#i really like this one and god the amount of DETAIL with super thin lines u can do without having to change the pen size??? bc u just touch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saebyeog-i · 4 years

Text

bitter brews (i) | syh

“Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.””

genre | not quite a coffeeshop!au, (mild)slow burn, this thought about being an adversaries to lovers fic for six minutes

rating/warnings | a stupid amount of exposition about coffee plants, catch me throwing in the random recipes that have been my go-to for cooking during quarantine, is this angsty?, discussions of mental health issues {see tags for details}, overall mature content/themes {foul language, alcohol consumption, references & discussion of masturbation, awkward boners, future smut}, some soft moments, and some good ol’ tooth rotting waxing poetic nonsense fluff. Don’t expect too much out of this I just got tired of editing this part so I’m finally posting it.

word count | 19.6k (I meant for this to be a super long one-shot but it’s turning into a story in parts for the sake of ratings w h o o p s)

pairing | Johnny Seo x fem reader

writing playlist | Egotistic - Mamamoo, Black Swan - BTS, Sober - HYO, I Blame On You - Taeyeon, Heartbeat - BTS, Close to Me (Red Velvet Remix) - Ellie Goulding feat. Red Velvet

—

“So, what you mean to say is… you’re not coming? Like, at all?”

The bright yellow plastic of the rotary phone was slightly cool against your overheating skin, which was constantly veiled in a thin layer of sweat whenever you stayed on the farm property instead of the main house on the opposite side of the island. It was the first week of May, which meant it was already humid again. If it wasn’t the time for the daily afternoon rain showers, it might as well have felt like it was raining with how saturated the air was.

“I’m sorry, Bean, I just can’t get on a plane right now. I thought it would be fine it we stretched out the time between flights, but all my doctors are saying I need to just stay here between now and the birth, so…”

Your sister’s voice trailed off and you had to wait for a moment to be sure it wasn’t the poor reception for the phone call running across the four thousand miles that separated you— the four thousand miles that would continue to separate you for the rest of the summer.

You exhaled and twirled the aged spiral phone cord that could barely hold its shape around your index finger, staring at the concrete floor and scrunching your toes. “Well, I’m already here, obviously… do you… you want me to stay here then? Take care of stuff?” You asked hesitantly, already having a feeling of what the answer would be.

A crackly sigh of relief came through the other line. “Little Bean, you are the best, Yunho was worried about asking you to stay and man the farm for the summer harvest but I knew you would just offer! You’re the best like that, you know?” You gritted your teeth and forced a smile through, even though no one was there to witness it. “Okay, so we’ll ship out the supplies in the next few days. Yunho is gonna email you a list of delivery dates of materials for the projects he had planned for the summer and a few contractor contacts…”

Her voice warbled on, and you could only nod your head and vocalize an ‘mhmm’ every so often, listening to her rattle off instructions and information that you knew would be sent in an email too. You’d been looking forward to spending the summer with her— you hadn’t gotten a proper chance to visit for more than a weekend since she and Yunho had gotten married about two years ago— but it turned out this wouldn’t be it. You couldn’t blame her though; she was approaching the third trimester of her pregnancy. You’d do anything for her, even this, even isolating yourself on a farm for four months. Alone.

Not exactly the leave of absence you’d been hoping for from work, but it would have to do.

✧ ✧ ✧

This was supposed to be a vacation. A break. Some much needed time off, away from your job, your career, and your “normal” life. You told yourself over and over again you were looking forward to it. And besides, it would all be worth it, because of all the time you’d get to spend with your sister after so long.

And then she had to betray you by going and getting fucking knocked up, with twins no less.

Fucking happily married couples with their god damn healthy ass sex lives and family planning and wanting to raise children. What the fuck was that all about?

It had been so long since your last vacation. Years, in fact. So long, you had over two months of paid time off accrued at work, and back at New Years you’d made the preliminary plans to spend a month on the farm in Hawaii with her, bonding and just relaxing. Sure, it would require some manual labor for the business here and there, but mostly just to rest.

What a joke that turned out to be.

The farm in Hawaii. You know, the coffee farm your brother in law bought four years ago on a dare from your sister, because he said he could totally pull it off as a side hustle, and she said he wouldn’t be able to? Yeah, that one. Fast forward to today and the side hustle became a full fledged passion that roped in a good amount of the family into the business. Siblings, cousins, parents, all involved in different aspects of package design, social media marketing, distribution and wholesale— everyone except you, who stuck with your soul sucking job in advertising, the same industry your brother in law had since left behind.

The farm and roasting wasn’t an overnight success by any means, but in the last year the brand had really taken off in the craft coffee scene. After all, Kona coffee was well sought after, and one could only claim the name ‘Kona’ if it was grown on the same two thousand or so acres of land on Hawaii’s big island. You know, the same area of land you were living on for the remainder of the summer?

Right. The whole summer.

It was just supposed to be the month of May. And then it turned into May and some of June, when you’d asked your sister to make more concrete plans, and she kept brushing it off. And then the week before you actually got off the plane, you hadn’t booked the return ticket, because you were still waiting for her answer. And then the phone call, and now, this was… indefinite? No, that was being too dramatic; if anything, it would be up through the birth. Based on the number of projects Yunho had planned for the farm, through the remainder of the summer was how long everything would take. Just you and a little over five acres of land and the summer heat. The thought of an extended isolation had your breath catching in your throat, but the last thing you wanted to do was complain or call for help. Stubborn and proud, you wouldn’t have made the offer to stay if you didn’t mean it, if you didn’t think you could handle it. There was no way you were backing out now.

When Yunho had first bought the farm, it had been a rough first few years of refining the coffee plants that had been on the land and uncared for for a number of years, but the last two summers had provided a steady increase in the harvest yield. There was a small farmhouse on the property, with two small bedrooms, a shower, and a small kitchen and living area. A few miles down the coast was the nicer, newer condo that the business had bought, a multi-bedroom unit with some better amenities for when more of your family wanted to visit. It felt weird spending time there— it was too nice, too clean, and quite frankly you had enough to keep yourself busy with on the farm property, you’d rather not have to spend time driving back and forth every day. So you opted to spend most of your nights sleeping here, even though it meant only ceiling fans and no air conditioning.

The farmhouse had very shitty, very limited wifi and a grand total of three electrical outlets outside of what was used to power the oven and refrigerator. One of those outlets was, of course, dedicated to an espresso machine on the kitchen counter, which you had gotten acquainted with over the last two weeks. It was an older model and a little temperamental (the one at the condo was much nicer), but it was still from a decent manufacturer, and you could still use it to pulled a decent shot.

Most of the time you worked in silence, and most of the time you were never too aware of how much time had passed, other than when the sun went down and it was suddenly dark out. You weren’t always this absent minded, you swore— maybe it was a byproduct of being alone for so long—

A loud, high pitched whine filled your ears, followed by some scratching at the door that lead to the lanai outside. You sighed, standing up from the kitchen table and walking over to face the monster that had made it.

“What? What do you want now?”

Staring back at you from the the other side of the screen door was what you’d affectionally referred to as The Thirty-Three Pound Menace— the medium sized stray dog that your brother-in-law so conveniently forgot to mention had been living on the farm for the last few months. It had been waiting outside the farmhouse when you first arrived, and you’d learned from the neighbors that Yunho had taken a liking to the stray and had arranged for them to feed it in his absence. But now that you were here, taking care of the dog was added to your list of daily chores. It seemed to not want to leave the farm property unless actively accompanied by you, with the assurance that you’d be bringing it back with you.

With a roll of your eyes you hip checked the door open just enough to let the dog inside the house. It circled you several times, sniffing at your knees before sitting and panting, staring up at you expectantly. In the two weeks you’d been here, the majority of your conversations were between you and this, a being that couldn’t talk back. Maybe you liked it that way. “What, dinner? Fine, fine,” you grumbled, shuffling to the cabinet and pulling out a can of wet food.

Your meals had consisted of relatively simple dishes, but today you were cranky at the confirmation that your summer was not going to go as planned. Tonight’s dinner featured a bowl of cereal and a coffee mug full of cold white wine.

You ate in silence. You drank in silence. The only noise came from the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, and the occasional sound of the dog, cleaning its paws and laying by your feet protectively. Why it seemed so determined to win over your affection, you had no idea.

After sitting in silence with only your thoughts and the now sleeping dog to keep you company for what felt like hours and downing a second mug full of wine, you found yourself letting out a loud yell, startling the dog and waking it. In a fury, you pulled out the laptop you had for the sole purpose of checking once a day for emails from Yunho and connected it to the shitty, sub-par wifi with just enough patience to navigate to an airline’s website and search flights back to the states. You were looking for the cheapest, most reasonable one you could find. After all of five minutes of research and a quick round on mental math, you clicked on a date and hit the ‘book now’ button before you could second guess yourself, slamming the computer shut once the payment went through and shoving it away from you across the table.

“September 10th,” you grumbled out loud for only you and the dog to hear. Standing from the chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, you crossed the room and stopped in front of the wall calendar your sister had put up the last time she’d visited the farm just after New Years. You lifted a few pages and flipped forward to the month of September. Red marker in hand, you found the date and circled it rather aggressively, several times over. You looked down at the dog, watching you patiently with its head tilted. “You got that? I’m getting off this fucking island on September 10th.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The day your life fell apart came twelve days later just before nine in the morning.

Mondays were the delivery day, that’s what Yunho had laid out in his instructional emails to you. Your only source of personal transportation was an older jeep, one you didn’t enjoy driving, given that it had no top and needed some mechanical work done. So you’d made arrangements and had your groceries delivered on Monday mornings, buying mostly direct from another farm on the other side of the island, and they were always kind enough to act as the courier for whatever additional miscellaneous supplies you’d request, regardless of where they’d have to go to procure them.

There was a winding driveway that lead up to the house from the main road, and a larger, wider drive up a less steep hillside for larger vehicles for delivery. You were fully expecting the truck that lumbered up the delivery road and came to a stop just outside the barn which housed the massive coffee roaster and stored most of the processed green beans from harvest. Even though it had only been three weeks, there was a routine that had slowly been settling into place: the sound of the truck coming to a stop riled up the dog, the dog came running from wherever and started barking, you’d get your groceries and any other assorted items, the dog would get a treat because your delivery boy had a soft spot for the creature, and you’d pay for your goods. “Hey Jin,” you called out over the barking from the front of the barn, hands currently full with a sack of processed coffee beans you’d hoisted over your shoulder. “You can just leave the groceries on the porch, I’ll put them inside in a few. Did you manage to get me the bags of fertilizer and some wood stakes?” A loud thud sounded as you dropped the bag to its resting place on the concrete floor.

“I mean, I can go put these inside if that’s easier. And yeah, there’s ten bags to get us started, we can have more delivered next week if you still need ‘em.”

You whipped around to face whoever had just spoken, because that voice was most certainly not Jin.

He was tall like Jin, had wide shoulders like Jin, and his hair was kept just a bit long and looked ridiculously shiny and soft and like you could run your fingers through it like Jin’s. It was a lighter brown with some honeyed highlights running through it, compared to the dark brown almost black of Jin’s. You tensed, seeing him carrying a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread and the leafy green tops of carrots sticking out the top. He wasn’t looking at you, rather, he was far too occupied with bending down slightly and scratching behind the ear of the dog who was currently whining and wagging its tail at his feet. Some guard dog it was.

Without a second thought, you reached for the first sharp object you could find, which happened to be the box cutter you used to cut open the burlap bags the beans came back from the processing plant in. “You’re not Jin,” you said tersely, holding the utility knife by your hip defensively.

“Chill out killer, he’s harmless,” a more familiar voice called. Seokjin, your regular delivery driver whose family owned the farm you bought directly from, came into view carrying another two bags of produce and a small pile of envelopes. “Picked up your mail on my way up, the box was practically overflowing. Do you ever check that thing?” You’d first met Jin two years ago when you’d come to visit your sister and Yunho for a long weekend. He’d become a good friend of Yunho’s and was one of the people who would take turns feeding the dog when no one else was here.

Ignoring the unknown man, you relaxed your shoulders slightly and placed the knife down on the table behind you. “Thanks,” you grumbled, taking the small pile of letters from him. Admittedly, you hadn’t checked the mailbox since the day after you’d arrived on the farm, mostly out of sloth and spite. You sifted through the letters— mostly junk mail, with a few bills and notices relating to the business. You put those in front so you could look through them later, when you’d finished the physical work for the day. You tore one envelope open in particular when you noticed it was addressed directly to you and had your sister and Yunho’s Illinois address in the upper corner. It was a letter postmarked from two weeks ago, which struck you as odd, because what the hell would he bother writing in a letter that he couldn’t just send you in an email or a text or a phone call? You started reading aloud softly to yourself.

“‘My Dearest Bean… First of all I want to apologize for the change in plans, but with your sister’s condition her doctors just don’t recommend her traveling,’ God, he’s so dramatic she’s not terminally ill she’s just pregnant. Blah blah blah, I don’t care, you’re full of absolute shite, Yunho,” you began skimming through his lengthy pre amble, looking for the purpose behind the note. Without reading the middle you flipped the stationary paper over to see his handwriting covered the entire back of the page, too. “God, he’s so long winded. Oh, here we go, the very end— ‘I promise we’ll make it up to you, thank you for running the farm and taking care of Puppy, please be nice to Johnny and treat him well, he seems like a good kid.” You stared at the words written on the paper and looked up at Jin. “Who the fuck is Johnny?”

The man next to him cleared his throat and held his hand up. “Johnny! I’m uh, that’s me. You must be _____— I’ve heard a lot about you from Yunho! I’m Johnny Seo, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a smile, reaching a hand out.

You eyed it but made no move to reciprocate the action. “Cool. You know Yunho. Lots of people know Yunho, he’s a huge fucking flirt, social butterfly of the century, the man never shuts up. Why should I be nice to you?”

He shifted on his feet and his outstretched hand retreated. “Oh. Uh. I’m uh, here for the summer,” he explained, sounding almost confused. “Didn’t— didn’t Yunho tell you?”

Your eyes bugged out and you looked over to Jin. “Jin who the fuck is this and why is he on my farm?” You whispered.

Your friend laughed. “You read the end of Yunho’s letter. I’m sure if you read the whole thing it would explain more. This is Johnny, and he’s here for the summer. He’s gonna help you out! I know the list of all the projects you need to finish this summer is lengthy, and plus look at the guy, he’s jacked! You could use the muscle for manual labor. More work for him, less for you, right? And look, the poor dog you refuse to give a name to even likes him!” Jin gestured comically at Johnny. You looked over, sizing him up some— Jin wasn’t wrong. The stranger was muscular on top of being tall, and under the capped sleeves of his tee shirt you saw his arms that looked the size of your head. The dog was still circling him, sniffing and begging for attention.

Johnny tried smiling again. “Yunho mentioned there was a lot of construction type work to do. I uh, had nothing else planned so he said I could stay on the farm for the summer and work in exchange for food and a place to sleep. I take it he uh, didn’t run that by you first, did he?”

Your grip on the papers in hand tightened and you felt your jaw tense involuntarily. “No, he managed to not mention that once to me. How did you even get here?” You hissed back.

“I picked him up at the airport this morning,” Jin answered calmly, “Yunho gave me a buzz a few days ago to ask if I could bring him here with this week’s groceries.”

“So he managed to arrange for him to get on a plane and secure transportation to the farm but couldn’t be bothered to call me and let me know?”

Jin only laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I’m pretty sure he knows you well enough by now to know that this would have been your reaction whatever way he told you.” Despite the kinship you’d felt growing between the two of you, Jin was Yunho’s friend first, and it only made sense that his allegiance would be to him first. Of course he’d side with Yunho on this matter. “And yes, like Johnny said I did bring a bundle of plant stakes and ten bags of fertilizer— they’re in the back of the truck bed.”

“Oh, I could get those—” Johnny started, moving to step towards the truck.

You could barely think straight. First they bailed on you unexpectedly to spend the summer on the farm alone. That was fine— you’d gotten that through your head, and had come to terms with that. But suddenly springing a plus one on you, without your consent? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Yeah. Don’t need help. Thanks,” you spat, grabbing the bags of groceries from him and brushing past, stomping your way back to the farmhouse.

Johnny stood frozen for a moment before stammering, looking from Jin to your retreating figure and back again. “I should— I should talk to her, right? Or do I—”

“Whoa, don’t think too hard there handsome, I can smell wood burning. Don’t stress about it. She’s just a little… touchy. Let me talk to her,” Jin patted Johnny on the back before heading up the path to the farmhouse after you.

You’d stormed into the house and slammed the groceries down on the counter and let out a screech of rage before picking up the receiver of the yellow rotary phone and dialing. Tapping you foot incessantly, you waited as it rang.

“He-llo~?” The singsong voice that came through the other end was far too amused with itself, more so than usual, and that’s how you knew he knew why you were calling.

“Jung Yunho you better be thankful you knocked up my sister because if it weren’t for the babies in her womb I would fly myself across the Pacific and flay you alive,” you seethed through gritted teeth.

In true unbothered fashion, your brother in law only laughed at your threat. “Ah, so I take it your employee has arrived safely! I’ll have to thank Seokjin for getting him from the airport. Can you give the Kims a pound of the special medium roast as a token of my gratitude?”

“No!” You yelled back, “No! I will not! I’m already beyond frustrated that I’m on this island alone for the entire summer, I’m doing this as a favor because we’re family! I’m not your slave, Yunho! Where was my warning, huh? When were you going to ask if I was okay with you sending some stranger to live in the same house as me, huh?!”

The familiar ache in your chest started to swell, and breathing became difficult. ‘Not now,’ you thought bitterly, ‘Please not right now-’

You curled your free hand into a fist and pressed your nails into your palm, hard, grounding yourself. Yunho’s voice on the phone blurred out and by the time his words started making sense again, you’d already missed what he’d been saying. “I’m not saying you have to like the kid, just show him some hospitality, yeah? You just said it yourself, you didn’t want to be alone this summer, and now you won’t be. I know you’re a good cook so that’s why I told him food would be included. Don’t worry, I’ve already sent some pre-payments to the Kims, so your grocery orders are doubled for the rest of the summer.” His voice went quiet for a second. You rubbed at your temple in frustration, squinting your eyes shut and forcing the mere thought of tears deep back into the recesses of your brain. “Bean? You still there?”

“Don’t get all pretend concerned, Yunho. And stop using my childhood nickname any time you want something from me.” Your voice was quieter now, the intensity of your emotions subsiding, but the betrayal you felt still running strong. “Fine. I’ll tolerate him. But there better be a case of wine in next week’s groceries to make this bearable.”

“Done and done! You’re gonna love him Bean, he’s really great. He’ll be good company.” The continued use of your childhood nickname from anyone other than your sister always gave you pause.

“I said tolerate not befriend. There’s a difference,” you clarified quickly. A knock at the door startled you, and you jumped and looked to see Jin standing by the front door, a roll of wooden stakes under his arm. You rolled your eyes and waved your arm to shoo him away, pointing at the phone pressed to your ear. “Look, Yunho, I don’t know what you’re hoping to see me get out of this, but if he drives me insane I can’t promise that he’ll walk away from this unscathed.”

His laugh echoed through the receiver and reverberated against your skin. “I just think it would do you some good to have some human interaction, that’s all. Your sister too. She says hi, by the way,” he added softly, “And so do the little ones.”

You scoffed. Yunho always brought up your sister as a way of diffusing your temper. He knew it would always work. “They’re still in embryonic fluid, they can’t talk and they certainly don’t have cognitive function.” Sometimes you wondered if even Yunho had that with the wild ideas that went through his mind.

“Ever the romantic, you are. You know, soon they’ll be able to think! And they’ll be thinking of their favorite auntie, and how much they can’t wait to meet her! So she can’t be arrested for murder between now and when they’re born, because babies can’t go to prison!”

“I’m telling your sister you said that,” you challenged. With an exhale, you did your best to let go of the frustration and tension inside and politely ended the phone call. You were trying to clear your head and collect yourself before heading back outside when you heard a yell that sounded all too much like Jin’s voice.

“What fresh hell—” you started, shuffling back outside in the direction of the commotion where you saw Jin, somewhat struggling under the weight of two bags of fertilizer, and Johnny, now with a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, easily hoisting a stack of four bags without slouching.

Your eyebrow ticked up upon the realization that it was almost seventy pounds that he was slinging around like it was nothing. “Anywhere specific you want these?” He asked innocently, looking up at where you stood on the lanai just outside the door. You almost cursed him out when he blinked at you twice.

You pointed your left arm down the hill, the opposite direction of the way to the barn. “Shed. Next to the vegetable garden.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “And lose the hat. Or at least don’t wear it backwards. Makes you look like an ass.”

Johnny’s mouth hung open for a moment before he hummed and winked. “You got it, Boss! Come on handsome, if you can carry those good looks you can carry some dirt,” he called back to Jin, who was currently grumbling about how manual labor wasn’t a part of his delivery arrangement.

The hairs on your arm stood up on edge as you watched Johnny laugh deeply as he ambled his way in the direction you’d pointed. The thirty three pound menace next to you whined and wagged its tail, panting as it went from watching you to watching Johnny’s retreating figure. You looked down and made eye contact. “If I survive this, I’m going to kill Yunho.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There was no case of wine in the grocery deliveries the following week. The reasoning Yunho gave was that per Jin’s investigation, the liquor stores were all out of your favorite wine, so there was no point in sending you a sub par alternative. It was absolute crap, but you had better things to do than chew out your brother in law over the phone. Took way more energy than it was worth.

So far, Johnny was making good on his word and earning his keep. At first, you’d tried avoiding him as much as possible, intentionally waking up hours ahead of him and starting your day when the sun rose. You never made much noise in the mornings, the loudest thing you did was make coffee, and lately you’d opted for a pour over versus pulling shots of espresso. You weren’t personally one for breakfast, choosing just coffee and maybe a piece of fruit instead. This morning you felt a little hungrier than usual, so you thought you’d get yourself a bowl of cereal. Peering into your pantry, you saw that on the shelf where there had been a stash of cereal boxes, there was now nothing.

“Where the fuck are my cocoa pebbles?” You swore in shock, not realizing you weren’t alone in the kitchen.

“Shit sorry, I ate the last of those yesterday.”

You whirled around to see Johnny, still seemingly half asleep and with some gnarly bedhead, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. His lips were so perfectly pouty, one small part of your brain almost thought he looked cute like this.

But no, he wasn’t cute, he was a thief— he’d stolen all of your cereal stash. “Did you seriously eat through four boxes in a week?” You asked incredulously.

“It was three and a quarter! And yeah I don’t know, I’m always hungry and just one bowl of cereal isn’t filling enough, so I usually have two, or three...” He mumbled, voice trailing off as he rubbed a hand behind his head sheepishly.

You snorted. And then a thought came across you. “Johnny,” you said calmly, the feeling of his name on your tongue foreign and strange. Was this the first time you’d addressed him by name since his arrival? You couldn’t remember. “Do you not know how to cook?”

He hummed thoughtfully for a second. “No-pe!” He popped the p sound in the word. How was he this cheerful, even first thing in the morning? “I mean, I can like, boil water and cook pasta and stuff like that. I think I successfully grilled pork belly once, though it was probably doused in too much oil and too many spices. My college experience was funded almost exclusively on instant dinners and takeout for two years, and then for the second half one of my roommates was an actual chef, so, no one was allowed in the kitchen ‘cept for him.”

“Honestly, I am shocked that you haven’t perished in some tragically strange idiotic accident yet,” you sighed and shuffled to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. You grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet under the stove and clicked the burner on, reaching for the oil bottle that lived on the counter top and drizzling some in the pan.

Johnny shuffled closer to inspect what you were doing and let out a gasp of appreciation. “You’re making me eggs and bacon?”

“I’m making me eggs and bacon,” you corrected, “But I guess I’ll make enough for you too,” you said as you peeled the strips off the packaging and placed them into the pan with a sizzle. You reached for a few eggs and cracked four into the pan directly, cocked your head at the amount of food, and then grabbed two more eggs and added them in before taking a fork and scrambling them all together, adding salt and white pepper to the bubbling liquid. You glanced up at Johnny, still watching you, slightly curious. “I don’t trust you. You say you’re an adult but you eat like a teenage boy still. There’s never any leftovers.” After a few minutes you flipped the strips of bacon over and then quickly chopped up a green onion and scraped it onto the scramble just before the eggs finished cooking.

Johnny watched you the whole time, and you felt only slightly uneasy under his gaze. When you turned off the stove after plated your food and stepping away to pour yourself some coffee and he didn’t move, you gestured at the pan in a fashion as if to silently ask him ‘What?’

“Oh!” He gasped out lightly, springing into action and plating the food for himself. You hadn’t bothered to sit down at the table, instead holding the plate in front of you as you leaned against the counter and ate. Johnny followed your lead, taking a bite and groaning audibly in enjoyment at he chewed. He smiled and his eyes shone, almost sparkling. You watched him curiously for a moment before he mumbled out “Your cooking is really good! It uh, reminds me of my mom’s. She’s a great cook.”

You kept your lips tightly shut at the apparent compliment. “It’s just eggs, you weirdo. Finish up and do the dishes. When you’re done meet me by the shed. Today you’re stripping off the old paint and removing any of the rotting boards and disposing of them,” you instructed while placing your empty plate in the sink. His tasks for the day were the next phase in slowly rebuilding the dilapidated shed on the west side of the property to make it useful for storage of all the tools you used to tend to the fruit trees and vegetable garden nearby.

He flashed a smile at you and gave a mock salute. “Aye-aye, captain, I am at your service.”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled, downing more of your coffee before trudging off.

It was going to be a long summer.

✧ ✧ ✧

“I’m telling you Wendy, I’m going to need an alibi, I really am going to murder my brother in law.”

“What, for giving you live-in eye candy for the summer and hinting that he thinks you need to get laid?”

“Ugh, no, that’s not— hold up, you don’t agree with him, do you?”

The sound of your best friend’s laughter through the phone had you dragging your hands over your face and pulling down at your eyelids dramatically, as if she could see your reaction.

On Thursdays, you finished up your work for the day around 4pm so you could pull up a chair next to the rotary phone and make time for the weekly scheduled phone call with Wendy. She’d insisted on the arrangement after you went six days without texting her, which you’d insisted was because service was spotty, but she’d accurately called you out on being cranky and stewing by yourself.

You and Wendy had met during your freshman year of college. By graduation, you’d lived together for three years, and made a vow to move to the same city together post grad, hence why she was still your roommate now— or was, seeing as you were on the island instead of back in the two bedroom apartment you shared. There was a five hour timezone difference between Hawaii and Chicago, so you’d figured out a schedule that worked for both of you. The calls had a tendency to last for several hours, and depending on how much wine you’d drink while on the phone with her would include bathroom breaks and you inevitably swearing at whatever you were cooking for dinner than night.

“Honey, please. I love you. Dearly, and against all other advice, you’re my best friend— but you need to get laid. You haven’t been this tense since our last finals week of senior year. And clearly you’re not opposed to the idea of Eye Candy banging your brains out, otherwise you wouldn’t have described him as, and I quote, ‘dumb hot and stupidly ripped’. When are you gonna send me a photo so I have something better to work with?”

“Okay but are you sure you’re not the sexually frustrated one here and you’re just trying to live vicariously through me?”

