, walks in, guitar slung over one shoulder and eyes fixed on his phone screen. Panto shoves Dirk behind the register and vanishes into the back room.
"You're back!" Dirk exclaims, and then stammers, "I mean, you're here! No, I mean – hi!" He flushes and stops trying to talk, and Todd looks up from his phone and huffs a tired laugh, shoves his hands deep in his jacket pockets.
"Hi," he says. His beard is a little bit longer than usual, and his lips are visibly chapped. He looks – he looks cold. Tired.
"The regular?" Dirk asks, hands already grabbing a hot cup and turning to the espresso machine
Todd stammers "um," and shakes his head, looks a bit abashed. Dirk pauses and tilts his head to the side. Todd looks at his feet. "Um," he says again, and pulls one hand back out of his pocket, clutching a fistful of change. "Not a lot of people out today. I don't think I have enough for a latte." He pokes through the change in his hand, and grimaces up at Dirk. "Can I get, uh – a small black coffee?"
"Of course," Dirk says, turning to the coffee pot. "You know, a small black coffee is the most common order we get here. Every third person that walks in asks for a small black coffee. Sometimes, I see someone walk in and I think to myself, 'Dirk, this person is going to order an oat milk latte, or a hazelnut mocha, or some lovely chai,' and then boom! I'm wrong! Small black coffee." He smiles admiringly at Todd, passing over the cup. "You're making a popular choice. A good choice."
Todd puts the cup down on the counter and picks through the coins in his hand, and hands Dirk $1.60 in dimes and nickels, and then drops the paltry few remaining coins in the tip jar. Dirk tries to give Todd a reassuring look, but Todd avoids his gaze, just mutters, "thanks" and takes his coffee to the table farthest from the door.
Dirk sighs and Panto says in his ear, "that was well done of you, Dirk."
Dirk yells, and whips around to glare at his manager. "Panto!" he hisses. "You can't just… sneak up on me like that! What if I'd been holding something hot?"
"You weren't," Panto says simply, and shrugs his stupidly broad shoulders. Dirk glares up at him and mutters under his breath while he turns away and wipes down the counters and the fridges. When he peeks up at Todd, he finds the smaller man hunched into his chair, guitar case leaning up against the wall, hands wrapped around the cup of coffee. He's discarded the cardboard sleeve, and seems to be trying to soak up all of the heat in the cup of coffee, and Dirk's heart gives a pang of concern. It really is cold outside, and Todd plays his guitar for hours at a time, huddled into a doorway near the entrance to the plaza. He tries to keep a watchful eye on the back table, but after a long rush of customers comes through, Todd is gone, and strains of guitar music trickle in each time the door opens.
––––––––––––
The next time Todd comes in, the coffee shop is busy – it's just after the Saturday morning shopping rush, and the line is long, the tables are full, and there's a whole huddle of customers waiting for their drinks. Dirk and Panto are both making drinks and taking orders in turns, and Mona is bringing drinks and food out to tables. Todd waits in the line until he gets up front, and Dirk dallies his way through making a simple hot tea to make sure that he's the one at the register when Todd gets up front.
"Hello!" Dirk says brightly, trying to look like a not-idiotic human being, and is rewarded with a quick at the corner of Todd's mouth. His heart skips a beat.
"Hi," Todd says, hitching his guitar higher on one shoulder. "Busy, uh, busy day, huh?"
"It is," Dirk agrees, nodding.
There's a pause that's just a bit too long, and then Todd blinks and realizes that he's standing in front of a line of un-caffeinated customers, and hasn't ordered yet. "Almond spice late," he says, all in a rush, and plunges his hand into his pocket, pulls out a crumpled five.
Dirk quirks an eyebrow, impressed, and trades Todd the five for his change. "Someone must have really liked your playing," he says admiringly, tucking the bill in the cash register. Todd looks like he's going to try and stammer out some kind of response, but Panto hip-checks Dirk away from the register, beckons forward the next customer, and Dirk staggers over to the espresso machine. He knows his face is beet red, but Todd's is also flushed, so probably he doesn't look like a complete idiot, right?