Wendy’s hum sounded through the line. “I mean, can’t we both be desperately horny and in need of getting some? It’s not ideal but it is possible. Plus, I’m not the one that didn’t pack her vibrator—”

You let out a whine interrupting her as you leaned back in your chair, swirling the wine in your glass a few times as you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder. “Shut up stop reminding me! I regret it but no I’m not letting you send me a new one, especially not with a guy living with me. Come on, my stories are boring, it’s the same thing every day. I wake up, I feed the dog, I tell him what to do and then I hide away doing my own chores. When are you gonna tell me more about that girl you were seeing— what was her name, Joo-something?”

“Nice try, we’re not changing the subject with my dating life. Seriously, babe, you should just think about it.”

“And what, make it awkward for the rest of the summer? No thanks,” you shot her idea down quickly.

“I’m willing to bet money you’ll cave before the end of the summer. Plus, who doesn’t love a good ol’ summer fling? And who says you ever have to see him again once it’s all over?”

As much as you’d loathe to admit it, Wendy had a bit of a point there. “Cute, but you and I both know I’m too high strung for a temporary fling. Plus, I’m not in the mood to catch feelings right now.”

“If I find a way to replenish your wine supply, would that help?”

You groaned dramatically once more. “Not with the sexual frustration, but with my overall wellbeing, yes, yes it would.”

Wendy squealed on the other end of the phone. “Ha! So you admit it, you are sexually frustrated!”

“Woman, when in the years that you’ve known me have I not been at least some kind of frustrated?” You acknowledged.

Your best friend laughed in agreement, understanding she wasn’t going to get much more out of you about Johnny, and began a lengthy and detailed story about her last three dates with a girl she’d met through a friend of a friend. As you listened to how her voice held a dreamlike quality to it when she talked about her, you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy you felt and a sinking feeling in your gut that you’d been lying through your teeth earlier, and that maybe, subconsciously, you did want to catch feelings.

Maybe.

✧ ✧ ✧

“So… is there a story or a reason why you’re here instead of Yunho?”

You lifted your head from your focused task of sorting out the peaberry beans from the regular beans. It was tedious, time consuming, annoying as all hell, and made you want a drink stiffer than the coffee that you were certain made up more of your body fluids than blood or water did at this point. “Yes,” you said curtly after studying his face for a minute, not providing any further explanation. Johnny had his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips, nodding for a moment where he stood in the entrance to the barn.

You had set up your mad scientist level organization for the process all across the concrete floor of the refinished barn. Over the last week, Johnny had finished replacing the boards on the siding of the shed, stained the wood, and sealed it with a protective coat. He even managed to remove all the broken glass from the windows without sustaining any injuries, which you hadn’t thought possible for him. This morning you had him weed the vegetable garden, prune back the hedges along the back side of the house, and clean the deck of the lanai. How did he possibly still have any energy left? He was definitely a harder worker than you’d first given him credit for— you shook your head, not wanting to continue a spiral on Johnny and any detailed thoughts about him.

Back to your task at hand.

The harvest had been divided into several metal basins of five pounds of beans each, and in front of each basin you’d placed two dishes on either side. The point was to be able to weigh how many beans ended up being peaberry from each five pounds of harvest, and to see if you could leverage a steady average from the yield and better plan for how many pounds of the limited roast you could advertise for and set the price per pound accordingly. You wore a face mask and nylon disposable gloves while sorting, and despite being an annoying task, after a while it became a way for you to zone out and let the hours pass by. When the dishes were empty and you first started sorting them, there was a distinct echo of the small beans hitting the metal dish over and over again, until enough beans were lining the bottom that it started to dull the noise.

“Sigh.”

A slight puff of air washed over you. Did he just say the word ‘sigh’ out loud? And was he hovering over your shoulder?

“Can I help you?” You asked, pausing your sorting for only a moment.

“Isn’t it my job to ask you that question? I’m not some layabout, I am trying to earn my keep, you know,” Johnny said in response, rubbing his hands together and eyeing the basin of beans in front of him. You were almost inclined to hand it to him. Over the last four weeks, you’d gotten a lot of decent work out of him, even if you did feel somewhat micro-manage-y half the time with the tasks you did give him. “Okay, how does this work?”

You groaned exaggeratedly and excessively, rolling your eyes. When you didn’t answer, he reached forward and plucked a single coffee bean from the basin and examined it closely. “Hey, this one’s funny looking!”

“Don’t touch them with your bare hands, that’s just going to waste them.” You swatted the bean out of his hand and then looked at your own gloves and sighed. “If you’re insisting on helping, fine. But you need sanitary gear to handle them. Go wash your hands, there’s masks and gloves by the sink,” you grumbled, standing up and taking off your own gloves to dispose of them and replace them with a fresh pair.

Johnny followed obediently, trailing behind you a little too innocently for someone of his size. “Yes, the beans still need to be roasted and that’ll kill any bacteria, but I just like to be extra cautious, okay? Because it’s a mutation there’s no rule to how much of a yield I’ll get with each harvest so I don’t like wasting even a single bean,” you reasoned, settling back down and folding your legs back at the now half-sorted metal bowl.

“So, we’re just sorting the weird ones from the normal ones?” He asked while picking up another peaberry bean, this time with gloved hands and a mask over his mouth and nose.

You took a quick glance and nodded to confirm that yes, the bean in his hand was one of the weird ones he should be looking for. “They’re called peaberry. Normally, a coffee cherry has two seeds in it, or beans. Those two seeds mature in the center of the cherry and you get one flat side and one side touching it. Sometimes people call them ‘flat beans’ but those are the ‘normal’ beans, as you said,” you explained, sifting through your bowl rather quickly. “But the peaberry ones only have one bean inside. The bean is round, so that’s where the name ‘peaberry’ comes from, because—“

“Because it’s round so it looks like a pea, oh I get it! That’s funny,” he laughed, examining the rounded bean in front of him. “Okay, got it, so we’re sorting the peaberry from the flat beans?”

“You proud of your new vocab words?” You snorted, listening for the well known tink of a bean hitting the empty metal bowls. He giggled in acknowledgement.

You worked in relative silence, a small rhythm growing between the two of you. Johnny worked at about half the speed you did, but you couldn’t knock him for it, as it had taken you a while to pick up the pace when you first started hand sorting like this.

“How do you even know Yunho?” You finally asked. Four weeks since he’d arrived, and you’d never bothered to get to know him well enough to listen to the full story of how he’d ended up here.

Johnny shifted in his seated position, clearly a little taken aback that you’d bothered to ask him anything, given your track record. “Oh. Met him in Chicago when I was home visiting. At a local coffee shop, where my buddy Jaehyun is the manager. I went to go bother Jaehyun at work and he was just, shootin’ the shit with one of his coffee suppliers who was doing a visit. That supplier was Yunho. Started talking about how he owned the farm where the beans were grown, and that he wasn’t going to be able to spend the summer out there like he’d planned, so he was looking for some reliable help to uh, take care of things. Mentioned someone else would be on site and in charge, but offered the whole ‘room and board in exchange for copious amounts of physical labor’.”

“And you said yes? Just like that, no questions asked?” It seemed a little too easy, but then again, Johnny had proved to be a little too easygoing.

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the point of my whole year. Just, go with the flow.” You glanced over, but Johnny was looking down, focused on the task at hand.

You nodded and hummed and turned back to your own basin to continue sorting. A few beats passed by before you couldn’t help yourself— “You’ve said that before. ‘Go with the flow’, or that you ‘had nothing else going on’. What do you mean by that?”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Johnny’s ears perk up, followed by movement of his cheeks implying the curve of a slight smile. “I’m on a gap year, I guess is what the kids would say. Or maybe sabbatical? Though it’s not like I have any tenure enough to qualify for the real meaning of the term. But yeah, anyways— year off from work. Not getting paid or anything, but, when it’s over if I want it, my old job is waiting for me.”

“How come? That seems so—”

“Impulsive?”

You frowned. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he repeated, but not in a mocking manner— it was in agreement. “I guess the best way to explain it is this: I was a huge workaholic. I’ve only had my one job post grad after studying business, and I woke up one morning a month before my twenty-fifth birthday and realized it was sucking the soul out of me. It was all I ate, slept, breathed, and it wasn’t even what I wanted to be doing with my life, I realized.”

His pain started sounding all too familiar. “What is it you wanted to do instead, then?”

Even under the mask covering the lower half of his face, his smile reached his eyes. “Photography. I got into an art school when I was applying to colleges, but it just seemed so… risky. I would’ve had to take out loans and instead I got almost a full ride for a bigger university, so I went for that instead. Studied business, managed to grind through undergrad and grad school in four years and walked out with a combined BS and MBA. Took classes every summer to make it happen. I think after graduation, I went back to my parents house and passed out and slept for twenty-three hours straight,” he laughed, clearly recalling a specific memory. “I felt really accomplished when it was over, and even had the job offer already lined up. But I wish I had had more courage to study what I was truly passionate about.

“So after an almost three year long stint at the company and a vested 401k, I decided to take a year off to just, travel the world a bit. I grinded so hard through college I never got the chance to do study abroad, so I guess I wanted to make up for that? I never used to act on impulse or follow my heart, so, that was the goal for this year. To do only that.”

His words struck you differently. This was a whole new side to Johnny that you really weren’t expecting— not that you had a particularly three dimensional view of him to begin with. “And your heart lead you here… to my brother-in-law’s coffee farm?”

He laughed again, trying to hide just how thrilled he was that you were actually engaging in a full on conversation with him. “Well, sort of. My year off started back in February, day before my birthday. Got on a plane and did a few months backpack trip around Asia. I had no clue what would be next, thought maybe Australia, maybe Europe, but when I got off the plane in Chicago to see my mom and regroup on my packing, I decided to go straight from the airport to surprise and bother Jaehyun at his coffee shop. That day I met Yunho. That was a little over six weeks ago. And now I’m here, with you.”

There was something about the way he said that that didn’t sit well in your stomach— with you, like it was a good thing, like he liked it. You didn’t deign him with a response to the end of his story. Like an extension of the current state of your mind, your hands were reaching, feeling around for something, but you were only met with the flat surface of the bottom of the basin.

You looked down to see the last of the metal bowls was empty. Somehow, you’d managed to sort through all twenty pounds of coffee beans. You pulled the face mask down under your chin as you stared at the metal surface for a moment before standing abruptly and turning on your heels.

Confused, Johnny called your name out after you questioningly. “It’s getting late and I’m hungry. You uh, bag up the peaberry and set it aside and then wash out all the metal trays,” you gave him his next set of tasks quickly to make your escape back to the farmhouse to put some distance between the two of you.

A little over an hour later, you’d put together a curry on the stove with some stew meat and a base that included apples, carrots, potatoes, and melted dark chocolate for a more mellow sweet taste to balance it out. You thought about the first time Johnny complimented your cooking when it was just eggs, and how he’d continued to compliment it with every new meal you’d make. You wouldn’t call yourself a chef by any means, thinking that enjoying your go-to recipes would be a more acquired taste, and were in the midst of serving yourself when Johnny came inside with the dog trailing behind him. You didn’t bother saying much, you never did when you’d finished cooking a meal; just a grunt acknowledging his presence and a head nod at the food before you took your bowl and went through the door to go sit on the lanai by yourself. Absent-mindedly, you whistled for the dog to follow you.

Johnny kept to himself that night, eating at the kitchen table, content with looking up out the bay window to see you hand feeding small chunks of meat from your bowl to the dog, even going so far as to pet its head. He shook his head to himself thinking about how you pretended to be so opposed to the dog, and how you still hadn’t given it a name, and smiled as he took another bite.

✧ ✧ ✧

At five weeks, you stopped watching Johnny like a hawk, and started giving him more lengthy tasks that you, quite frankly, just didn’t want to do yourself. Though, if you were being honest, every task you gave him was one you didn’t want to do yourself.

Such as his current one, which was to prep the ground for a new row of sapling fruit trees. You’d walked down from the farmhouse over the hill to the open area next to a row of lemon and guava trees where you’d set him to the task of digging a row of four foot wide, four foot deep holes. The week after next, Jin’s delivery would be a much larger one, and include a number of sapling fruit trees from his family’s farm— rambutans, limes, and mangos, to name a few. You wanted to make sure the holes got dug and the irrigation system set in place properly well in advance.

When you came to a stop at the end of the row of freshly dug holes in the ground you blinked once. Twice. A third time. The sight before you was impossible to comprehend. Because not only was Johnny finishing digging the last of ten massive holes having taken less than three hours to do so, but he had been digging them shirtless.

“What. What?” You asked, staring, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“Huh?” He asked, looking up from the bottom of the last hole and swishing his head to get his bangs, matted with sweat against his forehead, out of his face. The sun had crested over to this side of the hill now and it was blisteringly hot out. Standing in direct sunlight, doing physical labor, obviously he’d worked up a sweat.

You had to tear your eyes away from the shine on his torso and return them to just his face. “Where the fuck is your shirt?”

He pointed to where a lump of fabric was off to the side next to a water bottle. “It’s fucking hot out, I was dying,” he reasoned.

“You’re hot,” you mumbled under your breath, turning on your heel to give yourself reprieve from the onslaught that was Johnny’s unexpected number of defined abdominal muscles that were usually covered by cotton t shirts.

“What was that?” He called, squinting up into the sun from the bottom of the hole.

“I said, put a god damn shirt on before you come back in my house,” you called back, already wrapping your arms around yourself and heading back to the farmhouse. “And dinner’ll be ready in twenty, so finish up,” you added, trudging off before he could respond.

What you would have seen if you’d turned back around was an open mouthed smile curl across his face, as Johnny hummed to himself at the joy he felt for this, the first time you’d bothered to warn him when dinner would be ready.

✧ ✧ ✧

Ever since you’d seen Johnny shirtless, you’d be restless.

Well, restless was the polite word. The word to better describe what you’d been feeling was… frustrated?

Distracted? Peeved? Worked up?

Horny.

The word you were avoiding was horny.

Wendy had been the one to get you to admit it during your last weekly phone call. You told her about the shirtless incident and the first thing she asked was if you had plans to throw out the washing machine and instead start doing your laundry on Johnny’s abs, which did not help your predicament any further. It was also Wendy who had pointed out that you’d been alone on this farm for almost two months with a dog and a man too pretty for his own good, and despite how he represented everything you were annoyed at in life at the moment, after seeing his half naked figure, it would only be natural for you to have been a little turned on. And a little turned on was exactly where you were— for the last week, you had been going on runs every night to release the excess pent up energy you suddenly had.

The last time you exercised this much you were still in college. Back then you went on hour long runs through the city with your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because it was the only way you weren’t constantly bombarded with an on onslaught of messages from classmates, friends, family, or your on campus job that took up way too much of your time. And now, you found yourself returning to old habits, this time because what, you were too proud to just rub one out like the rest of humanity? (That phrasing, too, was courtesy of your best friend, when she again reminded you of your failure to pack your vibrator.)

After another eight miles up and down the road outside the farm that ran along the island’s coast your legs felt like absolute jello when you finished, but your head was empty enough that you were able to return to the property and exist near Johnny in peace. You walked by the barn on your way up to the farmhouse, sticking your head inside briefly to look for him. You didn’t hear any noise, and didn’t find him at first glance, but didn’t think much of it as you went back inside.

The dog was already in the kitchen, so that should have been your first clue. You opened the fridge and peered inside, pulling out a number of assorted ingredients to make a lemon cream sauce for pasta with chicken.

You set a pot of water to boil, turned the oven on to preheat, and began melting butter, garlic, oil, and a variety of herbs in a sauce pan. That plus the low hum of the overhead fan meant just enough noise that you couldn’t hear the water running from the small shower on the other side of the house, and you didn’t think twice as the heat cast off by the appliances made you feel even stuffier post-run, and you peeled your shirt off your body and rolled the waistband of your shorts down an inch, pressing your bare feet flat against the hardwood flooring to try and get some semblance of cooling relief.

It was only a few moments later, with the water boiling and pasta cooking inside and the chicken already seasoned and in the oven, when you peered over the bubbling sauce pan and dipped the edge of your pinky into the mixture to bring just a taste up to your mouth. Just like you’d hoped, it was light and had a kick of citrus to it from the lemon, but not so much that it was overpowering. You closed your eyes and hummed in appreciation as you licked the sauce off, which, in retrospect, probably sounded far too much like a moan for your own good.

“Jesus fuck—”

And suddenly, you realized you weren’t alone inside the house.

You screamed at first from the shock of being startled by the noise, and then again when it registered in your brain that Johnny was standing in the kitchen, hair dripping wet, chest bare and abdominal muscles just as defined as the last time you’d seen them, face flushed in some sort of embarrassment with a bath towel wrapped around his hips.

Johnny was fresh out of the shower, nearly naked in your kitchen, clutching his clothes balled up in his left hand.

You scream again.

“What are you doing?!” You shrieked out, raising your voice over the dog’s excited barking at the commotion the two of you had begun making.

He stammered for a moment, clearly frozen in place. “I was just! You were gone, and I was done for the day, so I took a shower but I— I forgot my change of clothes in my room and these towels are small and just— Jesus why are you wearing so little clothing?!”

Your fury returned full force at the comment. “Why am I wearing so little clothing? You’re in a towel for fuck’s sake! This is my house, I live here! I should be the one asking you where your clothes are!”

“They’re here, in my hand!” He yelled back, waving the bundle around frantically. “I just said I forgot them when I went to shower!”

Your eyes bugged out of you head as your gaze traveled down, taking in the entirety of the figure before you and— oh.

“Are you… are you hard right now?” You asked in bewilderment.

The way the color drained out of Johnny’s face and the speed with which he moved the bundle of clothing to hold it over the space between his legs answered your question.

“Oh, my god.” Exasperated, you slammed your eyes shut and held your hands up by your sides. “What the fuck, John.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— fuck, shit I made it weird— please don’t get mad, I can totally fix this,” he started spewing apologies, and you heard him take two steps closer to you. “Wait, were you looking at my dick?”

“Ah!” You spat out, turning away from him. His question was valid but you had no intention of acknowledging it. “Out! Get out of my house, go… somewhere else until that goes away or you can, I don’t know, take care of it!” You instantly thought of the implication of your words and then yelled again. “No— don’t— fuck, don’t do that! Jesus for the love of god don’t take care of it while I’m standing here—” you were stammering and beyond flustered. How the fuck were you supposed to talk to someone who had just gotten a fucking boner by looking at you, sweaty in a sports bra, while sucking a cream colored substance off the tip of your pinky?

You exhaled deeply, eyes still closed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go to your room. I am going to finish cooking my dinner. You will be absolutely silent until you hear me leave. I will be staying at the condo for the next week. You will either ration the leftovers or fend for yourself, I do not care. Got it?” You signed out again, eyes flicking open. Johnny held his bundle of clothes in front of his legs and nodded his head once, not bothering with any comeback before he shuffled to the guest room and shut the door quietly.

It took another twenty minutes for the meat to finish cooking and the dish to be full prepared. How you managed to keep your head empty and shut off your internal monologue during that time, you’ll never know, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You packed two servings into a Tupperware container for yourself before shoving some clothes in a duffle bag and grabbing the keys to the jeep you hated driving. It was only about ten minutes down the road to the condo, but it was almost fifteen miles, so you figured this was the lesser of two evils. You whistled for the dog to follow you, and it was all too excited to jump in the passenger seat of the car. The farmhouse was now dry of liquor, what with Yunho not making good on his promise a month ago and your weekly wine dates with Wendy, but you knew the condo definitely had some spirits stashed somewhere in a cabinet. You were going to need that and a nice hot bath to destress after that encounter.

Meanwhile, Johnny sunk down on to the floor inside the guest room, his back pressed against the door. When he heard the sound of the jeep’s engine turning over, he sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair. There were no better words to describe it: he was truly and utterly fucked.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stayed at the condo only for three days, and did little other than sleep, binge watch some TV since there was better electricity and internet here, and eat your way through slightly stale bags of chips and frost bitten freezer dinners that were months old. Because you couldn’t just open the door and let the dog out to run through the property for whatever exercise or bathroom needs it had, you had to actually walk it with a leash and everything. You paid less attention to how domestic the action of clipping the leash on to the collar you’d found in an unopened delivery package on the kitchen table was, and thought more about how slothful you’d felt over the last 60-odd hours of self isolation, especially after two months of working outdoors every day.

It was childish to keep hiding from Johnny. It’s not like you could prove that he’d gotten hard looking at you, and really, shouldn’t you take it as sort of a compliment? (Well, maybe you wouldn’t go that far.)

It was Monday when you returned to the farm, parking the jeep back by the barn and hip checking the door shut after the dog went running off in search of Johnny. It found him carrying pruned branches of trees down to the area where you burned excess brush, and you could hear the excited sound of his voice at the return of the creature as you walked slowly down the hill towards him.

“I missed you! It’s been so lonely without you, but I guess I’m glad your mommy had you with her, huh?” He cooed at the dog, rubbing its face in his hands after dropping the bundle of branches and flopping its ears from side to side. Hearing Johnny refer to you as a mother, even of the animal, had you grimacing.

“Ew,” you said, making your presence known. He stood up suddenly, possibly just a little embarrassed.

“Oh! You’re uh, you’re back.” You nodded, lips pressed together in a flat line. Your hands were full, carrying two takeout coffees from a shop down near the condo you’d stopped at on the way back. You’d forgotten how much the farm felt like a different planet, a different space in time almost, because of how isolated it felt. The act of ordering a coffee to go rather than making it yourself in the morning was equal parts bewildering and soothing.

You had no idea what compelled you to order an iced americano along with the cortado you’d gotten for yourself. You didn’t really know much about Johnny beyond the one conversation you’d had about how he ended up meeting your brother in law and crashing on the farm with you in the first place. But somehow, ordering the drink had felt right, and you thought of it as a potential peace offering to cut the tension.

“This is yours,” you said plainly after some thought, trying to remove any and all emotion from your tone.

He blinked a few times before taking three steps towards you and reaching his hand out to take the drink. He mumbled a soft thank you and sipped without bothering to ask what was inside.

“You’re just going to take the drink a stranger offers you, no questions asked?”

“Ooh!” His eyes perked up when he tasted the coffee. “I mean, I’ve never questioned any of the food you’ve made me so far, why start now? Besides,” he shrugged, taking another sip, “I trust you.”

You snorted. “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.” He nodded to the paper cup in your hand. “What’s your poison?”

“Cortado,” responded curtly, ignoring his comments that were cutting a bit too deep for ten in the morning.

“Ah, a strong espresso pull with a balance of steam milk and a touch of foam. Nice choice. I can definitely appreciate one, but I’m a little too impatient and drink them too quickly— I think that’s why I love americanos so much, because it lasts a little longer.”

You tilted you head to the side, puzzled. “Wait. You… actually know things about coffee?”

“I mean, yeah,” he laughed, “What do you think I spent three hours talking with Yunho about the day we met? I did my time as a barista in college. Free coffee every shift was hard to pass up when you’re doing almost a double course load every other semester. I’ve always been curious about the growing and roasting process, and I know a lot of people do home roasting as a hobby but I just never made the time to explore it.”

Well, duh, you thought, that actually made sense. “Oh god, and here I’ve been making my lame ass bitter pour over all summer— you know how to pull a shot of espresso then I take it? You’ve seen the La Marzocco on the counter, how come you’ve never used it?”

He pouted his lips out in a flat line and shrugged comically. “Dunno. I mean, I’m a guest and a worker first, and it’s not mine, so, I didn’t wanna make any assumptions. But if this is an open invitation to use it, I’m more than happy to accept.”

You chewed on the inside of your mouth for a moment. You could feel it in the air as the hairs on your arms stood up slightly, goosebumps running down your skin. You hoped in wasn’t too noticeable. Maybe this was it— maybe it really was time to extend an olive branch and have more than half a conversation with him every four days. “It’s a little older and sort of temperamental, but it’s still a good machine. I’ll… show you the quirks tomorrow morning, or whenever you want something to drink,” you offered.

It was then that you discovered this: Johnny was not a great actor. He wore his heart on his sleeve. You figured this to be true because he could barely contain the smile that spread across his face, and the energetic nod he gave, and the mild soft exhale (squeal?) of excitement. You rolled your eyes gently and turned away, drink in hand. “When it cools down later after dinner, I’m roasting tonight. You’re welcome to join.”

You gave him the benefit of not bearing witness to the fist pump he made as you walked away.

Dinner that night was stir fried ground pork with carrots and zucchini from the garden served over rice. It was one of your comfort dishes, easy to make and easy to clean up after, since it used only two pans. As soon as you’d finished eating, this time sitting at the table together with Johnny, he’d cleared the dishes and got to cleaning up right away. You stretched your arms overhead and leaned back in your chair far enough to crack your back slightly with a loud pop.

“Oof, that sounded like it felt good,” he laughed from the sink. You hummed in agreement. “So what’d you do before this? Desk job hunched over a computer like the rest of us?”

“Mmm something like that. You may have been bored out of your mind in business, but I sold my soul years ago to work in advertising.”

“Why does that like, fit?” He asked, turning the water off and drying the pan you’d used for cooking by hand.

“You saying I have no soul?” You challenged.

He shrugged. “Hey, you said it, not me. We’re both just cogs in the machine that is late stage capitalism, I guess.”

You didn’t know how deeply you wanted to get into it with Johnny just yet. Maybe eventually, but, not right now. “Yeah, well, I was just a Project Manager, not like a Copywriter or anything. Did you know Yunho was a staff Art Director before he switched to the coffee business full time? We used to work at the same agency a few years back.”

Johnny snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Ah, that’s right! I remember him saying something about that, made the same jokes about having no soul. You two are a lot alike for not being related by blood.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong; sometimes you wondered if you’d become closer with Yunho that you were with your sister at this point. “Enough about that. If you’re done follow me, it’s probably cool enough to fire up the roaster. I just want to do a test batch of like, five pounds with the regular beans to see how this year’s harvest takes to our standard roast,” you explained, heading to the door and slipping on your sneakers. “Don’t let the dog out, it gets scared from the loud noises and I don’t need it freaking out.”

Johnny dried his hands and followed after you to the barn. You flicked on the lights and went straight for the sink to pull your hair out of your face, wash your hands, and put on a pair of gloves and a mask. Johnny followed your lead, even going so far as to tie up the top layer of his hair on top of his head. “Hey look! It’s like an apple,” he bobbed his head from side to side to make the tiny ponytail move back and forth, and you couldn’t help but snort as you tried to suppress your laughter.

“Dork,” was all you said. You went to the storage racks to pick up one of the sorted burlap bags of beans and hoisted it over your shoulder to carry it to a metal prep table where you carefully opened it and began scooping out the green beans and pouring them into a bowl on a metal scale that had been zeroed out. “So obviously you know that coffee is counted by weight in pounds. That monstrosity,” you jerked your head in the direction of the massive eight foot tall machine in the corner of the room, “Can handle up to twenty-five pounds of beans in the barrel at a time. Because it’s so big, it’s best to not do super small batches, otherwise you risk burning the beans. Since I’m going for five pounds, it’ll be okay, but if I was doing any less I’d use one of the table top roasters, since they have a smaller barrel.” You finished weighing out five pounds and handed the container to him to carry.

You continued explaining the full process of roasting and science behind it as you flipped switches, checked that the exhaust was hooked up properly, and set the dials for the heat and time on the industrial roaster before pulling the door to the funnel open and having Johnny slowly pour the beans inside. “God you’re a fucking giant, I always need a step stool to reach that high,” you commented as he made the reach with ease.

You weren’t kidding when you said the roaster was loud when it was running. Thankfully with the size of the machine and this batch, it was only eleven minutes of the two of you standing just a few feet away in case anything went wrong and you had to hit the emergency stop, holding your hands over your ears to block the sound. Johnny began jokingly exaggerating mouthing something out, and you felt almost like friends as you laughed at his antics. You were never the best at reading lips. Especially not Johnny’s, they were too full and distracting on their own for you to make sense of the mouth shapes. When the machine came to a grinding halt and the noise suddenly stopped, he was still shouting words and his voice echoed around the space in the absence of the noise, “I said, I think you’re— oh, wow, that was fast,” he quickly diverted, catching himself from finishing whatever it was he was about to say.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of trying to pry out of him what he was in the process of saying under the protection of the loud noises. You shook it off mentally and showed him how to remove the beans from the roasting chamber. “So you take them out like this, and then they’re still going to be warm for a while, so it’s best to let them rest for a bit. If you were to brew them right away, the flavor might not be what you’re expecting, so if you wait for them to sit for a few days, you’ll notice a considerable difference in the flavor profile—”

You stopped suddenly, a sound in the distance suddenly registering to you. You left Johnny standing there with the roasted coffee in hand and trailed to the edge of the barn and then you heard it more clearly— the sound of the old rotary phone ringing. “Oh, shit,” you swore and took off running back up to the house. The only person who had the number for the landline other than Wendy were Yunho and your sister. Wendy didn’t call you outside of your Thursday night appointments. You did the math in your head— it was the end of June, your sister’s due date wasn’t til the end of August, but early labor was always something you’d heard about, especially with more than one baby.

Hands shaking, you got to the phone on what could have been the last ring and panted out a greeting of Yunho’s name, already knowing it was him.

“Oh thank god you answered, I’ve been calling for the last twenty minutes, where were you?” He chastised immediately. You felt uneasy at the tone in his voice.

You stammered in response. “I— we were in the barn, I was roasting so I couldn’t hear the phone— what’s wrong? Is she okay?”

Yunho sighed out heavily and was quiet. “She’s going to be okay, but there was a… scare,” you could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want to freak you out, but I don’t want to not tell you either. She slipped getting out of the shower, landed on her hip. Started having lower abdominal pain right after. We thought maybe it was going to be now, but, she’s fine. The doctors think they were phantom contractions? Whatever they were they’re gone now. The babies are fine, but she’ll most likely be in the hospital until the due date. If she starts experiencing any kind of contractions between now and then, though, they’ll want to induce labor.” You could tell he was still stressed and worried, but you nodded and listened as he explained some of the medical details a bit further. “Anyways, all this to say, the next time I call, it could be to tell you that you’re an auntie.”

From the moment you heard the phone ringing this late at night and calculated that it was almost two in the morning in Chicago, the tightness in your chest had been building. Listening to Yunho speak delicately about your sister’s condition was one thing— you thought it was a sigh of relief when he said that everything was fine, but then it was most certainly not fine when the gravity of his last words really hit you.

“Little Bean are you listening? Is the signal bad? I know the connection isn’t always great—”

You inhaled sharply as the pressure inside came to a head. “Yunho I gotta go,” you gasped out, barely able to make sense of thoughts to get the words out.

Before you could hear his rebuttal you slammed the phone on to the receiver to end the call and covered your face with your hands still in their nylon gloves. Despite standing in an open space, you suddenly felt like the room was spinning and the walls were closing in on you. Out, out, you had to get out—

“Hey, everything okay in here?”

Fuck.

Johnny was standing in the door, a look of concern on his face. You heaved into your hands and choked out a sob, feeling the wetness in your eyes building. No no no, everything was most certainly not okay in here. You shouldn’t have made eye contact, you should have known better, because looking at his face, his stupid perfect face and his genuine care for your wellbeing, it set you free falling over the precipice.

You were spiraling, and hard, and needed to land. It was instinctual, the way you cried out and ran pushing past him before breaking into an all out sprint down the hill to the fruit trees. Your legs barely kept up with the velocity of running at a decline, stopping short of tumbling and falling forward. The only thing that you knew to help this, the thing that had worked for you in the past, and you raced through the grove of trees for the larger one at the very end. It was one of the older trees, well mature and established with its root system, so you could always expect it to produce fruit.

But you’d harvested a large amount of the fruit in the last few weeks from the lower branches, and the only remaining fruit that would be ripe enough for your purposes was on the higher branches just out of reach. Over the sound of your pained sobs, you couldn’t hear Johnny’s approach or him asking what was wrong, your one track mind just trying desperately to jump and reach, fingertips barely brushing on the fruit you were reaching for.

“Hey hey, calm down, what are you—” he started.

“Shut up! Just shut— don’t tell— don’t tell me calm— calm—” you couldn’t make the words make sense, in your head you were screaming don’t tell me to calm down, but the act of translating that into words on your tongue was downright Herculean right now, it just wasn’t happening. Your knees began wobbling and standing too started feeling impossible. The tightness in your chest had expanded to reach your back, and though you were clearly still getting air by the fact that you hadn’t passed out yet, you felt like you weren’t breathing at all. You were crying outright now, tears wet and hot and painful as the sobs escaped your throat.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that you were trying to reach a fruit on a branch just above your wingspan. Johnny placed one large hand against your back gently and reached all the way up, fingers wrapping around what he assumed was the object of your fixation, before twisting and pulling to release it from the tree. “Hey,” he said softly, “This what you need?”

As soon as you made sense of the object in front of you you seized it from his hands, biting directly through the rind of the lemon. A muffled sob came out as your knees buckled and you sank to the ground. The bitter rush of citrus did part of its job, and brought your consciousness back down to earth. But your breathing didn’t steady, and your heart was still pounding, and the tears were still falling.

It wasn’t working, your grounding technique; not like it had the previous times, like the night you’d first gotten the phone call from Yunho saying they weren’t coming, and not like the time you bit into a lemon in the kitchen at work after first getting the phone call that your sister was pregnant, and even the time before that when she told you she and Yunho were moving, or when Yunho had asked you if he could marry your sister. If you were more with it, you would have thought for a moment longer about how all of your largest panic attacks of the last several years seemed to be linked to things about Yunho and your sister. Biting into a whole lemon had been your go-to for years, and suddenly, it wasn’t working.

“Fuck!” You cried out, spitting the lemon into your palms, “Fuck fuck fuck! Why isn’t it— why isn’t it working?!” Your words were absolutely frantic, and you were yelling at yourself more than your companion who, quite frankly, you’d forgotten was even there.

Until you felt a shadow pass over you in the moonlight and a pair of arms enveloping you in an embrace.

The top of your head was pressed against his chest and his hands found their way to the planes of your back and began rubbing soft circles. Softly he tutted out a shushing noise, voice barely above a whisper, steady. “Come on, let it out, I’m right here. I’ve got you, you’re not alone,” he said calmly, “You’re gonna get through it. Try to take a deep breath, that’s good now hold it as long as you can— okay, that’s okay, try again, try to hold on to it and let it out slowly this time.”

You’d never had anyone physically with you and help you through a panic attack before. You’d had them around people in the past, but no one had ever made a move to help you through it— not like this, not like him, not like he was doing right now by attempting to guide your breathing. The one time you had one in front on Wendy, you’d locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to answer her while you came down, and she never pressed you about it afterwards.

You had no idea how much time passed as Johnny held you in his arms, keeping a steady rhythm of his palms on your back and letting you cry it out into the fabric of his shirt, your hands wringing the material so strongly you thought you’d tear holes where your nails were.

One hand traveled to the back of your head and he stroked that too. “I’ve got you, I’m right here,” he said again.

After a longer period of silence, your ears stopped ringing and you could finally make out the chirping of the crickets in the night. You sniffled and rubbed the last of the trails the tears had left on your cheeks into his shirt, mumbling an apology into it.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, keeping his voice low, almost as if he was afraid he’d scare you off if he raised it any higher. “I mean— haha, don’t apologize. It’s okay, whatever it is, it’ll wash out. If it doesn’t, it’s just a tee shirt, I can always buy another.” His tone was even paced and calm, and in pressing your ear against his chest you could hear the reverberations as he spoke.

The humid summer air was heavy as usual, even this late at night. You don’t know how long you sat there in silence, wrapped in Johnny’s arms listening to his heartbeat, but eventually you acknowledged that your heart was beating in time with his. Whether you liked it or not, he had been the thing to ground you, and not a stupid fucking lemon.

You shifted slightly, making a move to stand, but Johnny stopped you. “Whoa whoa, hang on lemme get ready— okay, hold on to my shoulders, that’s it.” Your fingers dug into his arms as he adjusted his legs and hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your back and stood up, taking you with him.

“Shit,” you mumbled out, head rushing at the quick movement and the realization that your legs were still bent over his arm, and Johnny was now carrying you. “Hey, heavy,” your words were still soft.

“Mmm, nah, nothing I can’t handle,” his response was easy, dismissive of your complaint, but not in a bad way. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but— anxiety? Panic attack?” You sucked in a breath at the word. You hated that word. That word made you feel weak, even if it was exactly what this was. You dug your nails into his skin slightly on a reflex of bracing yourself, not with this intention of inflicting damage. “Got it. I get it,” he had approached the house and walked to the door, reaching for the handle with the hand under your knees. “I’ve had a few myself. Not recently, but back in college, maybe two or three? Don’t think they were ever as strong as that, though. I tried the lemon trick once, it actually worked pretty well for me. Didn’t make the next time I did a tequila shot all that fun though, couldn’t enjoy citrus for at least a month after that.” His soft laughter shook his chest and you leaned in further. Listening to his voice was comforting. It was keeping you steady. It made you feel safe, and in this moment, you were too tired to think about how you probably should have hated that. “Think you could swallow some water? Rehydrating is important.”

Your head nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna put you down now.” He used his foot to push one of the chairs away from the table and set you down on to the seat gently. The dog was immediately at your knees, whining lowly and attempting to give as many kisses as you’d accept. “Here,” he said gently, crouching down in front of you and holding a glass out. “Drink what can, but not too fast. There you go, that’s it,” his large hand clasped over your knee, thumb rubbing circles on the side. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” you rasped out, voice raw from all the crying earlier.

Johnny smiled softly. “Good, that’s good. Okay, I think you need to get to bed, yeah? Or do you wanna take a shower or something first?” You shook your head. “Okay, just washed your face then?” You nodded. Your conscious monologue was returning, but bringing words from your mind to your mouth was still proving difficult. Johnny didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he offered you his hand. “Need help getting up?”

You answered by gripping on to his hand and using his shoulders to help you stand up. Johnny walked you to your room, holding his arm out for you as a guide. You were able to bear weight on your feet now, and though your steps were slow, you made it to the bathroom to wash your face and and change into sleepwear. Johnny waited by the door, averting his eyes for privacy for you, and returned to your side to help you into bed.

When he leaned over you to pull the sheets up, you reached for his wrist and asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His face went blank before it softened into a smile. “Because. I told you earlier, didn’t I? You’re a good person. Should be simple as that, yeah?”

You didn’t have a response for him, only shifting deeper into the pillows. He turned off the light and retreated to the door frame. “Try and get some rest. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Your head managed a nod, and Johnny finally left, leaving the door to your room slightly ajar. You listened for the sounds of him milling about the house, his footsteps softly shuffling against the floorboards, a few mumbled words to the dog that followed at his heels, until you finally fell asleep.

When you dreamed that night, you dreamt of him, the sound of his voice, and the way your blood felt on fire whenever he looked at you and smiled.

✧ ✧ ✧

Johnny never asked you about the panic attack.

He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t ask what caused it, he didn’t even allude to it in any conversation over the next week. The next day he was just a little bit more gentle with you with the tone and volume of his speaking voice, but when you showed no signs of still be affected from the previous night, he let it go and didn’t bother you about it.

You couldn’t tell if you loved him or hated him for it.

Confusion on your feelings aside, as June came to a close and the morning of July 3rd came, you woke up to the sound of the espresso machine running. Johnny had very quickly proven that he was worth his salt as a barista, even though it had been several years, and had a very nice shot pull. He even figured out the steamer, which was the most finicky part of the machine, and had been making you cortados every morning. That’s what you were sipping now from a metal camper mug, as you walked with him to the shed.

“I think that all that’s left is nailing down that last sheet of roofing and then we’re done,” he hummed cheerfully, inspecting the building. It looked brand new, a marked improvement from the broken windows and bleached paint job it had sported two months ago.

Two months. Was that really how long he’d been here? You didn’t want to think too much about it, about how those two months gone meant you had reached the half way point, and that there were about two months left.

Two months…

“We should celebrate,” he said suddenly, and you looked up puzzled.

“We?”

“Sure!” He exclaimed, “I had no idea what I was doing. I just did what you told me to. This was one of the biggest projects for the summer, right? And plus, not that I care too much for the holiday, but won’t there be fireworks and stuff for the Fourth? Come on, this house has been dry for weeks, let’s go get some booze and live a little, huh?” He prodded your side with his elbow and began needling at you, saying huh, huh, huh over and over until you groaned and relented.

“Fiiiiiine, let’s go before the stores get crowded when everyone realizes everything’s gonna be closed tomorrow.”

The dog was less than pleased that you’d sent it back into the house when you picked up the keys to the jeep. Usually you took it with you, but this time you decided against it, since you weren’t sure how the liquor store would feel with you bringing the stray dog off leash into the store with you.

“All you, big guy,” you said to Johnny as you tossed the car keys at him.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I know how to drive first?” He quipped back quickly while walking to the driver’s side.

“Nah,” you shrugged comically, hoisting yourself up by the frame of the car. You buckled yourself in and watched as he did the same and adjusted the mirrors for his height. “Besides,” you looked down to inspect your fingernails as if they were the most fascinating thing on the planet, “I trust you, or whatever.”

“Bit of a stupid thing to do, but alright,” he smiled, echoing your words back at you. “Kidding, I’m an excellent driver. Alright, co-pilot! You have the most sacred duty bestowed upon you—”

“Navigation?”

“No, music selection, duh,” he scoffed and handed you the aux cord and pulled out a cell phone you’d never seen him hold before. You stared at the device as he unlocked it and pulled up his music library. Johnny noticed your surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “What, it’s not like I have a use for it out here. Your wifi sucks and I’m not about to rack up a huge cell phone bill, so it stays off in my duffle bag most of the time. Anyways, this is a test! Pick whatever your heart desires.” The smirk on his face was beyond mischievous as he handed it to you.

You sighed and settled into the seat and began scrolling. What to pick, what to pick…

Surprisingly, there was a decent number of songs you recognized, and one album in particular you were a fan of. You scrolled down the track listing to about the half way point and pressed play.

The sounds of The Killers and the familiar guitar chords that were practically sewn into your DNA began to filter through the speakers. Johnny smiled and started clapping as the car reached the bottom of the driveway and he flipped on the turn signal. “Oh my god, Mr. Brightside, excellent choice! Okay, you passed the first test. But do you know the words?” He teased.

You gasped in feigned offense as the lyrics came to the chorus, and as he accelerated up to speed you began to belt the words out as loud as you could manage. For once you weren’t thinking about how you hated that the jeep had no top while the wind whipped past you on all sides as Johnny sped down the highway. As the song played, the magic high of belting the words to something fifteen years old that were still imprinted in your brain didn’t seem to wear off like you’d expected it to.

“Alright, chop chop what’s next maestro!” He called over the sound of the wind as the song came to a close. You already had something queued up, something a little more recent, and you smiled as the words to the next song began filtering through the speakers, letting the music carry the drive and not belting along with it this time. You tried to not think too deeply about the lyrics of the chorus as it played.

'Cause you're the last of a dying breed Write our names in the wet concrete I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me? I'm here in search of your glory There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones

As the bridge played and you neared your destination, Johnny tilted his head towards you while keeping his eyes on the road. “Growing up, it was like, a badge of honor as a Chicago kid to have gone to a Fall Out Boy show when they still played the smaller clubs. I snuck into one when I was 16— it was an 18 and over show— felt like I was hot shit when I got away with it.”

“Don’t know why, but you don’t strike me as a Fall Out Boy fan,” you admitted. From your scroll through his music library, you saw most of their discography saved to his phone.

“Hey, I had my embarrassing wannabe emo phase too.”

“Had?” You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing. Johnny didn’t give a response to that one, and as another Fall Out Boy song played through the speakers you let yourself rest in a comfortable lack of conversation, instead sharing the music with him as he drove. It only took to the end of that third song to reach your destination and based on how he handled the drive and parking, true to his word Johnny was an excellent driver.

Johnny followed you closely once inside, his eyes scanning up and down the shelves of the tiny liquor store before he reaches and picks up a six pack of pilsner. “You ever try this one?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “I don’t do beer.”

Johnny blinks twice in response and plops the six pack back down on the shelf. “Noted. What do you drink?”

“If I’m picking?” He nods. “I’m a slut for rosé or champagne. Any sparkling wine, really, it makes me feel fancy and you get to turn basic days into little celebrations.” You follow him as he walks down the aisle to where the selection of wine was shelved and starts looking through the options. “Hang on, you’re not gonna grill me about the beer thing?”

“You say that like your friends usually give you shit for it.”

You crossed your arms and shuffle your feet underneath you. “Well, yeah. Usually.”

“Then I would say,” he trails off for a moment, bending and squatting to see a label on a lower shelf before picking up two bottles of the same brand, “You need new friends. Or that your current ones need to learn boundaries, take your pick. How’s this look for one option? Since this is a celebration and all,” he says with a wink.

Leaning forward, you study the label on the bottle for a moment before nodding in approval. You agree to his point that since they were 15% off if you bought six or more bottles, it only made sense to buy more, and besides, “It’s not like you won’t drink them eventually when you’re on the phone with Wendy.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. “How do you know her name?”

“I’m quiet not deaf, and you’re louder than you think you are,” he says matter-of-factly before heading to the cashier to pay for your selection. You bite your tongue then, hoping to whatever deity was watching you (and probably laughing) that he’d overheard one of the conversations that wasn’t about Wendy insisting you should bone him.

Johnny picks the music on the way back, opting for some Bleachers and Paramore now that he knew at least part of your music taste and how it aligned with his.

Your new selection of wine goes into the fridge as soon as you get home, and Johnny heads to the shed with a ladder in hand to climb on top and finish nailing down the roofing. You opt to help with this task, spotting from the ground and continuously yelling for him to ‘be careful’ and ‘you better not fall and break your neck while I’m watching’. It takes a little over an hour, and it’s late afternoon when he finishes, but when you climb the ladder yourself as he holds it steady from the ground to inspect his handiwork you have to say you’re impressed.

“You sure you never did construction work before? You’ve got shockingly good craftsmanship for a newbie.”

“My dad’s pretty self sufficient so he was always doing the handiwork around the house. Picked stuff up here and there from him growing up, but anything I didn’t know I could just look up on the internet.” You shoot him a pointed look. “What! I said your wifi was shitty not that I didn’t use it every now and again. There’s a YouTube tutorial for everything these days.”

Johnny insisted on cleaning up the last of the debris on his own while you worked on dinner— another pasta dish, orecchiette broccoli rabe, and while that was cooking you boil a pint of blackberries with water and sugar to make a flavored simple syrup. Since you were celebrating tonight, it only felt right to put in a little extra effort even to the drinks of choice. Kir Royales were typically made with a blackcurrant liquor, but it was a niche product you hadn’t found in the store, so the syrup and a slice of lemon for garnish would have to do.

While you waited for Johnny to finish up and take his shower (after the last time, you gave him plenty of space out of an abundance of caution whenever he showered), you started rummaging through the pantry cabinets and making sense of the dry ingredients you had on hand. You had time to kill, why not make a dessert with it?

You hadn’t talked about it much with Johnny, but you actually did enjoy cooking and baking. Something about spending time and energy making something and having someone consume it and tell you they liked made you feel good. You still remember the first time you made breakfast for a hungover Wendy in college and she raved about it for days, though you were pretty sure back then it was because the carbs soaked up the remaining alcohol in her system and stopped her from puking.

Dinner was finished when Johnny finally came out of the shower, this time fully clothed and his hair more dry. You explained that you’d gotten bored and made cookie dough but the oven hadn’t finished pre-heating yet so nothing was baked.

“Fuck it, cookie dough is always better than the cookies themselves,” he shrugged.

“But salmonella—”

Johnny held up a hand jokingly as he stopped your interjection and turned off the oven. “Still convinced that’s a myth parents made up to stop kids from actually enjoying childhood. Plus it’s hot as balls, chill the dough while we eat and then it’ll be even better after. Plus, you haven’t poisoned either of us yet, I think your track record is pretty good so far.” (There he went again, referring to you and him as an ‘us’.)

So you did just that, putting the cookie dough into the fridge and taking your dinner outside with the cocktails you’d made. You didn’t have any wine glasses here at the farm house— after breaking one stemmed glass during your first phone call with Wendy you’d moved the rest to the condo and replaced the drink ware with mason jars because the clean up was too annoying. Plus, you didn’t want to risk the dog stepping on stray shards of thin glass and getting them stuck in the pads of its paws. (You were still decidedly apathetic towards it, but that didn’t mean you were cruel).

So it was in the wide mouth Kerr jars that you poured your blackberry syrup and a half a bottle of champagne, after a comical exchange of Johnny insisting he wasn’t scared of the pop! that corks made coming out of pressurized bottles and the yelp he let out anyways when it happened as expected. The lemon slice garnish was more of an aesthetic touch than anything but you liked it nonetheless.When Johnny pulls out his phone for the second time that day and insists on playing music and making a dramatic toast before you could drink, you could only laugh and agree.

“To the best Boss I’ve ever had,” he said with a raised glass, “Even though you used me for cheap labor and to do all the hard shit.”

“Rude! I cook every day, look at all the chances I’ve had to poison you and how many times have I done it? Absolutely none because I am a saint and you know it.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the music, the low hum of crickets, the starry night sky, or the summer heat that did it, but time flowed so easily, and so did the conversation and teasing banter. Over the course of one meal you’d exchanged more words with Johnny than you had in the whole two months you’d known each other. Two hours later and you’d finished all the dinner (of course there were no leftovers, Johnny was still Johnny, but the amount of manual labor he did in a day made sense of how much he usually ate, you’d come to realize). The bowl of cookie dough was now sitting on the step of the lanai and you and Johnny were side by side on the deck, looking out over the farm and taking the occasional spoonful of dough into your mouths. He was right— the dough did taste better than the baked cookies probably would have, especially after it had chilled for a bit. With the way the stars and moon were hung in the cloudless sky, you could see the soft glow of their reflection in the water beyond the highway and the cliff leading to the beach.

“You ever go down to the shore?” He asks suddenly, and it feels out of nowhere and like he’s inside your head because how else would he have known you were just thinking about the ocean? But then you register that Andrew McMahon’s voice has just crooned something about Venice Beach and the California summer in the music that had still been playing through the speakers of Johnny’s phone.

You hummed for a moment before answering. “Not really. I should make more time for it, but I rarely ever leave the farm, as you probably noticed. I know this place is paradise for so many people, the vacation destination on a lot of bucket lists, but I think my… circumstances made me bitter towards the island, conceptually speaking anyways.” You watched the water with a bit more focus as a few waves crested, but you couldn’t see enough of the shore to see them actually crash. “I know I don’t talk about it much but, I needed a break from my work too. That’s… part of the reason I’m here, why I was waiting for my sister and Yunho to come out. It’s a much less interesting story than yours, so I won’t bore you with the details,” you wanted to reroute the subject before any questions started getting asked, but deep down you knew Johnny wasn’t going to press you for anything you weren’t ready to share. He’d figured that much out about you anyways.

“Anyways, maybe you’re on to something, Seo. Maybe I should take some time to actually relax a bit, seeing as now that I’ve tricked you into finishing the most difficult and time consuming of the summer projects Yunho had planned,” you stuck your tongue out between your teeth jokingly in an effort to mask the vulnerability you’d briefly shown.

Johnny took the hint and changed the subject. “The Killers, Bleachers, Paramore, Fall Out Boy… not saying I don’t like your taste in music, but I’m surprised it’s your picks were so astoundingly pop-punk-rock. Woulda taken you for a—”

“If you finish that sentence by saying ‘country kinda girl’ I’m locking you out tonight and taking the cookie dough with me,” you warned.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, you strike me as too high strung to enjoy country. Like it’s typically too slow for your tastes, or something like that.”

“Oh I’m obnoxious about my taste in media, if you couldn’t already tell. I’ve listened to mostly the same artists for the last ten years. In high school I was that kid that thought making it known that I ‘didn’t listen to the radio pop main stream’ was a personality trait, whatever that meant.”

“Oooh, so edgy and mysterious, did she used to cut her own bangs too?” He giggled into his mason jar, taking another sip.

“Nooo, that was only one time and I swear it was on a dare and not because of a break up!” You jokingly wailed out, throwing your head back in exaggeration. “Although I do regularly trim Wendy’s bangs for her because she can’t be trusted with sharp objects. Knives, needles, scissors, none of it, girl’s a total klutz,” you took another sip and uncorked the bottle again to refill your jar. You held the remainder up for Johnny to see, silently asking if he wanted a top off to finish the last of the second bottle you’d opened.

Johnny was a big guy— tall and muscular, you were sure it would take him a bit more than a bottle or two of shared champagne to get him tipsy. That’s why you didn’t think too much of it as he stared into the reinvigorated fizzing bubbles as he quietly said, “I’d like to meet her someday. Wendy, I mean— you talk about her so fondly, she seems like a great person. Like she’s good for you in your life.”

Why did you feel a little uneasy at the way he spoke about Wendy? He had no idea what she looked like, it was only from the stories you’d been telling that he knew anything about her. And it wasn’t even the real her, it was just her as she existed to you, so what was there to be uneasy about? You were overthinking again, so you had to come up with an answer to fill the silence you’d created— “Yeah well, Wendy’s sick of dick, she’s very bisexual and I’m pretty sure she’s head over heels in love with this Joohyun she started seeing recently, she’s just too much of a chicken shit to tell her how she feels,” you hid behind you glass and drank deeply, not minding as the floating slice of alcohol soaked lemon rested against your nose.

“Sounds familiar,” Johnny said quietly. “I… can relate, I think,” he mumbled out, and you glanced over in time to see him place his now-empty cup on the wood beside him. “Sometimes you just feel the way you do and you don’t really have a reason for why, but you can’t even put it to words to the person it matters to.”

This time when your breath caught in your throat, it wasn’t because of a mounting attack, but in anticipation of what Johnny would do next. The space between you had slowly waned as you’d been drinking, your bodies inching closer to each other without you even realizing it, almost like the way the moon pulled the tide to the shore over and over again. When your eyes traveled from where his hand was pressed into the deck flooring up to meet his hooded gaze, you don’t really know what you were expecting, but Johnny’s parted lips shining slightly (probably from that last drink of wine) was not it.

You knew this feeling. This was when you were supposed to lean in, right? That’s how this usually went. Your hand shifted closer towards his for a moment and then pulled back, and the end joint of Johnny’s fingers flexed as he pressed his fingertips into the deck.

You didn’t lean in. Your heart was hammering in your chest far too loud for you to be able to do so; instead, you look away, his eye and his lips and his face and his everything suddenly too much, and your turned your cheek to him instead.

Instead, he leaned in, and for just a brief moment the crickets stopped chirping, the distant ocean stopped moving, the music stopped playing, and your heart stopped beating as Johnny’s perfectly pouty lips pressed against your cheek, and then your temple, and then your throat. And then his head tilted down and his nose brushed against your skin delicately, leaving a trial of burning in its wake, and time didn’t start turning again until the snort of his laughter broke the silence and he fell into your shoulder in a giggle fit.

It took all of your patience and self control to make your lungs continue to function as you listened to Johnny giggle so much he stopped making sounds until he was spewing out between fits of laughter ‘The bubbles make everything funny, why is everything funny with bubbles?’