His hands know the motions, and he whips together Todd's usual drink. When it's finished, he darts a furtive glance up, making sure Panto and Todd both aren't looking directly at him, and pours a foam heart onto the top of the latte, before clicking a plastic lid on top. There, but never to be seen.
Dirk places the drink on the counter, allows his voice to warm when he calls out, "Todd, almond spice latte!" and gestures towards the cup before hurrying back to the register. He just catches the look of enjoyment on Todd's face as he inhales the bit of steam escaping from the lid, and then another customer is ordering.
––––––––––––
It's another cold day and when Todd walks in, he looks miserable.
There's no line, and Panto is chatting with his husband at one of the tables near the front, ready to hop up if he's needed, but the café is near to empty. Todd is wearing what looks like a collared shirt and two sweaters, and has a threadbare scarf tucked roughly around his neck. He looks sweet, all bundled up with a red nose and ears, but he's clearly drained and cold.
"Hi Todd," Dirk says sunnily, and gets a weary nod in return. Poor boy.
"Can I just get, uh –" Todd looks into his palm, jiggles his hand to get a better view of the coins, and presses his lips together in disappointment. "Just a small black coffee. Um, please." He hands over exact change, and drops a single nickel in the tip jar. The flush on his face spreads, and not from being cold, and he steps away from the counter with his eyes fixed firmly on his shoes. Dirk tries to smile at him, but Todd doesn't look back up, and makes his way quickly to what's become his usual table – furthest from the door and directly under a heating vent. He leans his guitar up against the wall and crams his hands in between his thighs, hunches his shoulders against everything.
Dirk's eyebrows snap together in disappointment. It's terribly cold outside, and he's heard Todd's guitar music drift into the café every time a customer has walked in, but he doesn't seem to have gotten enough money for his favorite drink. Which is a bit odd, to be honest – when Dirk was able to spy him through the front windows, it seemed like some people were dropping bills into his coffee tin – but Dirk isn't here to question what Todd does with his money.
He sneaks one more look at Todd – still looking miserable and cold – and then Dirk gets An Idea. Carefully, slowly, making sure Todd doesn't see, Dirk slips his hand into the top jar and pulls out another two dollars, then slides them into the register. He clicks the drawer shut, just as sneakily, and then looks up to find Panto and Silas staring at him.
"What?" Dirk mouths, trying not to look too sheepish.
"For your crush?" Panto asks, voice low, but Dirk and Silas both shush him anyway. Dirk is glad to have Silas on his side.
Dirk stomps over to their table and makes a face. "Yes," he hisses snippily. "And I took it from my tip money, so don't say anything."
Panto holds his hands up in defense. "I was not saying anything. Merely that this man, Todd, comes in here often enough that I do not mind if you comp him a drink, and keep your tips."
"Oh," Dirk says, deflating. "Erm. Thank you." He shoots both men an awkward, grateful look, and then hurries back behind the counter to make Todd's drink. It's an easy one, and he's standing at Todd's elbow within two minutes, paper hot cup held carefully by the sleeve. "Todd," he says quietly, and Todd jerks to attention, looks up at Dirk with a startled expression.
"Oh," Todd says. "I was expecting you to, like, call my name from the counter."
"No such luck," Dirk teases, setting down the cup in front of Todd, and whisks back to the counter before Todd can respond with anything but a stammered, "um."
He keeps a careful eye on Todd through his usual routine of pulling off the cardboard sleeve and wrapping his hands around the searing cup, and the tension in Todd's back fades a bit at a time as the heat soaks into his skin. Dirk perks up, too, pleased that Todd is warming up, and excited for the moment when Todd realizes that his drink isn't what he'd expected.