‘Why indeed’, you wondered silently, letting the clearly tipsy Johnny rest his head on your shoulder as he continued his giggle fits, stroking the palm of your hand against his back as he’d first done for you under far different circumstances, trying to not think about how much faster your heart was beating while doing so, and how if your accelerated heart rate was from his proximity to you, you didn’t mind.

How long did you stay like that, in such a familiar embrace with Johnny? Long enough, it seemed, for the playlist on his phone to come to an end and for him to start dozing off while resting against you, his light snores the thing that finally made you disturb him so you could go back inside. It was late anyways, nearing midnight you said softly and you tried to wake him gently—

A surprisingly loud boom shook the sky followed by a burst of light and color. Immediately the dog inside woke up and started barking, and Johnny bolted upright, eyes darting around in search of the source of the noise that had disturbed his snoozing.

“Fireworks,” you breathed out, more to yourself than to him. “Guess it’s midnight already.” Johnny didn’t say much, but his eyes twinkled as he watched in earnest as a few more went off before you tugged on his sleeve and insisted that he needed to make his way to bed and sleep. There were sure to be more tomorrow, and he could watch them then.

You didn’t sleep for hours that night. After helping the mildly intoxicated Johnny to his bed, you sat on the floor of your room, knees pulled into your chest and a hand laying flat against your cheek where he’d planted his trail of kisses. “He was just drunk, he’s just a flirty drunk, that didn’t mean anything,” you repeated to yourself over and over again.

But something about the way Johnny’s lips felt against the apples of your cheek and the hollow of your throat when he’d been nuzzling against you stayed with you all night long, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a flame where your heart lived. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and inhaled deeply, breath shuddering on the exhale.

Against all your hopes and intensions, Johnny Seo had slowly chipped his way through your armor and into your heart.

You had to get him out. Fast.

tbc.

—

author’s note | Me: this first part is gonna be like, I dunno, 5k? 6k? Also me: writes 19,000 words. We call this ✨processing your own trauma through writing as an outlet✨ Originally this was going to be one really long one shot and then I decided to split it up for ratings purposes because I am a thirsty whore for Youngho. The ending is rushed but honestly I was so sick of editing and overthinking this lmaooo. No I have not spent a summer living in Kona working on a coffee farm. Most of my coffee knowledge is second hand from the time my brother in law bought a coffee farm and started a roasting business because my sister dared him to by saying “do it you won’t” (an exact quote I shit you not). There’s more to this story and uh I dunno I’ll maybe post it eventually if people don’t hate this one *shrugs*

#Johnny x Reader #Johnny Seo #Johnny Seo x Reader #Johnny Seo fanfic #NCT fanfic #NCT Fluff #NCT Angst #kinda lmao i dunno leave me alone #panic attack tw #mental health issues tw #anxiety tw #idk if i'm even happy with this or if I'm gonna go back and edit that last 5k i wrote tongiht w/e #shrugs this is fine #johnny: bitter brews #swamp witch writes

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hopeshoodie · 3 years

Text

I can’t believe it took me until part 8 to do my favorite boy but

Here are the pros and cons of dating

Noah

Cons

Noah is really non confrontational, so he tends to let issues fester. It’s not that he’s trying to let things build up, it’s just that he doesn’t think they’re important enough to bring up. He won’t start a fight about them when they’ve built up, but if MC is angry about something he’ll mention that there’s a bunch of things he’s let go but not have specifics. It ends up coming out like ‘yeah well what about all the other things?!’ ‘what other things!?’ ‘I don’t remember!!’. He’s not actively keeping track of all her mistakes, he genuinely does forgive and forget, but then when tensions come to a boil he needs to point out that there has been conflict that he just ignored. He’s not trying to guilt or gaslight MC, but sometimes it feels like it. If she thinks especially little of his intentions, it feels like he’s just pulling things out of thin air to be mad instead of focusing on the issue. That’s not what he’s doing- he just doesn’t address little things until they feel like big things. But of course he hasn’t done the introspection to truly understand how doing this is hurtful or articulate that he doesn’t mean it to be.

When he and MC disagree, he lets things go wayyy too easily. This is fine if MC is a really mature, self-reflective person who can see that she’s crossed a line after the fact. But if MC is a little more selfish/immature, like Lottie, this is a huge con because he doesn’t give her accountability that would help her grow. We saw this with Hope- she wasn’t able to recognize how harmful her temper was when she was dating Noah because he never pointed it out, he just rolled over. If there’s a genuine problem- financial, emotional, logistically, he’ll ‘let it go’ until it’s a way bigger problem (and much harder to solve).

Sorry that most of these cons are about how he fights with people, but that’s what we saw in-game lol. I’d love to know more about how Lucas or Rahim fight with their partners. But when you’re arguing, Noah tends to focus on really little details of what you said instead of listening to the whole thing and getting a sense of the bigger picture. So let’s say the issue is ‘Noah, I need you to tell me when you’re borrowing my car because you took it to the gym and then it went from having enough gas to get me to work in the morning to being on empty. This morning I had to stop for gas and that made me late.” The issue there is actually ‘please tell me when you’re using my car”, but he fixates on the gas part and says “well fine I can fill up your tank”. So he focuses on little details that he can fix instead of acknowledging the actual problem.

He internalizes things so fucking hard. Yes he intellectually knows that when MC gives him feedback on things she’s talking about his BEHAVIOR and not him as a person, but he definitely feels like shit about himself if he makes a mistake and MC calls him on it. He’ll definitely beat himself up about things for weeks after it happens, and his internal dialogue in general is pretty toxic.

I can see him being a bit of a workaholic. Not in the same sense that Camilo is in Boat Party, but Noah definitely will go into the library on a day he’s scheduled to be off if he has projects to work on or will stay late because he got engrossed in research. Same thing now that the library’s closed because of COVID- it takes him two times as long to put everyone online and work from home, so he’s spending more time working than ever. He views it through the lens of the ‘greater good’- getting that display set up for the patrons is more important that seeing his wife two hours earlier because many members of the community outnumber one person. Plus he just cares so much about his work that he has a hard time seeing it as an inconvenience to other people.

He loves his family so much. Even when MC and he get married and have kids, he struggles to prioritize them over his siblings and parents. So if his little brother Arlo needs money, Noah won’t hesitate to give him a loan even if he and MC are struggling financially. If his aging mom or dad can’t live alone anymore, Noah will invite them to move in with his family, even if their house isn’t big enough to accommodate more people. I can see this being a huge point of contention, especially in that second scenario where MC would have to take on a caretaker role as well. Noah just wants to help people so bad and has a hard time saying no, so that can sometimes impede his partner.

He’s really used to living on low income, and so he has a lot of frugal habits and concessions that he thinks are normal that someone more middle or upper class might find irritating. These are all coming from my experience and things partners have complained about- but think things like only eating out once a month or refusing to turn the heat on until it’s dangerous or making his own laundry detergent. He grew up doing them out of necessity (and still does, student debt on a public librarian’s budget? I couldn’t do it), so he doesn’t realize how strange or frustrating his habits might be to someone who isn’t used to it. He also has a really hard time justifying spending excessive amounts of money, so if MC has lavish taste there’s going to be some conflict.

He doesn’t like initiating anything. Conversations, activities… you know *smirk emoji*. He will, but the ratio of when Noah suggests something to when MC does is like 1:8

My boy is beautiful, and his clothes look lovely, but he has 7 outfits that he rewears all the time. The closest thing to fashion is him putting a different button up shirt underneath his vest. It’s definitely a joke at work that he wears the same sweater, button up, and quarter length shirt just in different colors. You know that vine where the teacher walks into the room wearing the same shirt in different colors, saying the same ‘hello’ for like a million days. Noah’s coworkers remake that with him, because that’s exactly what he does.

He’s a bit of a homebody, and loves routine. For me, massive plus, I love that. But for someone who wants to party regularly or be spontaneous, I can see constantly changing plans and going out with people being really draining to Noah. He has a small group of close friends, so he’d struggle to remember MC’s friends' names if she has more than five. Don’t get me wrong, Noah will take MC to galleries and dates at least three times a month, but it has to be discussed and scheduled in advance.

Pros

Honestly, what isn’t a pro about him? Noah is a steadfast, thoughtful, and kind person. His politics are about taking care of people, providing them dignity and respect, and building community. He loves his family and is incredibly patient. He’s incredibly smart but not at all classist or condescending about it. I know this is supposed to be about how the islanders affect the person they’re dating, but oh my god he’s such a good person I love him. Let’s just say the pro for this is his positive aura.

He’s really good at group dynamics and listening, so he goes out of his way to make everyone feel heard and valued. If someone says something and no one acknowledges it, he’ll specifically engage with them so they’re not left hanging. If someone’s trying to get a word in but can’t, he’ll get everyone’s attention then say ‘so and so had an idea’. He’s not one to boisterously laugh in group settings, but he always makes eye contact and smiles if you make a joke that flops or say something he agrees with. If people are teasing about something, he picks up if it’s gone too far really easily and will gracefully change the subject/tell them to knock it off.

He’s super conscientious about respecting boundaries and ensuring the people around him are taking care of himself. If MC and him are long distance and texting after 10pm, he’ll be like “I love you, but we’ve both got to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”. He’ll always check and make sure people have eaten when meeting up with them, and if they haven’t he’ll insist they get food from somewhere. 100% gives you his jacket, brings you water bottles, in general just wants you to take care of yourself.

Above all else, Noah just always ensures the people around him feel safe. The last thing he’d want to do is make people uncomfortable, so safe driving, safe spaces, safe sex are all musts. He’s really good in crisis situations because he can calm people down and encourage them to think critically.

Building off of that, he’s really aware of how much of the housework is being done by who and always tries to ensure he’s doing his part. I bet that was a big thing he ripped on Rahim for- Rahim expects his woman to clean up after him and do the bulk of the domestic work, and Noah knows that’s bullshit. I think Noah likes cleaning, anyways, and will usually take laundry/disinfecting bathrooms/cleaning dishes over cooking or running errands. But the mental load of keeping track of recipes/groceries that need replenishing and keeping up with kids needs, he’s aware of the imbalance and does his part. Obvious plus, because it sounds fucking exhausting to date a man. He fucking hates vaccuming though, and will splurge on a roomba.

He has a dry sense of humor that’s very based in puns and hyperbole. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s joking or not, but he never makes you feel bad for missing a joke or dwells on something for too long. He absolutely subscribes to the Mcelroys’ No Bummers rule, there are some things you don’t joke about and he’s happy to shut down inappropriate comments or ‘jokes’. He definitely prefers physical gaffs and dumb ways of saying things, so his favorite comedians are John Mulaney and Chris Fleming. While humor isn’t an important part of how he relates to other people, Noah enjoys being around funny people and won’t shut down their energy like Rahim, Marisol, or Hope.

This is just me projecting again but Noah is generoussss. Even though he doesn’t make a lot of money at the library, he still has a ‘mutual aid’ budget each month (and goes over it often). He’s the first one to give money to panhandlers, donate to gofundmes, and give friends/family personal loans. That definitely gets him into sticky situations sometimes, because he has a hard time saying no and can get taken advantage of, but ultimately I think it’s a pro because he’ll never forget where he came from and always prioritize helping other people.

He has a really pretty, deep singing voice and this is a pro to me because fuck I meltttttt.

The shit he says to his partner or spouse? THE most romantic thing in the world. You think Mr. “you’re made of stardust” doesn’t shower his lover with the most meaningful lines at random times? You think he’s not quoting sappho and jane austen when he’s at a loss for words? You think he’s NOT going to turn over in bed on a lazy Saturday and say ‘this is the most perfect my life will ever be’? It’s not even prompted either, yes he’ll compliment Bobby or MC when they get all dressed up for date night, but more often he’ll profess his adoration in the middle of dinner, then take another forkful of food.

Fantastic with kids, and this is a huge pro because people who can work with kids and be patient/positive with them make me so fuckim soft. But if/when (hopefully when because if MC didn’t want kids I don’t think it’d last) they had kids, Noah is happy to be on bottle duty, wake up early to the baby, and generally be a really involved parent. He’ll take a big chunk of paternity leave, and generally be there as much as humanly possible. Even when they have multiple little tyrants running around, he always makes time to be alone with MC and make sure she’s not taking on too much.

He’s basically a lesbian, which is definitely a reason I love him so much. Hear me out- loves milfs, loves 80s music, communicates affection through meaningful glances and playing with hair but will die before explicitly saying any of it, crushes on his best friend for the longest time but never makes the first move, puts way too much emotional meaning and personal metaphors into objects and then presents them as gifts, is into fandoms and actively collects pop figures, is attracted to assertive/powerful women, wears beige skinny jeans, wears VESTS….. That’s a lesbian. He’s a bisexual man, but he’s also an honorary lesbian.

A really good confidant. Noah’s an amazing listener and never judges people harshly- his life philosophy is as long as you’re not hurting anymore or yourself, everything else is details. So you can definitely tell him secrets and confess regrets to him and he’ll listen with those soft eyes and gentle nods. Talking to him about mistakes always feels like unburdening yourself. And he’d never tell your secret to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you cheat on him, lie to him, or die, he’s never going to tell anyone your secrets.

#litg #litg noah #pros and cons

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skinks · 4 years

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hi!!! what are your favourite movies? like actually good ones but also any trashy comfort movies? is IT (2017) one of them?

Hello!! IT (2017) IS ABSOLUTELY ONE OF THEM oh man, thank you for this, I love talking about movies!!!! This is possibly the most difficult question you could have asked me. Apologies for how absolutely off the rails this got, I just... love movies so much lmao

I’ve said this before, but opening night of IT ch1 was the best cinema experience I’ve ever had, I’m so glad I got to see it with a fully packed audience who were all laughing and screaming together the whole way through. I’m a huge fan of... everything ch1 was doing, the 80s nostalgia, the summer-coming-of-age themes, the solid ghost train funhouse JOY of the Pennywise performance and scares, the washed-out cinematography, the tiny background details to make everything that much more eerie, the kids’ ACTING?!

Like, a lot of the time I find child actors can be really awkward and stilted to watch, but I remember leaving the cinema really impressed by JDG and Sophia Lillis in particular. I liked that they were all allowed to be little shitheads with potty mouths, it felt like a callback to 80s movies like The Lost Boys or Stand By Me. The whole thing worked to make me really care about what happened to the kids (even if I do still have issues with how they handled Mike. I understand even ch1 had limitations with juggling so many characters, but still). I saw it another 2 times in the cinema and have rewatched it at least, I dunno, 7-10 more times since then?

Add to all of that the retroactive CANON R+E baby pining subplot? I just love it, as if that wasn’t obvious by now given my Whole Blog. It’s a really special movie to me!

Anyway!! Ok, the main handful of movies I rewatch all the fucking time are:

Back to the Future, The Lost Boys, Pride and Prejudice (2005), Jaws, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Ocean’s 11, POTC 1, The Dark Knight, Inception, Die Hard, LOTR trilogy, Snatch, The Nice Guys, Logan Lucky, Mad Max Fury Road, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, Billy Elliot, Dirty Dancing, Tomb Raider (2018)...

Those are the easily consumable ones that I’ve seen so many times I don’t really have to concentrate or think about them, but I really love them and unfortunately often KEEP rewatching them instead of new stuff. It would take too long to go into why I love all these movies so much because I could write the same amount as I already did for ITCH1, and everyone already knows why those movies are good, so, lol.

I think I’m gonna have to subdivide and categorise this whole post because there are too many separate criteria for... goOD MOVIES, AUUHH 😩

Okay so first off, HORROR MOVIES? I’m especially in love with Re-Animator (1985) and its sequel Bride of Re-Animator, they’re such good examples of camp and batshit 80s practical effects, and also EXTREMELY funny. I’m actually just gonna post my list of my fave horror movies that I do actually keep on my phone at all times lmao. These are in no particular order:

Wholeheartedly recommend every one of these. I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was watching Hereditary in the cinema, hoo boy. Mother! by Aronofsky is one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had (and I actually saw it on the same day I saw IT ch1 for the first time!! That was a fun day)

Psycho (1960) and The Fly from 1986 should also be on there but I couldn’t fit them in the screenshot.

I’m a HUGE fan of a ton of martial arts movies too, like Kung Fu Hustle, Shaolin Soccer, Ip Man, The Raid movies, John Wick 3 is my fave of the trilogy, Drive from 1997 with Mark Dacascos is incredible, SPL 2, Ong-Bak, Operation Condor, Project A, Iron Monkey, and Zatoichi (2003) are some favourites.

My favourite Tarantino is Reservoir Dogs, fave Coen brothers are Raising Arizona, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and O Brother Where Art Thou. Love some old-timey colour correction and weird offbeat dialogue. I also love Goodfellas!!! And Donnie Brasco! And The Firm, I’m so easy for any good crime/law/gangster/heist procedural like that, especially if they’re from the 80s or 90s in a super dated way.

Fave Disney movie is Tarzan, favourite Ghibli movies are Spirited Away and Lupin III. I remember watching Spirited Away during a thunderstorm one time and it being.... god! Transcendent! Favourite Pixar movie is The Incredibles (the first one. ALSO the documentary “The Pixar Story” is great and well worth a watch, it’s very comforting for some reason) and my favourite Dreamworks movies are HTTYD1 and Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron.

I tend to watch more anime movies than tv shows, so stuff like Akira, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Summer Wars, Journey to Agartha, and my ultimate fave anime is Sword of the Stranger (2008). The climactic fight in that movie is fucking stunning and should be counted in “bests fights” lists right alongside anything live action

Also if we’re talking animated movies another hearty favourite is Rango, and a Belgian stop-motion (which at one time I considered my favourite movie ever) called Panique Au Village (2009) which is one of the funniest movies ever made imo.

As for TRASHY movies, I’m not sure if that’s the right word for how I feel about these ones but.. dumb/silly/slightly guilty pleasure movies? Ones that I feel need some kind of justification lmfao

Troy - something u must know about me is that I’m a giant slut for the Assassin’s Creed franchise, so if a movie smashes historical and mythological nonsense together with fun costumes and sword fights, I’m gonna enjoy myself. Even if they should have made Achilles and Patroclus gay. Other movies in this vein are King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, and Immortals (2011)

Gods of Egypt - I know all the reasons this movie is whitewashed bullshit. But it was already bullshit with giant Anubis mecha and giant snakes and bad acting and ridiculous CGI and frankly I had a blast at the cinema (my friend who I forced to come with me did not have a blast. Sorry H***)

Avatar - yes, the one with the big blue people. This movie gets a lot of flack nowadays but I really do enjoy it just for the spectacle. The full CGI world technology was so new at the time and I love to wallow in the visuals and daydream about riding a cool dragon around in the jungle

George of the Jungle - I’ll defend this movie to the death ok this movie shaped me as a person, it is fucking hilarious and Brendan Fraser is the himbo to end all himbos. It’s perfect. The song Dela is perfect. I still want to write a reddie AU about it. It’s one of the best movies ever made and I’m not being ironic

Set It Up - I KNOW this is a dumb Netflix original romcom but consider this; it was funny and the leads had great chemistry. I got butterflies. I once watched it and then literally immediately set it back to the start so I could watch it again

The Brady Bunch Movie - when people talk about great satires or parodies you will see them bring up the same movies over and over again, Blazing Saddles, This Is Spinal Tap etc, but they never talk about The Brady Bunch Movie from 1995 for some reason, which they should. It is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen and every time i watch it somehow it gets funnier

Some more general favourites that I do still love but don’t rewatch as often, and don’t wanna go into more detail about are:

Moon (2009), Crna Mačka Beli Mačor, The Sixth Sense, Parasite, The Handmaiden, Tremors, Wet Hot American Summer, Tucker and Dale vs Evil, What We Do In The Shadows, Hunt For the Wilderpeople, The Secret of My Success (I love kitschy 80s movies, is that obvious by now), The Green Mile, When Harry Met Sally, Rear Window, The Odd Couple, Breaking Away, Pan’s Labyrinth, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Eagle, Gladiator, The Artist, The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec, Call Me By Your Name, Master and Commander, Pacific Rim, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Legend (1985), Emma. (2020), Flash Gordon, Trolljegeren, Hross í Oss, Beverly Hills Cop, Coming to America, WarGames, District 9, Ajeossi (2010), Tracks (2013), Sightseers, Mud (2012), Pitch Black, Four Lions, Shaun of the Dead, Starship Troopers, The Truman Show, Withnail & I....... Jesus Christ ok I need to stop

NOTABLE EXTREME FAVOURITES that I didn’t include in the regular rewatch list because they’re too heavy/not as well known/require more attention.:

Thin Red Line (1998), Badlands (1973) both dir. Terrence Malick

Malick’s brand of dreamy impressionistic filmmaking is something I find really appealing, both of these movies are gorgeous and unusual and poignant and, in the case of Thin Red Line at least, have a lot of things to say about a lot of rough subjects. I don’t totally understand all those things sometimes, but a theme with a lot of my favourite movies is that I’ll be more likely to love something long-term if it raises unanswered questions, or is surreal/esoteric etc. Plus the cinematography is incredible, and I wish there was a way to get Jim Caviezel’s narration from The Thin Red Line as an audiobook because it’s very poetic and soothing.

Let the Bullets Fly (2010) dir. Jiang Wen

This movie is WILD, it’s so much fun. It’s sprawling and intricate and epic and smart and really fucking funny, it! Has! Everything! A gang of very tolerant outlaws!! Jiang Wen’s beautiful broad chest!!! Chow Yun Fat absolutely DECIMATING the scenery, and the two of them outsmarting each other in order to gain control of a small Chinese town!!! Plus it’s long, but it packs so much nonsense and intrigue that it goes by really fast. Wow what a flick

A Field in England (2013) dir. Ben Wheatley

I know I included this in my horror list but aaaaahhh ahhhh Wheatley is one of my favourite directors (he also made Sightseers, and is directing the Tomb Raider sequel which makes me absolutely rabid.) This is a surreal black-and-white psychological horror black comedy set in the English Civil War about some deserters who may or may not meet the Devil in a field. People eat mushrooms. It’s bonkers. I love being blasted in the face with imagery that I don’t understand

Mandy (2018) dir. Panos Cosmatos

Speaking of being blasted in the face!!!!! This movie... I saw it in the cinema and I can’t even begin to explain the experience, but I’ll try. My favourite review site described it like this:

“...somewhere between a prog album cover come to life and a metal album cover come to life, and subscribes to both genre's artistic tendency towards maximalism: what it ends up being is basically naught else but two glorious hours of being pounded by bold colors...”

So, prog and metal are my two favourite genres of music. This movie opens with the quote “When I die, bury me deep, lay two speakers at my feet, put some headphones on my head and rock and roll me when I'm dead.” and then a King Crimson song, it is SURREAL to the nth degree, it’s violent and bizarre and Nic Cage forges a giant silver axe to destroy demonic bikers and there is a CHAINSAW DUEL. A galaxy swirls above a quarry. Multiple animated horror nightmare sequences. At one point a man says “you exude a cosmic darkness” and releases a live tiger. At another point Cage says, in a digitally deepened voice, “The psychotic drowns where the mystic swims. You’re drowning. I’m swimming.” and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for two years

Paper Moon (1973) dir. Peter Bogdanovich

Really fantastic movie set in the Great Depression (and also in black & white) about a conman and a little kid who may or may not be his daughter, running cons across the Midwest. It’s beautifully shot, so sharp and sweet and the progression of their dynamic is really well done because they’re played by an IRL father and daughter. Tatum O’Neal was NINE YEARS OLD and she’s so amazing in this movie she’s actually the youngest person to win a competitive category Oscar. I keep trying to get people to watch this fbdjfjdbf it’s wonderful

Alpha (2018) dir. Albert Hughes

THIS MOVIE IS A VICTIM OF BAD MARKETING ok, the trailers made it look like some twee crappy sentimental Boy And His Dog Adventure, plus it had voiceovers in American-accented english? That’s a total disservice to one of the coolest things about this film; the fact that they got a linguist to construct an entirely original Neolithic language that all the characters speak for the entire runtime. And yes, it is eventually a Boy And His Wolf adventure, but it’s COOL and fairly brutal, and it has some really incredible cinematography. The landscapes are so strange and barren and alien, you really get the sense that this is an ancient world we no longer have any connection to. And it’s also about like, the birth of dog & human companionship sooo it’s perfect.

Free Solo (2018) dir. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, Jimmy Chin

The Free Climbing Documentary. I loved climbing as a kid, I love outdoor sports, and I love movies that elicit a physical reaction in me, whether that’s horny, scared, real laughter, overwhelming shivers, or in the case of Free Solo - HORRIBLE SWEATING TENSION. Like, I knew about Alex Honnold beforehand because of this adventure film festival I go to every year and I followed him on IG so obviously I knew he lived, but the actual climb itself was torture. My hands sweat every time I see it!! It’s incredible, such a cool look into generally what the human body can do, and more specifically, why Honnold’s psychology and life means he’s so well suited to free soloing. It’s such an exercise in getting to know an individual and get invested in them, before they attempt something very potentially fatal.

Brokeback Mountain (2005) dir. Ang Lee

I can’t even talk about this. When I was around 13 I snuck downstairs to watch this on TV at 11pm in secret, and my life was forever changed. I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t seen Brokeback at the age I did. I seriously can’t talk about this or I’ll write an even longer essay than this already is

God’s Own Country (2017) dir. Francis Lee

The antidote to Brokeback Mountain, I’m so glad I managed to see this one in the cinema too. It makes me cry every time, as someone who’s spent years working on a cold British farm with sheep it was very realistic, which is expected since Lee grew up on a farm in Yorkshire. I love that this movie isn’t really about being closeted, but about being so emotionally repressed and self-loathing that the main character finds it so hard to accept love. Or that he deserves to be loved. The cinnamontographies.... lordt... but also the intimacy and sex scenes are fucking searing wow who hasn’t seen this movie by now. 10 stars. 20 stars!!!

Tomboy (2011) dir. Céline Sciamma

I saw this years ago but I’ve never forgotten it, it cut so deep. It’s from the director of Portrait of a Lady on Fire and it’s about a gnc kid struggling with gender and misogyny and homophobia in a really raw, scrappy way, it reminded me very much of my own... childhood... ahh the central performance is amazing for such a young age. I haven’t seen Portrait yet but I feel like if you went nuts for that, you should definitely check this out, it’s lovely.

Donnie Darko (2001) dir. Richard Kelly

EVERY TIME I WATCH THIS MOVIE I UNDERSTAND LESS AND LESS and that’s what I love so much about it. I love surreal movies, I love time-fuckery and stuff about altered perception etc etc and Donnie Darko scratches all my itches. I wish I could find a way to figure out an IT AU for it, because I know it would work! Somehow! Plus it’s got the subdued 80s nostalgia and I found it at an age when I was really starting to explore movies and music and the soundtrack FUCKS.

Offside (2006) dir. Jafar Panahi

I wish more people knew about this!!! It’s an Iranian film about a disparate group of women and girls who are football fans and want to watch Iran’s qualifying match for the World Cup, but women aren’t allowed into the stadium, so they all get thrown into the Stadium Jail together? They don’t know each other beforehand, but it’s about their changing relationships with each other and the guards and just, their defiance alongside hearing the match from the outside and WOW it’s so lively. Great dialogue and very funny, and such a different kind of story from anything you usually see from Hollywood.

The Fall (2006) dir. Tarsem Singh

This movie... I guess it’s the ideal. This is the platonic ideal of a film for me, it has fantasy, magical realism, glorious visuals, amazing score and costumes and production design and a really interesting, heartbreaking relationship at the core of it. I don’t know why so many of my favourite films feature incredibly raw performances by child actors but this is another one, Catinca Untaru barely knew any English and improvised so much because of that, and it’s fascinating to watch! Also the dynamic with Lee Pace is one of my favourites, where a kid forms a friendship with a guardian figure who isn’t their parent, but the guardian grows to really care for them by the end. It’s like Paper Moon in that sense. What is there to even say about this movie, it’s pure magic joy tempered and countered by genuine gutwrenching emotional conflict in the real world, it’s also ABOUT old moviemaking, in a way, and it’s stunning to look at!

Mad Max Fury Road (2015) dir. George Miller

I know I included this in my “most rewatched” section but it deserves its own thing. We all know why this movie is fucking incredible. I remember clutching my armrests in the cinema and feeling like my skeleton was being blasted back into the seat behind me and tbh that is the high I’m constantly chasing when I go to see any movie. What a fucking gift this film is

Théo et Hugo dans le Même Bateau (2016) dir. Olivier Ducastel, Jacques Martineau

I only found this movie last year and it became an instant favourite. Initially I was just curious because I’d never seen a movie with unsimulated sex before, but it’s so much more than the 18 minute gay sex club orgy it opens with. No, not more than, AS WELL AS. The orgy is important because this movie is so candid and frank about sex and HIV treatment in the modern day, it was eye-opening. Another thing that really got me is that I’d never seen a real-time film before. It’s literally an hour and a half in the lives of these two men, their intense connection and conversation and conflict in the middle of the night in Paris, with some really nice night photography and just!!! Wow!!! AMAZING CHEMISTRY between the actors. This is such a gem if you’re comfortable with explicit sexual content.

Ok. This is already over 3k but film is obviously one of my ridiculous passions and I can and do talk about it for hours. I’ve been reading magazines about it for years, listening to podcasts and reading review blogs and recently, watching video essays on YouTube because the whole process is so interesting to me and I want to learn more!!

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of valuing form over narrative. The idea that story can often come second to the deeper physical experience and emotional reaction that’s created by using ALL the elements of filmmaking and not just The Story, y’know? Whether that’s editing, shot composition, colour, the sound mix, the actors, how it should all be used to heighten the emotional state the script wants you to feel. And so, I think for a few years now this approach has been influencing the types of films I really, really love.

I think I love surreality and mind-bending magical realism in films specifically because the filmmakers have to use all those different tools to convey things that can be way too metaphysical for just... a script? I’m always chasing that physical response; if a movie can make me stop thinking “I wonder what it was like to set up that shot” and instead overwhelm that suspension of disbelief, if I can be terrified or woozy or crying for whatever reason, that’s what I’m looking for. That’s why I watch so many fuckin movies, and why I’ll always remember nights like seeing IT (2017) for giving me another favourite.

Thank you again for this question, I didn’t mean to go so overboard. Also there’s no way to do a readmore on tumblr mobile so apologies to anyone’s dashboard 😬

#long post #films #this is like bill hader being asked to pick his fave comedies and he gives a 4 page list #he has such good taste though ahhahbfhfhfhh lemme talk with him nonstop about movies while i ride him. thank you

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aire101 · 4 years

Text

Ferrum Chapter 1

His first moment of awareness struck him like a tidal wave of sensory input—the sound of thousands of voices chattering; an alien smell of dust and ozone, as if someone wasn’t quite sure what air should smell like; the feel of a breeze caught in a wind tunnel, and the warmth of hundreds of bodies standing together.

And then Tony opened his eyes.

All around him were thousands of people in various fantasy garb, some with swords hanging from their waist, others eyeing daggers, rapiers and axes at stalls along the side streets. People shouted to one another, smiled and fist pumped in fits of elation. The whole city plaza was filled with an energy of excitement and anticipation.

Tony had no idea where the hell he was, or what was going on.

The last thing he remembered was… a meeting. With that Argus Head Developer, Kayaba. But the harder he tried to focus on the details, the more he felt them slip away…

“Holy Shit! Your avatar looks just like Iron Man!” said a man who Tony was pretty sure had not been standing next to him a couple seconds ago. “How did you manage that? I know the character creation module is super detailed but that would have taken forever to work out. Does that mean you were you in the beta test?”

“Uhh…” Tony said, scrambling to make sense of the jargon he had just heard.

Avatar… character creation… beta test…

“Anyway, excellent work on it! I’m an Iron Man fan too, though I guess most people are these days. See ya ‘round, mate!” And with that the man left, leaving Tony still scrambling to comprehend.

As he stood there, he listened in on nearby conversations for more context clues.

“Oh my god this is amazing! The visuals are so gorgeous!”

“You can feel the breeze! The amount of sensory input just to achieve that—”

“Do you smell that? It smells like fresh baked bread. I heard that the taste and smell sensory was the hardest part in the coding development.”

Visuals… sensory input… coding development…

“That’s it, Full Dive has won me over completely. I’m going to sell all my other games starting tomorrow.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The meeting with Argus and Kayaba. It was over his consultation on their new Full Dive gaming technology and their AI systems. But it was still years away from completion. And besides, there was no way in hell he would ever consent to having his brain plugged in to someone else’s technology. That was in fact exactly what he had told them in that meeting, and the primary hold up on developments on his end.

But this was way past pre-alpha or even the alpha phase… if he understood this right, this was a stable release event.

Which meant he was currently plugged into the Sword Art Online servers, and had lost years off his memory.

His chest tightened as his breaths started to come in shallow gasps. His vision began to gray around the edges.

In spite of his situation, he had to give Argus an applause for their work— this panic attack felt exactly like one in the real world, only less physically painful.

Just as he felt his knees hit the ground, someone came up beside him.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s wrong, but its going to be ok,” said a voice. They sounded young. “Take deep breaths with me. After every number I count, we’ll breath together, ok? So… one,” the kid took a deep breath and slowly released. Tony tried to breath along with them, but didn’t quite manage it. “That’s ok, we have plenty more you can do. So here we go. Two…”

Breath in, breath out…

“Three…”

This reminded him of that time he’d missed a week of meds during a mission. Peter had been over to do some necessary maintenance after he had gotten back, and next thing he knew the kid was walking him through the storm. Apparently his aunt had some problems after his uncle had died.

“Ok, you backslid a bit there on four, lets try again. Five…”

Peter… the kid had been so excited about this game concept.

“That’s great, you’re doing great. Six…”

Was he out there in the crowd somewhere?

“Seven…”

He needed to find out what was going on. He needed to get in touch with game support. He needed to log out.

“Eight…”

His breaths were coming deeper and the tightness was releasing. Now with a plan of action, he felt marginally more in control.

“Nine…”

He could do this. Memories or no memories, his mind was still his own.

“Ten… You look like you’re doing good there. How are you feeling?”

Tony finally took a moment to look at the one who had helped him. Given that what he was seeing was an avatar, there was no telling the real age or gender of the person. But the character depicted was a young man with long blond hair, blue eyes and built like a wall. He looked strangely like what Tony imagined a young Thor would have looked like.

“I’m alright. Thanks for hanging around through that. You didn’t have to, so I appreciate it,” said Tony, slowly getting to his feet. He couldn’t help but notice (and appreciate) the lack of pain in his knees from either the fall or the standing.

Yay for silver linings.

“It’s no problem. I had… have… family that needed that kind of support,” the boy said, with a glance at his face before he looked away.

“I’m sorry, that sucks. Not that you have them, but that they have it too. It sucks,” said Tony, fumbling through his words awkwardly.

The guy smiled and nodded, “I get what you mean. And yeah, it does. You doing alright now though? Do you need me to call a GM or something?”

“Maybe. I’m probably just going to try and log out though. You wouldn’t happen to know how to do that would you?” asked Tony.

“I think so. I read about the mechanics of it at least,” said the boy. “What you need to do is open up your User Interface. Just swipe down with your hand in front of yourself.”

The boy swiped his hand down and an interface screen popped up like a hologram.

Tony followed his example, bringing up his own interface.

“Thanks kid… Have a name I can call you?”

“I’m going by Tor in the game.”

Tony looked over his interface with a raised eyebrow, “A Thor fan I take it.”

“Like you’re in any position to criticize,” the kid grumbled, with a look up and down. “Even your robes are his colors. How did you get robes, anyway? The default is trousers, tunic and vest. I haven’t seen anyone run around in a set of robes. Was it a beta thing?”

Tony looked down at himself. Sure enough, he was in a set of red robes with gold trim. That also made him realize… this body was only an avatar, but apparently it looked like himself.

Whatever, him making his avatar look exactly like himself sounded pretty on brand, honestly.

“Would you believe me if I said I honestly have no idea,” said Tony, scrolling through his interface.

“I mean, it’d be weird but considering how confused you look I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Tor said with a shrug.

Meanwhile Tony found two separate settings menus. One opened up an entire other menu system, and the other at the bottom of the main menu opened a box with three buttons— Options, Help, and a grayed out logout symbol.

“Huh, that’s weird,” mumbled Tor, looking through his own settings menu. “Talk about a terrible bug to have on opening day. You’d think that would be the one thing they had working before opening to the public. As far as I know there weren’t any logout problems during the beta.”

“I guess we’re calling a GM then,” said Tony.

Peter pressed the Help button, prompting a ‘Calling GM’ box to pop up with a picture of an old man in red and gold robes.

“Hey, those robes look like—” Tor was saying.

“Oh shit,” said Tony, wide eyed. A communication bubble had come up on his menu as soon as Tor had pressed his button, it read ‘Incoming GM Help call from Tor (Player 8476).’

“Uhhh…” said Tor, staring at the window with wide eyes as well. “Well then, that’s a problem.”

Tony continued to stare at the screen dumbfounded, mouth open and closing like a fish.

As he did, another call request window opened up. Then another. Then another…

Tony’s confusion quickly morphed into horror.

“Dude, how in the world did you accidentally end up with a GM account?” asked Tor.

“I don’t know, but I can’t help these people. How do I shut it off?!”

“See if there’s a ghost mode or something,” said Tor.

Quickly Tony tapped into the other options menu he had only briefly glanced at before. Sure enough, the menu was titled ‘Game Master Settings.’

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Tony as he scrolled and tapped through various options.

“About as ridiculous as your facial hair,” said Tor, with a grin.

“Excuse you, everything about my face is a work of art,” said Tony.

“Abstract art, maybe.”

“You know what, kid—”

“Could you maybe not call me that? Please?” Tor asked, his face suddenly tight.

“Uh, sure… sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It just makes me a bit uncomfortable,” said Tor, looking like he regretted even saying anything.

“No problem.”

Finally, Tony found the GM communication settings. Currently the mode was set to ‘Available,’ but after clicking on it he found an ‘Unavailable’ setting, with the option to send calls to a voice mail for later listening.

Quickly he switched the modes, and the flurry of call boxes ceased.

“Well, that’s one problem down,” said Tony, scrolling through the rest of the GM settings. While he heartily approved of the colors, the robes made him stand out like a sore thumb amongst the masses of beige and brown.

But if he really was a GM, he should be able to generate something different…

With a flash of blue static light, Tony generated a red tunic under an average looking breast plate, paired with the usual leather trousers.

“You just had to make the tunic red, huh?” said Tor with a thin laugh.

“Eh, it’s my thing,” Tony said with a shrug.

Tor pursed his lips but didn’t comment further.

“Anyway, thanks for your help. I’m sure whatever bug this is will be figured out pretty quick. I don’t want to hog your game time though,” said Tony, trying to disengage as kindly as possible and without hinting at just how concerning the current situation really was. Tor had been helpful, but the person on the other side of that avatar could be fourteen or forty. Either way, they didn’t need to be saddled with Tony’s issues.

“I don’t mind. I don’t usually play MMO’s anyway, so I’m not really sure what to do now,” said Tor. “I have a few hours before I’m supposed to trade off with my friend, but I had only really planned to hang around for a couple of them to check things out. With the logout bugged though, I might be here for a while.”

“I’ve never played RPG’s at all, so I’m probably even more clueless than you are,” said Tony. “That being said, the first thing you do is probably to stock up on equipment and supplies. Do you have any currency right off the bat?”

“We start with 50 Cor, but I’m not really sure what that translates to within the economy.”

“I would say as a GM I could generate more, but if I’m remembering correctly the system was specifically designed to control inflation and it may not like that,” said Tony, flicking through his interface.

“I mean, I guess that would be one way to get someone’s attention,” shrugged Tor.

“Considering I apparently have my brain plugged into someone else’s tech, I would really rather avoid that particular flavor of attention,” said Tony.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way… They wouldn’t do something too awful to a player though would they? That wouldn’t really be good press for them. I would think that the worst they would do is boot you out of the game,” said Tor, looking concerned.

“I wish I had the kind of faith in people you do. As it is, I’d rather not chance it. That being said, it looks like one of the things I can freely generate are base level swords and armor. Its not much, but it’ll get you started.”

“Since we’re both stuck here, how about we party up for a while? Not much else to do to spend the time. My friend downloaded a text file with some starter tips from the Beta players, so we could go give it a shot,” said Tor.

Tony let out a breath, running his hand through his hair. He really should be trying to figure out a solution to his predicament, but if the GM call failure was any indicator, the situation may be a lot worse than he wanted this kid to realize. And at this point he was pretty sure the person on the other side of Tor’s avatar was in fact a kid, perhaps a relatively mature teenager, but not an adult.

And apparently they were attaching themselves to Tony, for whatever reason. And Tony couldn’t bring himself to kick an obviously anxious kid to the curb.

“Sure, that sounds like a good plan. Send me a copy of the text file and we’ll discuss it while we head out of town.”

. . .

“Ferrum Vir… did you seriously name yourself ‘Iron Man’ in Latin?”

“Pot meet kettle there, Tor.”

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sick-raven · 4 years

Text

Ghosts of the past - Chapter 1

Batman fanfiction

Characters: Jonathan Crane, OC - Miranda Bradbury, Bruce Wayne, John Constantine

About: Miranda Bradbury moved to Gotham for a few reasons - to enjoy her career as an assassin, and to face her fears. Who else should help her with hallucinations that follow her than the fear expert Jonathan Crane? However, the doctor-patient relationship is very unstable one as both of them have to fight with their past, their present, and Batman.

Author note: I was trying to figure out some fancy way to describe the story. It's just a porn with a plot about two sick freaks. Enjoy.

Fair warnings: Suicide attempt, rape mentions, nsfw, violence, light bdsm

Status: Finished, will post next chapters when in mood.

Can also read at AO3.

Chapter 1

It was a dark evening in Gotham. Now, every evening was dark, but in Gotham with its never-ending mist of smog, it was especially dull and uncomfortable. Street lights wouldn’t break the darkness, windows only shined TV light out and painted pictures of entertained families, or dining families, or, as most common in Gotham, arguing families.

Gotham was also loud and Terry Borrows hated that fact. They’ve never got used to constant car noises – revving of engines and horn honking that all coming back twofold in echoes bouncing from walls of thin streets. Annoying, headache causing. Terry would rather listen to their boss shouting all day.

They were hyper focused on the noise. On their check-up doctor said it’s nothing weird and then asked for payment in amount of Terry’s two-month salaries. Thief.

That’s when they heard it. Soft, almost silent ding. As if you try to get attention at the wedding table and you hit the crystal glass with a spoon. Once. Carefully. It sounded almost magical in this grey place.

Ding.

Terry stopped. At the end of the narrow street they saw a shadow. It was a person kneeling next to something on the ground. Terry didn’t see any details, but dread climbed on their back. This is Gotham. Terry should run. It doesn’t matter what were they witnessing, the logical thing is to…

Ding.

The person looked his way. Every little move was followed by that soft jingle.

And then Terry realized they can’t move anymore. The jingle dinged louder. And louder. The sound vibrated through the streets catching them right by the soul. Terry realized they can’t breathe. Their heart was racing like crazy and their head hurt from wave of sound around them.

The person… a woman… walked straight to Terry, bringing the sound with her. In the dark Terry recognized a scarf on her face and… oh god… bloody knife in her hand.

Run! They tried to move their legs. Nothing.

The sound. The fear. The knife.

Finally, Terry’s body gave in and they fainted. They didn’t see the woman touching their neck for pulse. Nor did they hear the sound stop as the woman left without hurting them.

In the street, there lay another body.

***

Miranda Bradbury really liked Gotham. She felt like a character in gothic romance. Darkness, never-ending mist and bad weather, creepy architecture and constant danger. She enjoyed Gotham since she’s moved here two weeks prior. This city was crazy. Mental even! During the time period she tried to adapt to her new environment, she’s already seen the clown terrorizing city, the Riddler enslaving a whole block and some maniac with knives kidnapping people trying to lure in the Bat.

Oh, yeah. Batman. Before she didn’t understand. How can the police just let mask vigilante on loose? She understood after two days. This city…

This city also ruined her business right away. She moved here, opened a toyshop and that was it. The empty place flourished under her care, filled with toys, decorations and joy. The shop was in pretty good part of town, and yet – no customers. Too late she found out this used to be a toyshop of some crazy guy – calling himself the Toymaker – who tried to kill the city with explosive teddy-bears and sentient Barbie dolls.

Yes. This city was mental.

And she loved it. She always tried to blend in, be the grey mouse in her warm turtleneck and messy brown hair. After witnessing crazy punk-rock fashion of this city she realized she stood up more like this. At least she can pass for naïve outsider. That’s always a plus in her line of work.

The fourth day and finally two guys entered her shop. They looked around with deep uninterest in their eyes. Walked through isles touching stuffed toy here and there or picking up a toy car and putting it back two seconds later. Miranda waited patiently at the counter, small smile on her lips.

They finally stopped in front of her. She suspected they are twins as their expression were the same – dull and bored. They were dressed like gangsters from twenties. Gotham was weirdly stuck in time.

“G’morning, lady,” said one of them despite it being deep afternoon. “We’ve come to talk.”

“How much?” Miranda asked.

“Excuse me?”

“How much?” she repeated not losing her patience. She adored the confused looks. “This isn’t my first rodeo, gentlemen. How much is the protection fee?”

“Straight lass, huh?”

“Partially,” Miranda joked. “I hate beating around the bush.”

“Don loves people like you. Right to bus’ ya know? It’s ten percent if you don’t want’cha place to burn.”

Miranda overlooked the empty store. Ten percent of nothing is… probably not suitable for Don Falcone, one of the mafia leaders of the city. Before setting the shop, Miranda made her research on the city’s bad guys. Always ready. Don Falcone won’t care, he will just want his cash. She started to think she underestimated the marketing. Be better PR, Miranda, it’s not that hard.

“Tell me, friends,” she started with a nice voice, “how does Don Falcone feel about illegal businesses?”

***

Miranda moved to Gotham for various reasons. One of them was the fact she was constantly on the move. She’s never spent anywhere more than two years. The last city she was in was Star City and that didn’t go well for her with all the supers around.

The second reason was that she’s always heard about Gotham as this sick place. The city corrupted by illness eating itself out like a wounded animal. That intrigued her and she felt as if this is the proper place to hide and never be found. And if she is, it will be probably in the dumpster behind some chemical plant. She could live with that future in mind.

The third reason… the main reason she wasn’t afraid to admit, she just didn’t want to deal with it… was him. Professor Jonathan Crane. Miranda took years of stupid, non-working, useless therapy to end up here. Her… could she even call them fears?... were crippling. And she needed the best. Jonathan Crane was the best. The fear specialist with shady background. But that’s Gotham for you. You might do inhumane experiments on your students and don’t get your licence revoked.

Miranda should probably be afraid of someone like that. Ridiculous idea. He was still running decent psychiatric office and all reviews threw him five stars. She will be careful. She just really needed help.

This was the part she hated. Explaining. She sat in front of the professor. He was fairly young for the title. Miranda’s looked through his files too, though he has been careful keeping most of the information hidden. Star student, at least he used to be. Those climb the leader fast. He wasn’t even forty yet, his ginger hair hid possible grey hair very well. He was watching her with his intense blue eyes and almost never blinked. He waited for her to get everything out. Miranda hated those stories. Repeating them again always made her feel crazy. She probably was.

“It’s complicated. I will try to make it short.” Now, Miranda, where is your hate for beating around the bush, huh? Just tell the nice doctor you are a fucking madwoman.

The professor was silent. Waiting. Even sitting he was very tall, and she noticed his fingers being thin and bony, just like his whole appearance.

“I have a problem. I’ve seen tons of shrinks about it already. Most of them gave up on me or drugged me to no avail. The thing is I have this weird… I don’t know… Phobia. Causing me panic attacks, crippling me.”

“That is not uncommon for deep fears,” said the professor. Miranda wondered how can shrinks be so calm. If someone told her they are crazy, she would probably joke about it right away.

“Yes, I know. I was told that hundred times already. There’s a catch.”

“Do tell.”

Miranda shuffled in her chair. No matter how many times she has talked about this it still made her uncomfortable and she felt like an idiot. But she had to fight this. Or she might…

“It’s ghosts. I panic around ghosts.”

The professor opened his mouth to say something, but Miranda quickly stopped him.

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts. That’s nonsense. I just call these things ghosts. It’s like… hallucination I keep having. They appear and it’s like someone caught my heart and pulled it out of my chest. I feel dead. I cannot move, I cannot act, think, anything. But according to all the doctors, I am sane.”

“When do these ghosts appear?” Professor didn’t even flinch. Nor blinked. He heard crazy talk daily why should she be any more interesting?

“They first appeared a little over a decade back. This is when the first attack happened. Then I got a charm, see?” She touched her necklace. Simple round silver ball that jingled softly when moved. “It keeps them away. When I take this off, I see them. I get attacked right away.”

“May I see?”

She held the pendant firmly. “Sorry, I don’t take it off on the first date.”

Her joke created tiny smile on his face. “Understandable.”

He asked more questions and she tried to answer as truthfully as her crime record allowed. By the end of the session she felt like dried out sponge.

“Don’t be afraid, miss Bradbury. We will figure this out,” professor said when she was leaving.

“Funny you say that. I can’t really feel the fear,” she smiled and that ended their first meeting.

***

Terry Borrows way lying in the hospital bed. They hit their head during the horrid night which caused a mild concussion. The doctors were also worried about their heart because it showed signs of arrythmia. It disappeared a day after the incident, but everyone was head over heels with this situation.

“They keep me here because they want to blame it on me,” wrote Terry to their friend. “Because they have nobody else for the murder.” Terry believed that. This wouldn’t be the first time Gotham has fucked them over. At least they survived. Witnessing murder first hand was like being sentenced to death.

So, they were bored on the hospital bed, half asleep, half awake, back hurting from cheap bedding. Eyes closing and opening again just to see how far the sun has moved or whether the food was ready.

Closing. Opening. The sun was setting.

Closing. Opening. Darkness.

Closing. Opening. Shadow.

Terry’s heart nearly stopped. They shouted by surprise. They are definitely going to die now!

“Terry Borrows,” said the shadow with a deep voice. “I have few questions for you.”

Terry was struck by fear. The rational part of their brain wanted to scream. They didn’t. They watched a man dressed as giant bat and their voice trembled.

“Y-yes?”

“What did you see at the crime scene?”

“I already told the police everything.” There was panic in their voice.

“Tell me.”

“There was a woman, she killed someone. She had some sort of mask. She… ah!”

The door opened. The nurse stepped between the doorframe, looked at Batman and then strategically left closing the door behind her. Terry swallowed a curse.

“Continue,” demanded Batman.

“The sound. It was the sound that made me faint.”

“What else can you remember?”

“The jingle. She was jingling like some fucking Christmas tree.”

“What about her movement?”

“What about it?” asked Terry. Batman just waited to let them figure out what he means. “I don’t know. I saw her just for a few seconds. She was hidden in the shadows.”

“Thank you, Terry.”

“You are welcome?” answered Terry unsurely. Then the door opened again, and doctor stormed in ready to shun the uninvited guest.

But he was already gone.

Chapter 2

#jonathan crane #batman #fanfic #writing #writeblr #ghosts of the past #sick raven writing

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daresplaining · 5 years

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Blindspot: Empowering Invisibility

I’ve been writing posts reflecting back on my favorite parts of Charles Soule’s Daredevil run... and hey, I almost got through all of them before the new run started! The final topic I wanted to cover is Sam Chung/Blindspot, who-- alongside Real Boy Mike Murdock-- is the most significant new character Soule created during his time on the comic.

Sam has come a long way for a guy everyone thought was Gambit when his image was first released. With his introduction, he became Matt’s first official, long-term “apprentice” and a compelling addition to the ranks of Marvel’s young, up-and-coming superheroes. I’d always wanted to see how Matt would handle a sidekick, so I was very excited about this, and while I think Sam’s story was not as strong as it could have been, I am eager for him to return to further cement his role within the Daredevil universe and beyond.

Matt has acted as a mentor in the past (most notably to Angela Del Toro, the second White Tiger, during Bendis’s run), but Sam is the closest he has ever come to having an actual sidekick. Thus, his new working relationship with Sam puts him in a fun new role: passing on what he has learned as a superhero, and testing his abilities as a teacher.

Sam: “Whoa, hold on now... what are you--”

Matt: “And suddenly, everyone can see you. What do you do now, Blindspot? You need to be the weapon-- not some gadget.”

Sam: “I dunno. Iron Man seems to do okay.”

Matt: “You could drop Tony Stark naked in the middle of the desert and he’d fly out in a jet made of sand and cactus needles. It’s not his stuff that gives him power. It’s his brain. Try using yours. You’ll be amazed at the difference it makes.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #2 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Soule’s run, overall, suffers from a lack of emotion. It is all plot, no character, and this weakens the development of Matt and Sam’s relationship. Beyond a touching glimpse of their initial first encounter in All-New, All-Different Point One (Sam’s introductory issue), we don’t get to see much of their developing dynamic. The run jumps right in after they have already started working together, and that’s mostly the context in which we see them-- work. We don’t get any real bonding scenes. We don’t get to see Matt decide to train Sam (which must have been a huge decision-- Matt would have been hesitant to take on that responsibility, especially since he’d just tightened up his secret identity again) or the early negotiating of their relationship. Sam later comes to see Matt as a father figure, which should be very powerful, but the only way we know that is because he comes out and says it, because of the shortage of actual parent/child-type moments between them.

That said, there is a lot to enjoy in their dynamic. Matt and Sam are very similar people, and this makes them great foils for each other. Like Matt, Sam is stubborn, smart, and often reckless. He has an attitude, as well as a huge amount of compassion and a desire to help others. He also has a lot of secrets (neither knows the other’s civilian identity for a significant amount of time, which contributes to the emotional distance mentioned above, but is also completely in-character.) And Sam and Matt work well as a team and develop a lot of respect for each other. Matt is a tough but fair teacher, and he sees himself in Sam.

Sam: “Well, I finally got the cast off my arm.”

Matt (caption): “Right. The cast for the arm Elektra broke when I introduced her to you in a fit of utter idiocy.”

Sam: “Thought I might get a workout in. It’s been a while.”

Matt (caption): “A workout. He means he’s going out on patrol as Blindspot. I get it. The hero game’s addictive. It’s hard to stay away for too long. God knows I’ve rushed back out before I was ready a hundred times. [...] He’s not listening to a word I say. Then again, when I was in his place, training with Stick... I didn’t listen much either. I heard... everything. But I didn’t like to listen. Oh, well.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #10 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

The similarities don’t end there. Like Matt, Sam grew up in a low-income single-parent household, and has close ties to a particular Manhattan neighborhood (in his case, Chinatown). But his situation is made even more challenging by the fact that he is an undocumented immigrant, and this distinction between Matt’s experience and Sam’s is actually really interesting. Matt fully sympathizes with Sam, but there is a disconnect that highlights the additional challenges in Sam’s life that impact his budding superhero career.