It takes a little while – Todd is warming his hands and letting the drink cool down to drinkable temperatures – but when he does, the payoff is excellent. He raises the cup to his lips and takes a deep breath of the steam, and his eyebrows quick in confusion. He takes another breath in, through his nose, then shoots Dirk a look of utter confusion. Dirk is, of course, carefully looking not at Todd, but still peeking at him from the corner of his eye, and has to tamp down on the bubble of glee in his chest. When Todd takes a sip of the almond spice latte, though, and his eyes widen, Dirk can't help flapping his hands in joy. Subtly. Below the counter.
Todd stands up from his table and carries the drink over to the counter, where he gently wraps his knuckles.
"Oh!" Dirk says, spinning around. "I didn't see you there! How can I help you?"
"Dirk," Todd says, the corner of his mouth twitching. "This isn't a black coffee."
"Oh?" Dirk says again, feigning a look of great surprise. "My mistake! I must have made you the wrong drink, entirely by accident."
"By accident, hun?" Todd takes another sip of his latte, and now his eyebrows are quirked.
"Of course!" Dirk promises. "I would never make a customer the wrong beverage on purpose! That would be a violation of the Code of Baristas."
"Doesn't exist," Panto calls from the table nearby, and Dirk shoots him a look of utter scorn.
"Does too," he insists. "Just because you're a terrible barista who never signed the Code doesn't mean it doesn't exist." He turns back to Todd and smiles sweetly. "So. Please forgive my terrible accident. I hope you don't mind what you ended up with too much."
"I don't mind it too much," Todd assures him, and now he's leaned up against the counter, taking another sip. "Fun fact, this is actually my favorite drink, you accidentally made me."
"Oh, did I? How marvelously fortuitous!"
"Mmhm. A real neat coincidence."
"I don't believe in coincidences," Dirk says. He picks up a rag just to have something to do with his hands and starts wiping down the counter. "Everything that happens is connected to everything else that happens. Nothing occurs in a vacuum."
"So this accidental latte happened for a reason, huh? Wonder what that reason was." Todd is fully smiling now, like he's got Dirk trapped, and Dirk's heart gives a traitorous thump.
"O-oh," Dirk says, and now he's the one who's flushed. He ducks his head and wipes the same spot next to the register over and over.
Todd reaches his hand out, the one that isn't holding the latte, and touches two fingers to the back of Dirk's hand. Dirk freezes. "Thank you, Dirk," he says softly. His touch lingers long enough that Dirk looks back up at him, through his lashes, and sees a glint in Todd's eye.
"You're, erm – you're welcome," Dirk says, and his voice is just a bit strangled. Todd pulls his hand back and tilts his chin up, drains the latte in a few deep swallows. Dirk watches his throat move, and he knows his eyes are wide but can't do anything about it. When he's finished, Todd tosses the cup a few feet into the trash can by the counter.
"I have to get back outside now," Todd says, with no small amount of regret. "But thank you, again, for that non-coincidental accident."
"Certainly," Dirk replies promptly, and watches Todd gather his guitar and fluff up his scarf, then venture back out into the cold.
"That was very well done," Silas says to Dirk, fond and kind. Dirk just buries his face in the rag he's holding and groans wordlessly.
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Link to:
day one, Farah - Youth
day two, Farah - Dance
day three, Farah - Gore
day four, Farah - GNC fashion
day five, Farah - AU
day six, Farah - Family (to be written)
day seven, Farah - Pride (to be written)
day eight, Todd - Youth (to be written)
day nine, Todd - Dance (to be written)
day ten, Todd - Gore
day eleven, Todd - GNC Fashion
day twelve, Todd - AU
day thirteen, Todd - Family
day fourteen, Todd - Pride (to be written)
day fifteen, Dirk - Youth
day sixteen, Dirk - Dance
day seventeen, Dirk - Gore (to be written)
day eighteen, Dirk - GNC fashion (to be written)