Matt: “Wait. I didn’t realize... you’re hurt.”

Sam: “Yeah. One of them got me. Stings like hell.”

Matt: “You need to go to the hospital.”

Sam: “Sure thing. You remember when I told you I don’t have papers, which means I can’t get a real job, which means I can’t get insurance? So, you got a spare twenty grand you can loan me for an E.R. visit, I’ll head right over. Otherwise, it’s band-aids and Advil.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #3 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Sam: “I’ve been working on this suit since I was twelve. It was supposed to be my big break. My ticket out. Until I found out how expensive it was to file a patent. How easy it is to steal inventions from illegal immigrants doing their best to stay off the radar so they don’t get deported. I invented a miracle-- a damn invisibility suit-- and now I have to spend half my pay on batteries just to keep the thing running. How the hell do the other guys do it?”

All-New, All-Different Marvel Point One, “Blindspot” by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

This is what makes Sam extra compelling and unique among the ranks of Marvel’s heroes. As an undocumented immigrant, he is in constant danger. Drawing attention to himself is really risky, because if something goes wrong and the police find out who he is, he could lose everything. The precariousness of his life makes his actions as a superhero, his willingness to put himself into the spotlight and take those risks, all the more admirable. It’s also symbolic that the invention that prompted him to become a superhero is an invisibility suit, because invisibility is a key part of his life. As a non-citizen, he feels like an outsider-- unseen, insignificant. But that invisibility is also a source of protection. The idea of someone in Sam’s position actually weaponizing invisibility, while at the same time making himself visible by became a superhero-- who, by their very nature, are public figures-- is a powerful concept. And of course, there’s symbolism in the fact that Sam is working alongside Matt-- one of the few people who can perceive him while he is invisible.

Over the course of the run, we see Sam start to build himself a reputation by becoming a benevolent presence to the people of Chinatown. By working with Matt, he gains the confidence to operate on his own-- which is helped by the fact that Sam is an independent person by both nature and necessity (much like Matt). I love the detail of the shrine in Chinatown where people leave requests for help from Blindspot (“Ghost Brother”). It’s a neat way of depicting Sam’s connection to his neighborhood and his own unique approach to hero work.

Sam: “Okay, let’s see what we got. Wealth, long life, luck... can’t do much about those...”

Daredevil vol. 5 #10 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Over the course of the run, we see Sam grapple with many of the key questions of superheroing. Sam, like Matt and many other heroes, started down this path to thanks to his family-- in Sam’s case, to protect his mother and sister. And like all of these heroes, he is compelled to continue out of a sense of compassion. Sam’s struggle to decide whether it is worthwhile or smart to behave selflessly, to put his life on the line for strangers, is addressed with a sense of emotional honesty that makes Sam extra relatable. It’s easy to claim to be heroic, but it’s another thing entirely to put yourself out there and actually behave heroically, and to take on the responsibility of ensuring other people’s survival.

Sam: “Why did I say that? ‘I’m not letting him kill anyone else.’ Who do I think I am? I just want to impress Daredevil. It sounded like something he would say. Do I really mean it? How far will I actually take this? This guy’s a judge. If he found out I was a vigilante, he’d probably deport me. Why should I die for him? Hell, why should I even fight for him?"

Daredevil vol. 5 #13 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Man: “How do you know that? Tenfingers said he would save us, and he lied.”

Sam: “Because... I... Because I am one of you. I live in this neighborhood. I know most of you. Your name is Mr. Chen, and you run the bodega on Mott Street. Because Chinatown is my home, and I’m going to keep it safe. Because I am Blindspot. And I am not lying to you. Just... just stay in here. I won’t let anything happen to you. I hope.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #5 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Sam’s story is enhanced by the fact that his origin is so challenging. While he is enthusiastic about working with Daredevil and the idea of being a superhero, he quickly acquires a degree of cynicism thanks to the difficulty of his situation. He became a superhero to save his mother, who doesn’t want to be saved. He is filled with doubt about his own abilities. Every time he does something heroic, he suffers for it: he is blinded after trying to rescue Muse’s victims, his mother is killed when he decides to save Matt from the Beast, and his refusal to kill Muse causes the Hand to attack New York City. He is given reason after reason to give it all up, and for a while he seriously considers it. But in the end, he doesn’t.

Sam: “It’s getting harder for me to tell the difference between something right and something wrong. When you work on this level, trying to be a super hero, life and death... there’s all these consequences. Things just happen. I’m trying to do things I know are right when I can. That’s all I can do. Muse is back. Maybe you saw those paintings he put up all over the city. I’m going to find him, and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else. I know that’s right. I know it. [...] You’re a good person. Don’t let this city take that away from you.”

Hannah: “Why are you talking like you’ll never see me again, Sam?”

Daredevil vol. 5 #599 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Sam’s journey is informed by the three main antagonists he encounters over the course of this run. One is Muse, who I consider to be the first member of Blindspot’s rogues gallery rather than an addition to Daredevil’s (how cool is that?!), one is the Punisher (who he encounters in DD/Punisher: Seventh Circle), and one is Tenfingers-- and by extension, the Hand. All of these challenge Sam’s superhero aspirations and force him to decide what kind of hero he wants to be. I loved Muse and Sam’s dynamic, and found the Hand a bit less compelling. (I really like the Hand, and they can be used well, but they lacked depth in this run.) But they are significant in shaping Sam’s character development, and they also tie into arguably the biggest theme of his origin story: family.

Sam wants to take Tenfingers down to save Chinatown-- but more than that, to save his mother. When he is blinded and grows disillusioned with hero work, his mother calls on the Hand to heal him and train him. Sam’s blinding is another weak area of his story. I would have found it more compelling if he had remained blind (this is Daredevil, after all!) rather than being magically healed right away. While having the Beast restore his eyes causes big problems down the road, it still feels like a side-step away from what could have been a much more interesting twist in Sam’s story. I was at least expecting the eyes themselves to cause him problems, since they’re obviously not normal eyes, but they never did. That whole story arc felt underdeveloped, which was disappointing. However! What really matters is that Sam’s time with the Hand challenges him in character-defining ways. They train him and turn him cynical about traditional superhero morality. His mother pays for the Hand’s help by promising her soul to the Beast, and to save her, Sam settles on a morally grey solution: trading her soul for Matt’s.

Lu Wei: “You are thinking foolish thoughts. I can see them in your eyes. The eyes Daredevil took from you. The eyes I sold my very soul to give you back.”

Sam: “You really want us to just go? To forget every evil thing we did here... and maybe, if we want something bad enough, do it again? Moving through life like sharks, preying on anyone useful? No, Mother. I reject that.”

Lu Wei: “You reject me? I have given you everything, Samuel! My life for you! Every choice I’ve ever made.”

Sam: “I know that, and I love you for it. I always will. It’s like you said... only one thing matters. Family.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #28 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

Once again, this plot point is weakened by the lack of emotion in this run. We know that Sam’s relationship with his mother is complicated. She is a good person who has become ruthless as a way of protecting herself and her family from all of the difficulties in their life. Sam clearly loves her. But we don’t see enough of this relationship (or, for that matter, Sam’s relationship with his sister Hannah) to make this story as powerful as it should be. Sam is forced to choose between trading Matt for his mother or trying to save both, and despite his new cynicism and all of the pressures in his life-- from both his mother and the Hand-- to become a killer, Sam makes a heroic-yet-futile choice and tries to save both of them. This results in his mother’s death which, in spite of the lack of development mentioned above, is still one of the most powerful moments in the whole run.

Daredevil vol. 5 #28 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

This serves as a turning point for Sam that carries over into the rest of the run. Despite everything he has been through and all he has lost, he decides that he still wants to be a compassionate person.

Beast: “You have taken our gifts, Samuel... now, you must repay us. One death. A small thing. Think of how many lives Muse’s death with save. This is a small thing we ask.”

Sam: “No... no...”

Beast: “You want this. You know he will kill you if you do not kill him. You do not want to trade your life for his. Reject us, and we will come for you. You cannot use our power and not expect to pay.”

Sam: “No. I do reject you. I reject death.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #600 by Charles Soule, Ron Garney, and Matt Milla

While Sam fades out of the story toward the end of the run (he didn’t get to meet Mike!) he plays a major part in battling the Hand when they attack New York. This restores his partnership with Matt, allows him to bring his animosity with both the Hand and Muse to a conclusion, and cements his image in the minds of the citizens of New York. Blindspot officially joins the ranks of Marvel’s superhero community, which-- for an undocumented immigrant who has grown up feeling displaced and unwanted-- means a lot.

Karnik: “Hey! Beast! My name is Nalini Karnik. I am the Police Commissioner of New York. I serve and protect every last one of its citizens. That includes Sam Chung. He is one of us. You want him... come get him.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #605 by Charles Soule, Mike Henderson, and Matt Milla

This is hopefully only the beginning of Sam’s story, and I look forward to seeing him again-- both in future Daredevil runs, and ideally also within the wider Marvel universe.

#Daredevil vol. 5 #Blindspot #Sam Chung #Commentary

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

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What We Live For (Part 1)

Synopsys: After Loki’s arrival on Earth, the Reader and the Prince of Asgard form a tight bond, that soon enough develop into mutual love, but neither will admit. Though a fatal injury during a mission might make both reevaluate their feelings.

Part 2

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Genre: fluff; angst

Warnings: minor swearing, mentions of blood

Word count: 6112

Y/N was sweaty beyond belief. It wasn’t just the fact that a sudden heat wave had decided to wash over New York. It wasn’t the fact that Tony and Bruce had blown out the AC while doing an experiment. It was because Steve seemed to be in his sadistic mood. Or so he was in Y/N’s mind. Three hours they had trained in the gym and then he had decided that they needed to go for a run. Outside. In the park. Under the scorching sun. Throwing daggers in his direction while sipping on her water bottle, Y/N thought of the tens of thousands of ways she could murder him. And turning the body into dust wouldn’t be that big of a problem. When you’re a pyrokinetic and can produce fire as hot as the star the Earth revolved around... Let’s just say she was having fun imagining him in pain. “I hate you,” Y/N grumbled for the millionth time while walking towards the common area. “What did Steve do again?” Bucky’s voice invaded her senses. Once the super soldier had officially joined the Avengers, the two quickly bonded. They both loved science and space and spent countless hours staring at the night sky. Well, the simulation that Tony had set up on one of the floors, as New York’s bright lights didn’t allow any to real ones to sparkle through. “He hates me so wanted to see me suffer.” “Nawh, doll. Steve doesn’t hate you.” “Tell that to the ten miles I just had to run. Through New York. In the heat.” “He gets intense, that’s all. You know he means well.” Bucky slung his metal arm around the girl's shoulders and Y/N instantly groaned in pleasure, clinging to the prosthetic. Somehow even through it all, the vibranium didn’t get any hotter, so Bucky had become his fellow Avenger's personal walking cooler. “Yeah, well, I’ll mean well when I set him on fire.” The ex-assassin chuckled and kissed Y/N’s temple as they made their way into the common room. The girl went to the fridge and opened up her water bottle, dropping at least a dozen ice cubes inside and put the now cold water to the nape of her neck.

“How far is Tony with the AC fixing?” “I don’t think he’s that far,” Bucky replied sounding quite distracted. “Looks like he has far more pressing issues right now.” “What is more pressing than not dying of a heat stroke?” As Y/N turned around she started to hear people talking. Loudly. And no party sounded happy. “What’s going on?” She made her way to stand next to Bucky as he observed what looked like to be Tony and Steve facing two larger figures. One was raven-haired and adorned a green, black and gold outfit while the other had sandy blond hair in a buzz cut and an eyepatch. “Who’re they?” “If I had to guess, the one Tony is scolding like a child is Thor and the one Steve looks like he wants to kill with just a glance is Loki. They’re from Asgard. I think the dark haired one tried to take over the world at some point.” “Wow,” Y/N took a sip of her water, “what don’t you miss when you’re not on Earth for like a decade.” “Or when you’re brainwashed by HYDRA.” “True dat,” and the pair fist bumped. Y/N was the only other person in the compound Bucky felt close enough to tell everything. All the little details and what was pressing on his heart, so he was more than comfortable joking about things like his time as the Winter Soldier. And seeing as she hadn’t been on Earth for almost a decade and had quite the amount of culture, music and other things to catch up on, they had bonded, forming a tight relationship and helping one another with adapting to the new society. “Fine!” Tony exclaimed. “But he’s not to be without supervision. At any point in time.” “Man of Iron, my brother has changed. He only tried to kill me twice today.” “Is that supposed to make me feel any better, Point Break? He tried to take over New York. So if even one strand on that head of his goes out of line, I will personally punch him back to space.” The one who Tony had referred to as ‘Point Break’ shrugged and nodded. “Seems fair,” and the raven-haired man rolled his eyes. Steve was still shooting daggers at the man when going to sit by the kitchen island, while Tony stomped away in annoyance. “Hey, kid,” he greeted and hugged Y/N. “Hey, dad,” she affectionately replied. Even though there was no blood relation between the two, the genius had immediately taken a liking to the girl and treated her as if she was his own. So Y/N just went along with it. Down the line, they formed a truly special relationship where she looked at Tony as a father figure. “You stink and need to take a shower.” “And you need to fix the AC, otherwise I’m gonna blame my death on you. And Steve, of course.” Stark chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “I still don’t get how you can hate heat when you can actually control fire.” “Beats me,” Y/N shrugged and took a sip of her water. She could feel a pair of eyes intently watching her and after scanning the room it turned out to be Loki’s. The green bore into her Y/E/C and it was as if he was sizing her up, judging and observing. “Don’t get too close to that one. He’s nothing but trouble.” With a kiss to her forehead, Tony went away and back to his lab, leaving Bucky, Y/N and Steve with the two Asgardians. “I do not believe we have properly met.” It was Point Break who approached Y/N and Bucky first. “My name is Thor, Son of Odin. God of Thunder. Prince of Asgard.” “Okay,” she handed him his palm expecting a handshake, but instead he kissed the top of it as if in a movie set in the middle ages. “I’m Y/N, but some refer to me as Firebird.” “Ah, so you are like the Man of Hawk.” “You mean Hawkeye? No, I don’t use arrows. I control actual fire. Like the element.” “Impressive. Well, we should have a match against one another. To see which one is more powerful.” “I guess…?” Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in amusement and question as she side eyed Bucky who was masking a chuckle with a cough. Thor’s attention turned to the super soldier and he introduced himself once more. The girl’s attention was taken back to the raven haired man. He was a good head taller than her and had a gaze so piercing she was afraid he could burn a hole through her skull. “I’m Loki.” The voice was deep and smooth. She could imagine having endless conversations with him with hot teas in their hands and books laying in their laps. “Y/N,” he clasped her hand. It was surprisingly cold, but not unwelcome. A bit rough, but not completely callused. “And what are you the god of?” He smiled, a glint appearing in his eyes. “Well, here you refer to me as the God of Mischief and Lies.” “So that means if I want to go to the cinema and get the children’s discount you would be able to talk them into it?” “Y/N,” it was Steve’s warning tone. “Oh come on! You won’t allow me to say that you are actually a hundred years old and get the seniors one. The tickets are fucking expensive!” “Language!” The girl showed him his tongue and reverted her gaze back to Loki. “I assume you’re a prince as well.” “You assume correctly. Though we are adopted,” he looked at Thor who was now in deep conversation with Bucky and walking towards the other brooding super soldier sitting by the counter “I am still considered a royal. And if I am not mistaken you are one of the most feared warriors in all of the nine realms.” “Can’t say much about the nine realms, but I know at least three of them know my name. Well, my pseudonym, I guess.” “The bird of flame, who incinerates the sky and leaves nothing but the ash of her enemies behind.” “Yeah… something like that.” “Well, I shall make sure not to get on the wrong side of you then.” Y/N looked him up and down. Menacing, yes, you could clearly see that spark, the want to disobey authority, but Steve and Tony were making it seem like he was completely irredeemable. To her, the man standing in front didn’t seem like someone who would wish to destroy a city inhabited by millions of people. This man looked like he wanted redemption and just a chance to live life like a normal being. “So,” Y/N went to sit down onto the couch and flipped on the TV while simultaneously pulling off the sweat soaked T-Shirt she had stolen from Bucky, “why do you know who I am and Thor doesn’t? If I’m so infamous I would expect him to recognise the name as well.” “My brother is an oaf,” Loki chuckled and with a glimmer of green his own clothes changed to something more appropriate for Earth and its insanely hot weather. “And I like to pay attention to things I find magnificent.” Y/N quirked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a smooth one.” “Just stating the facts.” She snorted right as two hands clamped down on her shoulders startling the girl. “Fucking hell, Bucky! You know I hate it when you go into stealth mode.” “Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to scare you. Steve and I are gonna go down and spar for a bit. Thor is apparently coming with.” “Ohh,” Y/N put on her best puppy dog eye look, “please kick Cap’s ass for me. Like, go really hard on him. I’d do it myself, but that would mean putting in actual effort to communicate with the guy and right now I’m pissed for what he made me do.” “Anything for you, love,” Bucky kissed the top of Y/N’s head. “You sure you’re gonna be fine with him alone?” he muttered so that only she could hear, but by the look he was giving Loki, who only smirked and looked at his clasped hands, everyone knew what he was asking. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” “Just… don’t get into too much trouble. Please. For me.” “Sarge, where would be the fun in life if I didn’t?” “You wouldn’t have spent three months in the hospital wing.” “Hey! That was a low blow!” but she was shouting into thin air, as Bucky had already left the room, his bellowing laughter the only answer she got. “You were hurt?” Y/N looked over at Loki, whose eyebrows had creased and she could detect actual worry in them. “Even people with superpowers are not invincible,” a sad smile crossed the girl’s face as the memories of pure and utter pain, of the three months, she was more dead than alive, flooded her mind. “And I guess that would be my warning to you as well." “Warning?” “We’ll probably be sharing a floor and I have very bad nightmares. Night terrors would be more appropriate. So if you hear screaming, don’t be alarmed. No one is trying to kill me. At least not yet.” With that Y/N retreated leaving Loki to his own devices. The Trickster couldn’t help but feel a pull towards the girl, he couldn’t help but want to figure out every little piece to the puzzle that she was. So he set it as his mission while he was staying on Earth. The Avengers might still see him as the person who tried to take over a city while under the influence of the Tesseract, but she didn’t seem to care. And to have at least one friend in the universe would be enough for Loki.

***

The Norse god and Y/N started to grow closer and closer. He felt like someone could finally see the true him and accept every flaw and crack without judgement. Slowly but surely Loki found himself falling for her. A mortal, a Midgardian, but the feelings were undoubtedly there. She had confided in him after several of her nightmares had woken Loki up. He was there, by her side, calming her racing heart and wiping the tears away. It made him furious about whatever incident or whoever had instilled such fear that at night she could not get proper sleep. Y/N didn’t tell what exactly had happened to produce such terrors, but, even though Loki wanted to dig until there was nothing more to find, he just allowed the girl to find peace within his presence. Such an uncharacteristic thing of how people felt around him. “You’re the ice to my fire,” she had said one night as her arms had a death grip on his waist. “I don’t know how you do it or what you do, but in the moments when I feel like I am about to explode, you just… pull me off of the ledge.” “Lokiiiiii!” he was brought back to the present as the girl plopped herself down and into his lap. “Whatcha reading?” “A book.” He closed the piece of literature and placed it down. Usually, he was fine with courting women, but around Y/N, Loki’s heart would beat a mile a minute. “So here’s the deal- Bucky has to go on a stupid mission and he’s leaving me alone, even though he promised he’d go with me, but alas, the world is always getting itself in trouble. That is why I wanted to ask you if you want to go with me to this book expo. And you’ve been cooped up in this place for almost three months now.” “I have been put under house arrest by Stark and Captain Rogers. You know that, Princess.” “Well as your self-appointed best friend, I lift the arrest for at least one day,” the girl ‘knighted’ him with the side of her palm. “Besides, you’ve been good, not getting in trouble. Or like nothing major.” Loki’s heart was about to leap out of his mouth. She was looking at him with such a soft gaze, the Y/E/C orbs holding so much love and care. He knew that there was no world he could possibly deserve her. “Please,” she jutted out her bottom lip and Loki wanted nothing more than kiss her, “pretty please?” He huffed in mock annoyance and hugged her waist. “How can I say no to that face?” “Yes!” she jumped up in triumph. “Be ready in twenty minutes.” Y/N dashed out and Loki was about to follow when suddenly a loud crash came from the hallway. “I’m fine, I’m okay! Go get ready!” “You’ll be the death of me, woman,” but there was no malice to the words, rather pure and unadulterated love. Sure enough in twenty minutes time, a very excited Y/N was waiting for the god by the elevator. “Come on, you snail! All the good ones are gonna be gone if you keep moving so slowly!” Right as the ding went off and the door opened, the Avenger walked straight into a muscular chest. “Shit, sorry, Steve.” “It’s okay,” strong hands gripped onto Y/N as to not let her fall, but all his attention went to the person standing behind her. “And where do you think you’re going?” “To what is called a book expo with Y/N here. As she has informed me mister Barnes and you are going on a mission, so I’ve come to the rescue and shall be accompanying her.” “No, you’re not.” “Steve,” Y/N scolded him, “come on! He’s been good, he hasn’t stepped out of line once.” The super soldier’s gaze instantly softened when looking at the young woman. She had become like a sister to him, the need to keep her safe and taken care of having become a prominent part of his life now. “I’m afraid that also involves you. We need all hands on deck for this one.” Y/N groaned in annoyance. “Seriously? I’ve been waiting months for this!” “Sorry, pumpkin. But it’s bigger than anticipated. And as much as I hate this, we need your help as well, Loki.” That took the Trickster by surprise. “Mine?” “Yes, yours. So go and get suited up.” Loki looked at Y/N whose mood had suddenly changed completely. It was like a dark cloud had settled over the usually happy girl. “Princ-“ he started, but she cut him off mid-sentence. “Loki, can I talk to Steve alone? I’ll meet you on the jet.” He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to know what had suddenly made her go so rigid, but respecting Y/N’s wishes he made the battle armour appear and went to the jet. “Steve, I’m not ready to go out in the field. Not after that. I know it’s been a while, but I can’t.” Y/N was on the verge of a panic attack and Cap could clearly see that. “Doll, you’ll be fine. You may not think you aren't well enough to go into the field, but I know you are. And you’ll be right by me, by Bucky’s and Nat’s sides every second of it. I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t necessary.” “You promise?” she squeezed his palms so tightly he could feel the fire burning through her veins and heat up his own skin. “You promise you’ll be there? Next to me?” “Every step of the way.” Her insides were trembling. Y/N wasn’t ready, but the Avengers needed her, so gathering all the nonexistent courage, she went to her room and quickly changed into the fireproof tactical gear specifically designed by Tony and Shuri. With wobbling legs, she stepped into the hangar and onto the jet which immediately disappeared between the clouds. Loki was already standing up to ask if she was alright, but it was like he didn’t exist like he was a wall. Y/N walked straight past him and sat down next to Bucky, gripping onto his metal arm. Jealousy shot through the man. Of course, there would be more going on between the two of them. How could he have been so blind? She was just trying to be nice, to make him feel welcome. The honorary Avenger scoffed at how he had allowed himself to develop feelings for a simple mortal woman, but as much as he tried to turn his mind to hate, Y/N he couldn’t. Saddened eyes glanced at the girl who had her head on the Winter Soldier’s shoulder. But what Loki didn’t see was glazed over Y/E/C orbs that were trained on one spot. He didn’t see the white-knuckled grip Y/N had on Bucky’s palm. He didn’t see the shaky lip as she relived the last mission that had almost cost her her life. Loki didn’t hear the reassuring whispers from Bucky as he tried to calm Y/N down. He didn’t hear him try and change her state of mind so that she could focus on the mission and protecting herself. He kept reminding his best friend that he would be right there with her, as would Natasha and Steve. He kept reminding how strong and irreplaceable she was to the team. Which all of it was true, but even Bucky had to admit Y/N wasn’t ready and the glare he threw to where Steve was standing and arguing with Tony about something was enough to express every word racing through his mind.

***

They arrived way too quickly for Y/N’s liking, but then again, if things had gone the way Y/N had wanted them to, she would be at a book expo with Loki. “Y/N you’re with me, Nat and Bucky. Tony, Sam I need you high in the sky wiping out the perimeter. Thor, Wanda, Vision you take up the east side, Pietro and Loki, take the west. Rhodey and Clint have the north and the Hulk will be taking care of the south. Everyone got it?” A chorus of ‘roger that’, ‘yep’ and ‘whatever’ rang through the jet before people piled out and immediately joined in the fight. “It’s gonna be easy. In and out. You just gotta melt the door. We all will have your back,” Nat put a reassuring palm on Y/N’s shoulder. “Burn bright, little star,” the redhead said and with that, she rushed out to start and clear the path to the HYDRA base. It was an act for Y/N. All of it. The bravado, the carefree attitude, the person she used to be before her last mission- it was now a completely different version compared to the broken shell of who she had become. But for the others, for the Avengers, for her little dysfunctional family, she would become whoever they needed her to be. For Loki who she had fallen for. Even when her feet stumbled and she almost tripped, when deadly fear gripped her throat so tight she couldn’t breathe, she would do it. The battle was bloody. No matter how many agents she turned into ash and no matter the number of bullets turned into pure liquid as she made walls of fire appear out of thin air and wove into scorching snakes, Y/N could see only red. And on the inside, an old wound had started to hurt. It took them a good couple of minutes before they could even get to the entrance of the base. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Loki throwing daggers and using his ice powers to herd off the enemy. She should’ve told him that she had developed a tiny, ginormous crush on the god, but now was not the time to think about that. “Do your thing, Firebird,” Bucky cheekily smiled and returned to shooting with the rifle, as Steve protected their backs with his shield. With one last glance at the trickster who had stolen her heart, Y/N turned her full attention to the metal door and placed a palm against it. For a few seconds nothing happened, but then, bit by bit the steel started to glow red and then turned white as it slid down and burned the grass creating a pool of burning silver. “You’re doing great, doll. We’re almost done,” Bucky covered Y/N’s back with his frame, deflecting bullets with the vibranium palm. “Deep breaths.” And so she took one, unleashing the fire of a thousand suns. The team themselves barely got out of the way before windows exploded from the blazing flames and bones were charred until even the lightest breeze took them to the sky. Nat stood up from her crouched down position and kissed Y/N’s cheek. “I love you more and more with every second that I know you.” The younger girl chuckled, but they had no time to savour the moment so the four set off in a sprint before the base got invaded once more. Arriving by the correct door took them pretty much no time at all and Y/N once again placed a palm against the cool metal which started to heat up. But something was off, something didn’t feel right. Yet it was already too late. The second the door slid to their waist level a click could be heard and Y/N was thrown back against the wall. She didn’t slide down, didn’t crumple to her knees, instead her eyes were wide while they beheld the large arrow that had gone through her side and impaled her to the wall. “Buck?” Y/N didn’t hear the yells of her teammates who were asking what the hell was going on. Instead, her body disintegrated the bolt and she sagged down to the floor. “No, no, no, no, no, why did you do that? You know you never remove a knife from a wound. It’s what keeps you from bleeding out. Stark!” The ex-Winter Soldier called out as Cap stood frozen and Nat couldn’t tear her gaze away from the scarlet stream slipping out of Y/N’s body. “Stark! We need immediate help! Y/N was shot!” An eerie silence filled the comms, before a quiet ‘what?’ responded. It sounded like Loki to her. Her Loki. Her friend. The person she loved most. But it could’ve been anyone else in the team, for every sound was muffled, her vision was already going hazy and she could only think of her last mission where the girl was bleeding out on the floor, just like now. Where the fiery magic that flowed through her veins was trying to patch her body up, but couldn’t the bullet that had penetrated her body had been laced with some sort of a resistant, and clearly the arrow had been coated with the same substance, turning her world into nothing but pain. Y/N’s eyes started to drip closed. Maybe it could be over, maybe she wouldn’t have to trail through the recovery process and she could just peacefully leave. Without regrets. Well one, but then again, what would a god want to do with a mortal. “Stay with me, Princess. Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Princess. That is what Loki had started to call her. “Loki?” Her speech was already starting to slur, and she could barely feel the pressure someone was keeping on the wound. Green mist surrounded them and everything went quiet. There were no more gunshots, no more yelling, apart from the fading one of her comm. The harsh midday sun had changed its glow and was now only a softly fading yellow gleam, which meant they certainly weren’t at the HYDRA base. “FRIDAY,” the prince’s voice was filled with fear, “where is doctor Cho?” “In the med wing. I have informed of your arrival and she is setting up the surgery room.” Cho? But that meant that they were back home at the tower. Her head lolled to the side, and indeed they were. There was the couch they had sat on and talked endlessly about Shakespeare, just like she had dreamed in beginning. And there was the kitchen island Y/N always laid out food for the team in the weekend mornings, sparing a pile of pancakes for Loki, fresh strawberries adorning the sweet circles. Y/N blinked and suddenly a cold and harsh surface greeted her back, white lights blinding her for an instant before black hair came back into view. “You’re not gonna die on, me. Not if I have any say in it.” It was all too much. She just wanted to let go, Y/N was so exhausted. So she closed her eyes and didn’t open them.

***

The God of Mischief was not in a good mood whatsoever. He couldn’t help the rage coursing through his freezing veins as Y/N fought for her life in the operating room. The anger was all-consuming, yelling at him to let it out, but what surprised him, even more, was that it was not addressed to any of the Avengers. But at himself. For not being able to deal with his feelings and not admitting to Y/N how much he loved her. He sat in the waiting area for what seemed like days, pale fingers pulling at the ebony hair, helplessness not being an emotion he knew how to deal with. It was around hour five of Y/N’s surgery when voices invaded the tower. “-ou she was not ready!” Loki recognised it to be Bucky and he stood up, watching as the dark-haired super soldier entered the hallway, fury written across his features. “How was I supposed to know it was going to be booby-trapped?” Captain America retorted, pain shining in his own blue eyes accompanied by guilt. “It’s not about that! It’s about the fact she can barely sleep because of the last time! She is terrified to go anywhere near the armoury in the gym! You know what that mission did to her!” Loki’s eyes moved between the two friends like ping-pong balls as things started to click. “I had no choice, Buck! We needed all hands on deck. Do you think I enjoy putting Y/N in danger? Do you think I get any satisfaction that she is in the same position right now as she was after the last mission? That she might not make it?” That was the wrong thing for Steve to say as it was the last straw for Loki. “What do you mean she might not make it?” the words came out strained. Two heads whipped to look at the god. They hadn’t noticed the quiet man through their bickering and the shock on Steve’s face was evidence of that. “Nothing,” he stammered out and then cleared the throat. “She’s gonna be fine. It’s Y/N,” the blond continued, “she always is.” “Then why,” Loki pointed at Bucky, “does he not seem to agree with you, Captain?” He was at a dead end and seemed to realise it, so with a deep sigh, Steve hung his head before plopping down onto one of the plush chairs. ”Because in the last mission she almost did die. And the arrow, which that time was a simple bullet... but it was enough… it was coated in a substance that stops any regeneration of cells. Cuts, bruises, stab-wounds- no matter how little, once that poison makes itself present in your body- any injury can become deadly. Hell, you can die from a paper-cut. Y/N…” Steve threw his head back and looked at the ceiling as his mind went back to what was now almost six months ago. “She got shot. Took a bullet for Wanda. It grazed her heart. It took Helen and Bruce twenty-six hours to get her to a state that was somewhat better than dead-and-done. She was in a coma for two months before whatever was present in her system was flushed out. What used to take her two days tops to heal, took her a month. PTSD has been a bitch ever since then… but you already knew that…” Tears slipped down the soldier’s cheeks as he remembered that horrible time. “And with it now being an arrow that went completely through her body…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring himself to. But Loki wasn’t listening, his eyes saw nothing but the metal doors that lead to the room where Y/N would either be saved or she’d never open her eyes again. “If she dies,” Loki sneered, flaming green gaze looking at Steve, “her blood will be on your hands. And with it the rest of the worlds. Because you can be sure, I will burn everything to the ground and leave nothing in its wake.” The god didn’t even look at Steve’s sagging shoulders before he left the two soldiers.

***

Miraculously Y/N had pulled through. Barely though. It had taken Cho and twenty other doctors eighteen hours to stabilise what could be stabilised. Now it was a waiting game. To see if the girl’s body could flush the poison out or would she succumb to it. For five months Loki sat by her side day and night. Tony, obviously had given Y/N the best room possible, which included a shower the trickster utilised. He couldn’t be bothered to go back to his apartments, to see the still lingering remnants of their last night spent together. There were still two empty teacups on the floor as well as their unfinished books from a night full of talking and laughter. He had taken Y/N’s and brought it to her hospital room. She’d want to read it when she woke up, was what Loki had said to himself when making the small distance to the med wing. The thought of ‘if she woke up’ was pushed to the furthest corner of his mind. Because if she didn’t, mercy would not exist. Not from him.

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds  Admit impediments. Love is not love  Which alters when it alteration finds,  Or bends with the remover to remove:  O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  It is the star to every wandering bark,  Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Loki’s voice was smooth as it carried the words through the air. Green orbs traced each letter with care and diligence until a soft groan invaded the stillness of the room. Immediately he was up on his feet, face hovering over Y/N’s to see if there had been even the slight change. But nothing. Not a soft flutter of her eyelashes or a small part of the lips. He shook his head, gaze returning to the poetry book. The god’s mind must have been playing tricks, making him hear what he wished to hear. But then his heart almost leapt out of his chest when a hoarse ‘turn it off’ came from Y/N. “Darling?” hope laced the little word, tears threatening to spill from his eyes if it turned out to be simply a figment of his imagination. “Please,” her mouth moved. “Turn it off.” Loki laughed, grasping her palm and feeling her warm fingers embrace his. “Welcome back, love.” A soft smile graced her face as finally, after almost twenty weeks of not seeing Y/N’s glimmering orbs, they opened up and gazed into his. “Hey, Loki,” her look was so gentle he almost kissed her then and there. “Can you please turn it off. I just want five more minutes.” “Turn what off?” The Asgardian was confused, looking around the room to find what was causing her discomfort. “That annoying beeping. It’s making my head hurt.” The answer made him chuckle and against his better judgement he pressed his lips to her forehead. “That’s your heartbeat, love. We can’t turn it off.” “Then maybe just make it a tad bit quieter,” Y/N whispered back, life having returned to the girl’s form full force. “How do you propose we do so?” “I would say you moving a bit further away would be a great start. It’s not easy to keep my heart steady when the proximity of your face is making it beat faster.” The boldness of the statement made Loki pull back and look into Y/N’s eyes. “Am I making you nervous?” He gave the woman a confident smirk, but in truth, he was breathless to the point of being dizzy. The god’s brain couldn’t comprehend the fact she was being so honest and blunt about her feelings. That she could possibly reciprocate. “You know,” her fingers squeezed his and Loki felt warmth rush through his veins, “for being the God of Lies you sure as hell are shit at spotting when people are desperately hiding their feelings, let alone acting as if they possess none.” Loki’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s out of the water. “You didn’t say anything,” was what he was able to come up with. If he could’ve, he would’ve facepalmed himself, but Y/N’s small laughter brought him back to reality right when her palm grasped around the collar of his green silken shirt and pulled him down. Her lips moved against his in lazy pace, allowing the pair to enjoy and memorise every second of the sweet kiss. Only when Y/N broke them apart, taking a deep gulp of air did Loki realise what had just happened. And it made tears spring to his eyes. “I thought I lost you,” he choked out, looking over at the woman whose joyful expression had morphed into that of a frown. “I thought I would have to go on with my life having been unable to confess, to kiss you. To show that I love you.” Y/N’s hand moved to cup Loki’s jaw as she tenderly stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Then from now on I want you to know- I love you Loki. And whatever happens, I’ll always pull through.” She smiled before pressing their lips together again. “After all, I now have one more reason to live.” A faint smirk etched itself on Loki’s face as she wiped away one last tear. “And what is that, Princess?” “You, my Prince.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines @luluthegreatandterrible @bambamwolf87 @drakesfiance @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers

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attackofthezee · 6 years

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STUCKY REC LIST 10/6/18

I realized it’s been a bit since I did a rec list! I link to fics I’ve read and enjoyed over the week in my weekly writing round ups, but I don’t tag those posts as fic recs (it feels a little too self promoting to tag something about my own writing with fic recs, I can’t seem to do it) soooo I feel like it doesn’t count. So here, have a list of fics I highkey recommend right now. They’re all beautiful majestic fics and everyone should read them.

The Heart of a Dying Star by layersofart (layersofsilence), velleities

As ancient legends have it, mighty magical weapons can be forged in the heart of a dying star.

Wanda, driven by her desire to avenge her brother’s death and backed by Hydra and their secret plans, uses ancient magic to knock a star down from the sky.

Halfway across the land, Steve, the Captain of the Avengers Guard, finds a fallen star named Bucky.

Do you want to feel like you’re reading a fairy tale? Because like, this fic feels straight up like reading a fairy tale. It’s wonderful and soft and also like vaguely a Stardust AU while not actually being a Stardust AU and tbh it’s wonderful, just wonderful. Go read it and fall in love with Star!Bucky and total sweetheart Steve Rogers just like I did.

Howitzer by spacebuck

Bucky Barnes, figure skating champion, is forced to switch his skates for hockey ones when he leaves for college. Problem is, he's never played hockey before, and now he has to be good enough to get the scholarship he needs. Enter Steve Rogers, Carter University Men's Hockey player, who's decided that he'd do anything to get this guy on his team.

Cue five am runs, overwhelming classes, new friends, plenty of snow, and a sport that's fast becoming a way of life.

This fic has been on my To-Read List for approximately six thousand years, and part of me regrets not reading it sooner while the other is really glad I waited because I was reading it while having a rough week and guys, it was like the cure to my overdramatic issues that week. I like hockey a decent amount because it’s dudes being mildly homoerotic on ice and I find nothing bad about that, but I don’t really know about hockey, y’know? And after reading this I felt like I knew about hockey, which was a pretty fantastic experience tbh. I haven’t felt that feel since my fave fic back in Bandom days left me super interested in rugby for a while. Also the relationship between Steve and Bucky in this is fucking beautiful, and the descriptions of the games left me feeling incredibly invested in them and the author deserves literally all the love for that.

What's left behind by Niitza

The thing was, after waking up in that new century, that strange future where nothing and no one was the same, not even himself, it had never occurred to Steve to wonder again if the effects of the serum were permanent.

Catch me outside perpetually screaming about this fic. It’s told in chunks of 200 words and while I found myself inevitably wanting more of every chunk it also worked so well for this fic and is also something I admire because while I believe in brevity, I also have absolutely zero self control and if a scene wanted to be 500 words I’d end up writing 500 words. It’s just, it’s SO GOOD, and if you’re like, super bad at focusing like I am the way it’s told is a surefire way of catching attention and sucking in. It’s just really beautiful and wonderful and I recommend that you don’t take my word for it and go read it to find out for yourself.

Keep the Torch Lit by thepartyresponsible

“Logan,” Charles says, delicately. “Do you know the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier?”

“Nope,” Logan lies, easy as anything. “Haven’t heard a damn thing, Chuck.”

“Logan,” Charles says, “have you forgotten I’m a telepath?”

“Well,” Logan says, a little less pleasantly, “I sure forgot you’re a Goddamn nosy son of a bitch.”

Listen, okay, this fic is not Stucky, at least not technically. Technically it’s Logan/Bucky with past Steve/Bucky but like even the Logan/Bucky isn’t really the focus and if you want to (like me) it’s definitely possible to read future Stucky into this fic. also this is my rec list and I do what I want ya’ll. The focus on this isn’t the shipping, and tbh that’s what makes it so glorious. The focus is on the goddamn glorious motherfuckin Wolverine, aka the love of my life since I was a wee lass watching the x-men animated series back in the 90s and falling facefirst into simultaneous crushes on both Logan and Rogue. Biromanticism ya’ll, it started early. This fic is hysterical. Logan’s voice is so spot on and so very LOGAN that every line manages to be grumpy and hysterical and also reveal that hidden layer of just caring too much that I really believe is like, the true hallmark of a well written Logan. He doesn’t want to care, but he does care, and that’s like the crux of all his issues y’know? That’s why he takes in asshole super soldier assassins that half the world is after when they give the shitty reason of ‘war buddies, you gotta.’

I could write several paragraphs on my epic love for this fic but I feel like the biggest reason to read it that I can give is that I’ve now read it three times and as a person who barely ever reads things even twice, that’s a huge thing for me. Also it has an appearance of a Charles who’s kinda a dick and tbh that’s how I love my Charles.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, if you can stand Bucky being even hinted at being with someone other than Steve, and if you don’t for some strange reason hate Wolverine (which if you do, who hurt you????) then go read this fic. It’s 4400 words of fucking brilliance.

Baby You Should Stick Around by neenya, nephropsis

If somebody had told Steve he and Bucky would end up raising Bucky's clone as their son, he'd probably have- wait, no, he wouldn't have done anything, because nobody would ever have said that.

And yet. Here they are.

Listen, this is one of those fics that I opened up expecting something fun and lighthearted and y’know, just a normal kidfic. What I got was 33k of a seriously beautifully written fic that gave me some seriously intense feelings. It was not what I expected whatsoever and it was all the better for that. I, personally, need to occasionally open up something I don’t expect to make me feel and then experience all the feelings because I am in the words of my former therapist ‘a shaken up soda bottle, building up pressure and just waiting to explode.’ True story. MY PERSONAL ISSUES ASIDE, this is beautiful and sad at times but with like, a really wonderful ending that made me feel A LOT OF THINGS. (The point of this is that this fic made me feel a lot of things. Like just, a lot of things. So many things) And there is this certain quality to the writing, at least to me, that really lets you feel the fact that Steve is having Issues and Steve is not realizing these Issues, and because of that he’s not able to be entirely present in this life that he has with Bucky. It’s wonderfully unique, and wonderfully written, and while not one I can reread super often (because of those aforementioned FEELINGS) it is seriously such a quality piece of work and one I’d somehow never stumbled upon despite it being written four years ago.

Black Dog by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)

So long ago the details were lost to time, people began creating guardians of the dead. They were made from dogs, dogs who were buried in graveyards before anyone was laid to rest, their spirits arising as black dogs, bound protectors of the human dead.

Steve had always wondered what would happen after he died. He hadn't expected the answer to be 'wake up in the cemetery he'd been buried in', but here he was, some kind of ghost, and he could see the trees through his hands. It wasn't so bad, and he wasn't alone—a sleek black dog, golden eyes glowing bright, was happily waiting to greet him.

Decades later, on what was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful, definitely-not-life-changing walk through the woods, Bucky stumbled across an abandoned cemetery and into the impossible.

(It's a ghost story and a love story and a story about dogs.)

I’ve talked about my love for absolutely everything leveragehunters writes, I know I have, but oh my god, Black Dog hits it out of the goddamn park. There’s A GOOD DOG! AND STEVE IS A GOOD DOG EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT REALLY A DOG! And Laika! I GENUINELY CRIED OVER LAIKA! And I DON’T OFTEN CRY OVER FICS!! I just, this was so beautiful and there’s always something so special about leveragehunters’ world building in their urban fantasy and magical realism fics in that it never feels heavy handed, never feels like I’m getting a bunch of info dumped on my head, but I always leave the fic feeling like I’ve seen this brand new world and understood it in the way the characters do even if that world is just a little bit left of the one we’re in now.

Also this is just a really good, nice fic to read while curled up with one’s dogs so y’know, if you’ve got dogs, definitely have them nearby to love on while you read this. It makes the experience like 1000x better.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Picture me screaming like a pterodactyl every time I even think of this fic. I kept seeing this fic, kept seeing it recced everywhere, kept scrolling by, kept seeing it recced by people who’s work I love and read and admire, and KEPT SCROLLING. And then finally, finally I decided to devote myself to 70k of what I assumed would be a lot of emotional pain. I was right. This was painful to read, the parts in Bucky’s pov especially so, but it was also so, so, sooo very good. I found myself clicking to the next chapter as quickly as I could and wanting to sink right back into it if I had to go do something. It’s just, it’s so good, and if by some chance you haven’t read it yet do yourself a favor and don’t be like me and keep scrolling past it.

#fic rec #stucky fic rec #stevebucky fic recs #stucky #captain america #marvel

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mamepwrites · 5 years

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A (kind of) review on Dragon Ball Super, and DBS: Broly

Let me start this by stating that, like many people, I've been a fan of Dragon Ball since childhood. So when the Battle of Gods movie and Dragon Ball Super were announced, I was ecstatic in getting to enjoy more Dragon Ball.

Long story short, while I enjoyed Super during its run, I started to realize its flaws more and more in hindsight. Inevitably it must be compared to its predecessor Dragon Ball Z, as Z is arguably the defining work of the franchise. After all, if Z wasn't so popular, reshaping the series from its adventure roots in the original Dragon Ball into being much more focused on fights constantly increasing in scale, then we wouldn't have had the continuations that were GT and Super. Nearly all of the franchise's derivative works in film, video games, merchandise, et cetera come from Z more than anything else.

Anyway, I came off of Super disappointed that the show felt so underwhelming. I felt like so much of it lacked the drama that Z had. Super succeeded Z on a surface level with its exciting battles and new transformations. They're what you immediately think of when you think of the Dragon Ball franchise, after all. But I can say with complete confidence that Super, for the most part, lacked the character drama that made these fights and transformations constantly increasing in scale so engaging. My one exception to this is the Future Trunks and Zamasu arc. With the overt introduction to the world of higher gods in the Dragon Ball universe(s), Zamasu was the optimal response to the changing scale of setting as a villain and antagonist, showing how these gods and supposed overseers of their places in the multiverse could go wrong and how the lines between good and evil, right and wrong, and justice and oppression can be so thin that you might not even notice when you've crossed them.

The Universe Survival arc forming the latter chunk of the show takes a much greater presence, having been alluded to since the show's early Tournament of Destroyers arc, and the idea of it reminded to the viewers in the Future Trunks and Zamasu arc. With eighty contenders representing eight universes, grandiose battles are a given, with the fights featuring big name contenders being the most anticipated. All of this would lead to an impressive final fight between our protagonist Goku and his greatest enemy thus far, Jiren, who is rumored to be even stronger than a God of Destruction. It's natural that the show would reach this point, seeing as its first new primary character to the franchise Beerus be the new standard for the heights of strength, and then have the show culminate in his power levels being surpassed in some way. Dragon Ball Super carried that theme fairly well, if nothing else. However, the focus on this theme of ever-growing power and having fights take center stage really took away from some important things, and that's character and soul. It's what I felt Dragon Ball Z had that Super lacked. Behind characters like Frieza and Cell were legitimate malicious threats to peace and life. Frieza was a galactic emperor whose freely showed off his talents as an oppressor and genocider. Dragon Ball Z's introduction of the Saiyan race immediately led to the revelation that their people were destroyed, and following the introduction of the Saiyans came Frieza, who directly caused the end of their race. So while we have character goals and motivations in the Namek saga that have nothing to do with dealing with Frieza (Krillin, Bulma, and Gohan travel to Namek to revive their friends killed by Nappa and Vegeta, while Frieza wants the Dragon Balls for immortality), it's the clash of motivations involving the Dragon Balls themselves that ultimately lead to the fight between Goku and Frieza. And to have Goku, a lower-class Saiyan runt sent away from the destruction of his planet, become the strongest Saiyan of legend and be the one to defeat Frieza... you have to admit, there's some poetic quality in that. Goku doesn't defeat Frieza to avenge his species, he only becomes a Super Saiyan through pure rage after Frieza kills his best friend. The Namek saga of Dragon Ball Z features some of the best fights in the series -- not solely because of how cool and powerful everyone looks and is chalked up to be, but because of the drama behind each fight. The Android/Cell saga continues to carry this torch, with the Z Fighters trying to prevent their world from ending up like Future Trunks's timeline, and eventually a worse threat in the shape of Cell, whose threat constantly takes humanity and Earth mere inches from extinction and destruction.

And it's this drama that Super sorely lacks, and part of it can be blamed on Super taking place in the time of peace between the end of the Buu saga and the finale World Tournament. By then, Vegeta has already completed his redemption arc, a slow-bake that occurs through the passage of time and his marriage with Bulma and rearing of Trunks (both the ones from the future and the present). Goku returns to Earth as its first line of defense out of necessity after having willfully remained dead after the Cell saga, in his third lease on life. Beerus wanting to destroy Earth out of either lack of pudding or a Super Saiyan God is an incident that carries no weight or genuine malicious intent behind it. Frieza's revival is put to an end just as quickly as he came back. The Tournament of Power's erasure of most of the universes is quickly reversed -- and depending on whether you keep up with the television serial or the comic, this was expected by the tournament's holders. To summarize, Super has lacked a true major villain (aside from Zamasu), and in its stead keeps gods who hold the threat of destruction and erasure over the heads of universal populations, solely because it's easily expected of those in the positions of gods.

Now, onto Dragon Ball Super's first official film: Broly. I have to admit, they did wonders for Broly's character in giving him a backstory that's more than just him getting angry at another baby crying. Broly and Paragus have motivation in revenging upon Vegeta, for his king father's exiling of them. Frieza, this time around, is reduced to standing on the sidelines, serving as the catalyst for bringing Broly, Paragus, and Vegeta together, and only wanting the Dragon Balls for a frivolous wish. The first half of the movie was great for showcasing the new Broly and quickly garnering the viewer's affection for him as the story's (sort of) main character. However, after Broly and company land on Earth, the movie quickly defuses into a series of fights for the sake of fights. (Kinda like Goku, I guess.)

Vegeta responds to Broly and Paragus's hate for him with his fists in kind, as is natural. However, none of this issue is resolved in any way. No one ever brings up King Vegeta's exiling of Broly again, and Paragus never gets the chance because he's promptly killed by Frieza to push Broly into becoming a Super Saiyan. The blind rage of the Legendary Super Saiyan form is a weakness for his character, and not just in the way of Super detailing it to eventually destroy the user the more they fight and well up with power. This blind rage prevents Broly from being a character with motivation behind his punches, and makes him more of a walking power level like Jiren and his flimsy backstory. I should say that Jiren's motivation in getting a wish through Dragon Balls (however ambiguous said wish was kept in the television serial) is at least something of a motivator, however irrelevant it was to the conflict of the Tournament of Power itself. Broly on the other hand loses any rational thought and only wants to destroy anyone he sees.

Next up comes the issue of Gogeta's introduction to the canon of the main Dragon Ball timeline. I was looking forward to this as any Gogeta fan was, and was excited for a fight between Gogeta and Broly ever since the opening animation to Dragon Ball Z: Budokai 3. However, while the fight itself felt great, I thought there was little in the way of justification for Goku and Vegeta to fuse aside from Broly's overwhelming strength. For characters like Goku and Vegeta who dislike fusing because they want to rely on their own strength, the amount of time given between their transformations into Super Saiyan Blue and when they flee and later become Gogeta was very short. Seeing as Super Saiyan Blue became the relative standard for fights in Dragon Ball Super, not seeing Goku and Vegeta being pushed to use the Kaioken technique and Blue Evolution form respectively to attempt to contend with Broly was a letdown. It could have really cemented just how strong Broly was, likely even stronger than Jiren, who bested both Goku and Vegeta together in said forms. Still, in a film you have to abridge some things. Maybe I'm overreacting for this one bit. After all, it did take a while for Goku and Vegeta to agree on and successfully perform the fusion. Still, it felt like glorified fanservice. Gogeta didn't get much in the way of defining personality traits to distinguish him from his Potara counterpart Vegito. Previous iterations of the character did better. Gogeta in Z's 12th movie, Fusion Reborn, was shown to be about business, immediately becoming a Super Saiyan before the viewers could even see his base form and taking down the film's antagonist Janemba in well under a minute of onscreen action, only cracking a smirk at the demon kid who causes the incident in the first place. The brevity of the fight is dissatisfying, but was enough to showcase his differences from Vegito, who joked and played around during his fight with Super Buu, and purposefully acting the fool. Super Saiyan 4 Gogeta in Dragon Ball GT had much more screen time, and played around more (to his detriment), showing off the hubris of an ultra-powerful character. This time around in Super: Broly, all we saw in regards to personality for Gogeta was him wanting to seem cooler with a name, and is arguably similar to his Fusion Reborn incarnation, only spread out over several minutes.

In the end, I feel like Dragon Ball Super: Broly was did a fair job at introducing new things, but failed in filling up those things with proper narrative substance. I don't think this movie stands up on its own as a film I'd go out of my way to see if I wasn't a Dragon Ball fan. But in regards to Dragon Ball films in general, Dragon Ball Super: Broly likely stands as the best among them.

#dbz #dragon ball super #dragon ball super: broly #dragon ball super broly #broly #gogeta

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heyhowyadoingpally · 6 years

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it’s been forever since i’ve done one of these, huh?

i figured i’d bring this little series back from the dead (pun intended) for october, but i’m not gonna be looking at one pokemon at a time - i’m gonna do mass reviews.

that’s right, i’m going to do a bunch of super quick, rapid-fire reviews of pokemon. more specifically, different pokemon types. even more specifically, three pokemon types.

i’m gonna review all - yes, all, including half-types and secondaries - the posion, dark, and ghost types, in that order. i would have thrown in one more, like bug or psychic, but i think i have enough as it is to last until halloween. although, if there’s a good enough response and, for whatever reason, a demand for either of those two types, i might do one more.

just to clarify, if a pokemon is two of the types i’ll be reviewing, i’ll be placing them in the review of their first type. i.e. if there’s a ghost/dark type, i’ll be putting it in the ghost type review.

yes, these are going to be LONG fucking posts. so sue me.

with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Spooky Halloween Special Part 1: Pure Poison

#023 - Ekans

there really isn’t much for me to say about ekans. he’s really a product of the first-gen’s shtick, which was having the first chunk of the pokemon be more like mundane wildlife than anything else. and that’s something i’m more than okay with; you need mundane wildlife to balance out shit like fire-breathing anteaters and living, floating magnets.

that being said, i adore ekans’s design. there may be a good amount of pokemon out there that are based on real-world animals, but not many of them heavily resemble the animal they’re based on.

ekan’s look is so subtle yet it just works, from the reptilian eyes to the ring around his neck(?), and even the rattle at the end of his tail. hell, i never even noticed the thin lines going all the way down its body until now! maybe they could be segments that somehow help is slither around easier? who knows!

RATING:

i love ekans, but it’s not something that i would absolutely go crazy for. i gave it the extra half-point because, again, it’s one of the cooler “realistic” pokemon, imo.

#024 - Arbok

in the simplest of words, arbok is just plain awesome.

making ekan’s next stage be a cobra just seems fitting: a pokemon as “average” as ekans definitely would evlove into something weirder than a typical snake, but not too weird. cobras are pretty weird, but not too weird. it goes hand in hand.

it’s a little sad that arbok doesn’t retain some of the subtle qualities its predecessor had, like the eyes or the big ring, but it makes up for it with the kickass hood. i’m sure like everyone knows this, but in the first few games the little design on arbok’s hood differed slightly, because they’re arboks from other regions.

RATING:

again, i love its look, but it’s not an absolute favorite.

#029 + #032 - Nidoran

i vaguely remember how awesome i thought the idea of this one pokemon with genders was. of course, now pretty much every pokemon has some minor detail that differentiates their sex.

i love their cute little faces!!! they’re like adorable little rabbit-things with poisonous barbs!

oh, yeah! they’re poison types! so poison is incorporated into their design, right?

...kiiinda?

the pokedex states that nidorans have poisonous barbs sticking out of their backs, but they don’t really look like barbs. they seem more like really dull dorsal fins or something. like, if your tried to hug one of them the most pain you’d get is an uncomfortable poke more than anything.

RATING:

a neat concept for a pokemon, but the execution of the “poison” aspect didn’t really shine through.

#030 + #033 - Nidorina and Nidorino

these two changed, and for the fucking better.

i love the idea that when certain pokemon evolve, it’s really just them maturing, and the nidos did a fantastic job with their second evo. they look a lot more dangerous, but still not quite “barb-y”. i do love how the nidorino seems to naturally crawl on all fours while nidorina stand on her hind legs. it’s those subtle little things that i like.

RATING:

tbh i really don’t have much to say about these guys that i already said about their first forms. they’re more-or-less improved versions of both nidorans.

before we continue and before you say anything, yes, i’m one of those types of people who have a hard time hating any pokemon. the worst you’ll hear from me is that i’m not a fan of certain ones, but they’re nice efforts nonetheless. plus, i have a strong affinity towards the types of pokemon we’ll be looking at, anyway, so this is more of an excuse for me to gush about cute monsters.

#088 - Grimer

GOD where do i fucking begin???

this was the starting point for when pure poison (not quite yet for the half or secondary type!) pokemon really started to take advantage of the concept of...well, posion.

basically, from here on out, i’m going to be gushing a lot about the pure poison pokemon.

if you’ve been following/have known me long enough, you’ll know that i fucking adore any sort of outlandish, blobby monster. sure, most of those kinds of monsters out there are just the same thing over and over, but for some reason i never get enough of them. hell, my favorite animal is basically just a blob with a vague body shape!

everything about grimer is just so pleasing to me: the dopey expression, the little glob of goop dripping from its lip, the nubby hands...it’s even purple, my favorite color!

not to mention the fact that grimer is literally living sludge, one of my all-time favorite concepts for a monster. probably bc i associate any kind of goop monster with swamps, and you all know how much i fucking love those. i think we need more sludge/toxic monsters in our lives. i know i do.

RATING:

let’s face it: you all saw that coming.

#089 - Muk

you know, i didn’t think there was any way that you could improve a living pile of toxic waste, but game freak proved me wrong.

muk took everything i love about grimer and somehow made it significantly better. it genuinely feels like a grimer that grew larger and nastier through years of absorbing more waste and refuse. the strand of slime connecting the “lips” is a really neat touch!

the more serious expression on its face makes me think that it hates its own existence, like it somehow just knows that it should not be alive. it’s a sad idea, and surprisingly not the darkest ideas that the pokemon franchise has ever delved into. but we’ll probably get more into that with later entries in this series.

RATING:

grimer and muk were, for the longest time, my favorite pokemon, period. that was, of course, until a certain gen 5 creature was introduced and immediately stole my heart. but, again, that’s one of those things we’ll get to soon.

#109 - Koffing

if i had never gotten into pokemon, or even monsters in general and you tried to describe certain creatures to me, i’d think these were some of the dumbest, most batshit ideas ever put on paper. koffing sounds like a weird or dumb idea, but the way a floating orb that spews toxic gasses is presented here is so fucking original.

i’ve always found it fascinating that we associate the color purple with anything poisonous. i suppose it stems (no pun intended) back from certain toxic plants having purple coloration? idk, i’m not an expert on these things.

as a little kid, i loved koffing, which i guess goes to show that i haven’t changed since then lmao. but what’s not to like about it? that’s a face that you can never say no to. koffing wants some cash so it can go out with its friends? go ahead! it wants to have pizza for dinner tonight instead of a casserole? sure thing!!! it wants to start an underground meth lab to rake in the dough to support its family? right on!!!

i especially adore the little skull-and-crossbones on its belly(?). it’s a really neat, subtle touch that didn’t even need to be on there but works so well. i especially love that it’s not just a standard jolly roger kind of crossbones that you’ll often find on monster/creatures that’re poisonous; it’s just the vague shape that makes it really feel like an animal might be able to evolve such a strange pattern on its body, which fits the semi-grounded-in-reality feel gen 1 was trying to go for.

fun fact: some real-life animals, especially insects and arachnids, have skull-shaped patterns on their backs!

RATING:

a perfect example of a pokemon that exemplifies its type.

#110 - Weezing

weezing is either a really ingenious - yet dark - metaphor, or just a really, really cool concept. or both.

i’m probably not the first person to think of this outlandish idea, but i think weezing might be some sort of weird, “hidden message” behind koffing and, more specifically, weezing.

lets take a look at this round, adorable, little cutie:

it’s associated with toxicity and poison

it produces a gas that’s unpleasant to inhale

it has a second “head” growing on its side (with a cute little “starting crossbone”!)

both faces look quite glum

now, what in real life relates to to these aspects? what thing or things in real life are associated with being harmful or toxic; produce a gas or gaslike substance that, when inhaled, is unpleasant; can cause those exposed to it to develop large, potentially lethal lumps inside their body; and makes people quite glum?

hmmm....i just can’t think of any real-world items that could cause such dangerous, life-altering side-effects.

jokes aside, i’m more than certain i could just be pulling this connection with tobacco out of my ass. it sounds more like one of those edgy creepypastas from back in the day than anything else.

RATING:

this is the closest i think we’ll ever get to a pokemon with a fucking tumor, and whether or not it was intentional weezing’s design reminds me of real-world issues.

(m)

(f)

#316 - Gulpin

after koffing and weezing, pure poison type pokemon were few and far between. it’s a shame, since a lot of the pokemon that are solely poison are just so damn cool, even when they don’t quite show off the “poison” aspects you’d come to expect.

at the same time, i’m glad we currently only have a few amount of pure poison types out there; it makes them feel more special, like a nice treat you’d get every-so-often.

the first pure poison pokemon (how’s that for alliteration!) to appear since gen 1 was gen 3. there was an entire generation that skipped out on having really cute babies. those were surely dark time. at least they up for that with an abundance of other cute pokemon.

that being said, the first pure poison we get after a long, dark and empty era is an absolute cutie! again, i’m a sucker for round, blobby creatures. they always just look so soft and huggable! i think if i lived in the pokemon world, gulpin would definitely be one of those critters i’d snuggle up with.

you know, i really don’t know much about gulpin other than its adorable appearance. i’d really like to find out why its a pure poison! maybe i should see what the pokedex entries from the games have to say about this little cutiepie:

o h .

RATING:

gulpin’s a really neat concept, but the idea of something small and cute that also has an insatiable appetite isn’t something entirely original, and nor is it the first time a character in nintendo followed that same idea.

(m)

(f)

#317 - Swalot

listen: i LOVE swalot. but it’s the kind of love where if i sort of bring that up in a conversation people immediately assume i love swalot because of the same reason that a good two handfuls of people do.

i’m sure you can guess why some people love swalot more than others based on both its name and its rather...erm....interesting eating habit:

i told you that pokemon can get pretty morbid.

i’m really not the sort of person who "points out” something made for kids but with some sort of “underlying fetish material”, but swalot here is one of those few things that make me raise an eyebrow just a little.

but, uh, let’s look at this big cutie in a different, more wholesome light, huh?

designwise, swalot looks fantastic. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i love evolutions that look like a genuine life cycle. i can see gulpin being this sort of nymph that grows over time into this huge, squishy, toxic thing with an insatiable appetite. it almost sounds like the premise of a 1950s b-movie.

even though it’s not a major change, i love the coloring. again, it gives me the impression that young gulpin’s flesh darkens with maturity into a swalot. it’s great.

a detail that i never noticed until getting the pictures for this review is that if you look verrrrry closely, both gulpin and swalot have a faint pattern all over their bodies. it reminds me of how light looks reflecting in the ocean, all broken up like that.

RATING:

potential vorebait aside, i really love swalot’s design, even moreso than gulpit.

#336 - Seviper

there aren’t as many real snake pokemon as i’d like to think, but the ones we do get are pretty rad.

while ekans and arbok have great designs and are always gonna be near and dear to my heart, they never quite felt pokemon-y to me. yes, they were in the first gen and are revered as classics, they seem just too normal to me, you know? like they were literally just purple snakes.

i’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but when you compare them to the outlandish creatures from later generations, they aren’t all that unique. i still love them to death, of course.

seviper, to me at least, looks like what you would mentally picture if someone told you that there was a snake pokemon: it retains the basic idea of a serpent, but takes some creative liberties.

idk why but i really love the eyes it has. they sort of compliment its almost-smile, like its just about to pull a harmless prank on someone and is anticipating the gag. what a smug bastard.

according to the every pokedex, seviper’s best quality is that the entire species has had an ancient rivalry zangoose, another pokemon, for years. from what i can tell, zangoose is supposed to be based off the real-life mongoose, so what we have here is the age-old battle between snakes and mongooses (mongeese?) in the pokemon universe. that’s pretty awesome. i wish they could find more ways to tie in real wildlife habits and instincts like that.

RATING:

overall a good bean with a good design.

#568 - Trubbish

ohhhhh man. ohhhhh boy oh man. we’re at my favorite evolutionary line ever. i’ll try to keep this as contained and condensed as possible.

i’m not sure what it is exactly about garbage monsters, but i adore them a lot. maybe it’s because you can get really creative with how you design the? idk.

i’m surprised it took until gen 5 to get a real trash pokemon. grimer and muk may have been associated with filth, but trubbish and garbodor are the living embodiment of garbage. like, you look at them, and you know exactly what their shtick is.

i’ve seen a few garbage bag monster before, but trubbish is probably the absolute cutest one i’ve ever seen! look at those big, curious eyes!!!! look at that cute overbite!!!!! look at the little feet made from the bottom corners of the bag!!! it’s such a cute little baby!!!!

unfortunately, not a lot of people share that opinion. and that’s okay. because you’re allowed to have your own fucking opinions on the internet. there’s some pokemon a lot a ppl like that i’m not too crazy for, so sue me. i’ve got my little compost child and that’s okay.

RATING:

is this cheating? i don’t think it’s cheating.

#569 - Garbodor

here it is! the best fucking pokemon to have ever existed!

you might be thinking i saved garbodor till the end on purpose, but i’ve just been reviewing these by the order they appear on the pokedex. besides, there’s just one more after this, so you don’t have to suffer much longer.

GOD i love garbodor so much. everything about it is so creative and fun and cute. i’m so glad it kept the face from when it was just a trubbish. what a cutie!!!!

i love how the garbage bag is sorta draped over its body, like the bag somehow filled up with so much trash that it burst open. i also really love how both of its arms are doing their own different things. it really gives the idea that garbodor wasn’t trying form a perfect body, just a body that works. but the greatest part of this huge baby bean are those cute little pigtails!!! god bless it for looking so cute!!!!!!!

i wanna hug garbodor so badly!!! even if it smells like garbage!!!!

RATING:

i love that funky little compost

#803 - Poipole (aka UB Adhesive)

i haven’t played ultra sun or moon, so the new pokemon in that game are still...well...new to me.

one of the new ultra beasts introduced in the games, poipole has already stolen my heart and i don’t even know it that well. it’s got all of my favorite color combinations rolled into one - blues and purples and pinks!

being an ultra beast, poipole hails from ultra space, and, apparently, from a city in ultra space called ultra megalopolis. jeez, game freak sure loves using the word “ultra”.

i really can’t say much since, again, i’ve never played either of the ultra games, but i like what i do see.

i would have wrapped up this review here, but looking at the pokedex entries for it turned out to be a fucking road trip:

poipole goes from adorably-loved to a fucking sociopath.

alright, i like this cutie even more.

RATING:

for some reason, i still get surprised whenever a new pokemon game has creative and original monster. you’d think they would have blown their wad in the first few gens, but so far they haven’t done so.

that wraps up the first part of this little “review series” next time we’ll be looking at both half-poison AND secondary poison, all in the same post. how terrifying.

...i’m sincerely sorry if you had to read through all of this

PREVIOUS POKEFART: Weedle Line

NEXT POKEFART: (it’s not out yet you dip)

#pokefart reviews #pokefart halloween

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bechloeficstuff · 7 years

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Best Quotes of Experimentation

Hey @redlance, remember that anon? That was me. My “collection” of your quotes sprinkled with my thoughts turned out a mess tbh, and it’s kinda really late, and way too long, but here you go anyways:

Best Quotes of Experimentation, aka The Bechloe Bible™. Chapters 1-35.

[or: what you should read if u love that fic but ur too lazy for a whole reread.]

Beca smiles a little, relieved, and tries not to shift under Chloe’s touch. She doesn’t find it comfortable, not exactly.” - Chapter 1 in the middle - because thAT’S THE FEELING THATS THE FEELING EXACTLY

“It’s fine.” She’s quick to say and now her smile is too wide, the wrong kind of bright. - Chapter 1 towards the end - “the wrong kind of bright“ really nails it. i love your word choice.

She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, because even though they know better than to expect an immediate explanation or apology – and she swears that it isn’t because she’s an asshole, just super awkward – Beca will still feel like she has to give one. - Chapter 2 relatively in the middle - you’re entirely to hashtag relatable, this is Not Okay™ (jk i lov u)

And Chloe loves this. Love being given the opportunity to sit back and take in moments like these. Her best friends interacting around her, the enormous sense of family and comfort that they give her. - Chapter 7 relatively at the beginning - friends fill my heart with warmth, as does this quote

“Two girls, one cup.” It leaves her in a rush and she covers her face with her hands the second she's finished saying it. Chloe's mouth actually falls open. “That's disgusting.” She gasps after a moment, sounding thoroughly appalled. “I know.” Beca sounds so forlorn and defeated, like she's committed some heinous, ignominious offence. Chloe thinks it might be the most adorable thing she's ever witnessed. - Chapter 7 in the middle somewhere - a good example about how abso-fucking-lutely talented you are in describing feelings and the little changes in them through facial expressions in so much detail without it ever getting boring or dry - also it’s really funny :D

So, um,” excellent start, “when you said that,” and her on and off eye contact is in top form today, “that thing about wanting to kiss me?” - Chapter 8, middle - made me laugh :D

“Sorry.” She mumbles, suddenly sombre, and brushes the back of her hand against her nose. “I just...” A sigh escapes her and she hates how sad and pathetic it sounds. She hates feeling like this; weak and worthless and mopy. Because God, she hates moping. More so when other people do it because it makes her all uncomfortable and she never knows what to do. She would love to be able to tell Chloe something other than the truth. Joke that she was waiting for the redhead so they could pick up where they left off in Stacie's car. “I didn't want anyone else to find me.” What comes out though, is the truth. Which is usually how things with Chloe go. - Chapter 11, lower middle - resonated within me

also: some comparisons or phrases i was too lazy to also copy+paste. like for example chloe or beca uttering something that was like a "drunkenly conceived lovechild between a whine and a groan" or something like that or:

The earrings, her tone, and what Aubrey had later coined as Beca's “fuck off smile”. - Chapter 12 at the beginning ...stuff like that u know. i really like how you put the words together so well (idk how to say that in good english. you obviously would know tho, and that’s the point)

And she only realises that Chloe is awake when she feels her press a smile into her shoulder. - Chapter 13, lower half - this fluff is giving me diabetes i swear to god

“I can't leave anyone alone for five minutes around here. You bitches all end up drunk off your tits or gayer than Elton John, God rest his soul.” Beca presses her face into her pillow. “Elton John isn't dead, Amy. - Chapter 13, lower half - bc that was fucking funny 😂

"You know that's what they all say, right? 'One thing led to another' and then bam." Beca makes the mistake of taking a drink from her straw as he speaks. "You're pregnant." And it almost results in what Jesse would refer to a 'spit take', but she manages to keep the liquid inside of her mouth. Just barely. "Yeah, um," she wipes her thumb across her bottom lip to catch the thin smear of dribbled drink, “weirdly? Not worried about that.” - Chapter 14, relative beginning - i think i snorted pretty badly when i read that and i feel like people don’t appreciate your comedic talent enough

Amy's face contorts under the strain of her determination and Cynthia Rose pre-emptively clutches at the oversized knit blanket that they sometimes have to throw over the Aussie to get her to calm her down. - Chapter 14, end of first quarter(?) - the amy related humor just kept getting better and better. your characterization of her is also scarily accurate, i doubt that the movie writers could’ve come up with better stuff tbh

but they haven't been able to come this far in their friendship without Beca learning how to read Chloe. Chloe's kind of like a well-worn paperback at this point, even feels a little ragged around her edges, and so Beca can probably see the panic Chloe feels herself spirally towards after her reaction. - Chapter 15, first half - i love love love good comparisons and metaphors

something rattles behind her ribcage, jostled by the term of endearment. - Chapter 16, last third - beautiful yet accurate description of that feeling

she can see clear sky blue eyes – mischievous, sincere; Chloe's natural state – staring at her over the tops of her knees - Chapter 16, last third - bc imagining that just made me fall in love with the amazing character that is your version of chloe beale all over again ugh god

“Oh my god, it's like I lose control of my body when I’m around you.” The words come out as a rushed whisper, once again without her conscious consent - Chapter 16, last third - bc it was an unexpected yet very pleasant plot point

Beca feels her pulse quicken. It's a familiar beat, one that inevitably starts up whenever she's about to make a move, because initiating things isn't usually within her comfort zone. - Chapter 16, at the end - bc you can just relate to that a lot as a reader

Chloe's protest is punctuated in all the wrong place by giggles that continually tug at the edges of Beca's smile. - Chapter 18, towards the end - really nice description

Because she is really, genuinely sore and Chloe does give truly magical massages and it has nothing to do with Beca missing the feeling of her hands on her, because that would be weird. - Chapter 19, beginning - Beca’s sad attempts at denial are gold material :D

“I was conceived on the steps of the Sydney Opera House.” - Chapter 25, lower half - because I could genuinely hear Rebel Wilson saying that in a PP movie. (see: frighteningly spot-on characterization of amy)

There are butterflies mating in her stomach, she knows it. - Chapter 25, towards the end - :D

She can still recall the first time it had stormed after her father's death. - Chapter 26, relative beginning - because you don't expect the end of the sentence and it hits you pretty hard. in the feels. am i ok? not really

And Chloe can't help herself; she twists her head around and brushes her nose against the soft skin of Beca's neck before straining just enough to place a kiss to the same spot - Chapter 26, towards the end - bc that wording "can't help herself" is so accurate

Beca, who whimpers into Chloe's mouth when the redhead presses closer and deepens the kiss, and sucks a sharp breath in when Chloe's hand closes tightly around Beca's arm. Beca, who lets Chloe kiss her for far, far too long given their whereabouts before jerking away. - Chapter 26, end - bc the timing and description and everything of that kiss shows the amount of tension between those two and it's just weirdly perfect idk

Generally, Chloe aggressively and shamelessly flirting the whole time they're on that couch in those moments is my jam

Beca feels fingertips wriggling into the gap at the junction of her thumb and forefinger, and turning her hand over. It's a gesture that has been familiar for a long time now, but lately the way it effects her seems to have changed. It makes her feel extra warm or something. Nervous. - Chapter 27, middle - because every line that subtly confirms that those guys are crushing on each other makes me giddy

Because she always needs that minute of pause it seems, to re-centre, to come back to earth after a moment with Chloe. Especially one like that. Involving hands and mouths, and Chloe telling her she looks good, which so hadn't been something Beca had been hoping to hear at all. If anyone asks. - Chapter 31, beginning - made me smirk. (see: Beca’s attempts at denial)

Chloe takes the silence with that same exact smile and Beca feels those earlier butterflies return, their wings flapping as though they're rushing through the Great Stomach Migration. She swallows the rest of the glass in an attempt to drown them. - Chapter 34, first half - i’m just such a slut for a funny yet good comparison tbh

'Word vomit' has been a term she's identified with a few times over the years and she feels it now. The acrid after-taste of having said something potentially damaging lingers in the silence that follows and it probably doesn't last that long, but it feels like a lifetime passes before Chloe speaks. - Chapter 34, lower half - never thought about the aftertaste comparison of word vomit and i like it

“I thought she was dead,” Beca manages to whisper through her laughter, once the older woman is definitely out of earshot - Chapter 35, relative beginning - hilarious scene :D

Okay so obviously there were more parts that I liked but during some Chapters I just wasn’t motivated to copy+paste everything. Also; I hope the way I cited the quotes is okay, I didn’t know how else to do it. And finally, sorry for my messy thoughts and maybe incorrect English, I’m not a native speaker but I try 😅

Okay, so. Concluding statement. This story made me feel so many types of good things, not only as a Confused Questioning Gay™ that could relate, but also as a reader and human. I’m in love with this story and your writing style and your three-dimensional characters. Every new chapter is so worth the wait, and I hope you don’t get too much pressure from the angry anons; they don’t deserve you.

Thank you @redlance so much for writing this story.

#redlance #experimentation bechloe #bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fic rec #best quotes of experimentation

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queenieships · 7 years

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im not super familiar with your ships, soo... number 1 (things you said at 1 am) from the mini fic meme with the ship you're most favouring right now?

Hey anon uhh so like this took me forever to do simply for the fact that I ended up turning what was meant to be a minific into a 4 and a half thousand word fic :> SO UH YEAH ENJOY THAT. I’d really appreciate it if people could read and give some feedback, I’m going to put most of it under a readmore since it’s just so long!! Warning for talks on mental health, an abusive father and just insane amounts of romantic and sexual tension :3c

@smoochesforseven

things you said at 1 am – Queenie and Davey

Black clouds swirled angrily, the moon a feint smudge of light against the Manhattan night sky. Rain tumbled from above, clattering loudly against the pavement and the rooftops, soaking anyone who dared roam the streets at such an ungodly hour.

Queenie was one of those daring people, shuffling as quickly as her bare and battered feet would take her. She’d never been out this late by herself, every noise frightened her to the core but she had come too far to turn back. Her hair was slick and plastered to her face, the delicate fabric of her nightgown soaked through and clinging to her body. Never had she felt so vulnerable, her feet were so bruised from running down the rough streets she wasn’t sure if they could carry her for much longer. She hated to think what would happen if the wrong person saw her, a soaked and vulnerable girl stumbling through the streets of lower Manhattan.

Queenie kept her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to keep herself warm – raindrops clung to her eyelashes, making it hard to see where she was. Her entire body ached, a cold, dull throbbing emitting through every limb. Water ran down her face, pooling over the curves of her lips and streaming down her chin. This was the craziest thing she had done and if not for the circumstances at home she would’ve regretted it – but standing there, thinking of her father’s face and how he feigned worry for her mental well-being, her feelings were only solidified. She had to be away from him, away from her home or Queenie didn’t know what she would do to herself. Her father’s comments were ringing through her ears and she reluctantly wondered if she truly was going mad.

She stopped for a moment and looked around, trying to recall the route they had taken on one occasion when Davey’s mother had invited some of the Newsies to their apartment for dinner. Though Queenie had gone with them she had never actually managed to step inside so even if her memory was good enough to get her there she had no clue which level they’d be on or which room would be his. She had been tempted to join them, wanting nothing more than to dine with her friends and be introduced to Davey’s family but a feeling of guilt had washed over her; she felt terrible intruding on his family and eating their food when they were struggling, especially as someone who had never known the strain of financial troubles.

She cursed her guilt for a moment before noticing a street sign that seemed far too familiar for it to be a coincidence. Her first steps were hesitant before she began almost jogging in the signs direction, her gut feeling telling her she was close. Surely enough, within minutes Queenie had stumbled upon the complex that she knew to be Davey’s home. It was a tenement, a series of very small apartments where families would be clustered together – those living here were certainly better off than kids like the Newsies but the living conditions still weren’t amazing, mostly from a hygienic standpoint. Each building looked almost the exact same, insanely tall with rows upon rows of tiny windows, some of which had washing lines strung up between them.

She could so easily identify Davey’s home because she remembered Race had put out multiple cigars on the outside walls and, whilst having to squint insanely hard due to the dark, she could see circular scorch marks on the wall and small clumps of ash. Queenie made her way to the back of the building, knowing there to be a fire escape that climbed up its length. Standing in front of the ladder she took a moment to remind herself how crazy this was, how she had no idea which floor or room would be Davey’s before gripping onto the slippery metal in front of her and beginning to climb, almost falling off once or twice with her feet struggling to support her weight against the pressure of metal bars. Queenie would get to a platform and peer through each window, hoping for some telltale sign or clue to let her know which room was the right one. She had climbed for multiple levels when she looked into a room that just felt right. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now and looking in she could see it was a small room with a desk, a set of drawers and a double bed that took up almost half the room. Her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest as her eyes set on a figure laying on the bed in a T position, legs dangling off the side with the back of their hands resting over their face. Queenie felt a pang in her heart, she knew it was him though small details in the back of her mind made her hesitate. Yes, this person seemed to be the correct height and build to be Davey but she also knew that he and his younger brother, Les, shared a room and yet the younger boy was no where to be seen.

Holding back her fear, Queenie rapped a knuckle against the glass, letting out a quiet gasp as the figure sharply sat upright. Their eyes met and her hand slowly dropped away from the window, feeling almost embarrassed. It was Davey. Despite her circumstances she couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him, vest and button-up removed leaving him in just his under-shirt and trousers which for reasons unknown was a look that made her heart flip. Confusion flashed across his face but it quickly changed to worry as he rushed over and pulled up the window, holding it open with one hand and leaning out of it slightly, face close to hers.

“What are you doin’ here?” He whispered, voice low but dripping with confusion. Queenie took a moment to respond, heart practically stopping now he was up close. Seeing him without his cap felt blasphemous, though his hair was dark and wavy and insanely cute to her. She could even see stubble forming across his jaw and she trailed her eyes downwards to get a better look of him in his state of undress, small curls of chest hair even poking out from the deep neckline of his under shirt. Truth be told, Queenie was reeling.

“I-I uh…” She stuttered dumbly, blinking rapidly in response to his attentive stare. Davey at first seemed like an awkward, withdrawn person but over time Queenie learnt how wrong that was – he could be passionate and angry, confident and intimidating at times and insanely intense – just like right now. His eyes bore into hers, waiting for her answer. “… Can I come in? It’s raining.”

Davey’s eyes widened instantly as he realised the situation and the weather outside. His thoughts were practically playing across his face – what was she doing here? Why was she sneaking up to his room in the middle of the night, especially a night as bad as that one?

“God, I’m sorry, of course! Get in here!” He pushed the window up further, gripping supportively onto her forearm as she climbed into the room, having some trouble with her balance not only because of her sore feet but also due to simply being soaked.

Once Davey had managed to help pull her in, he reached up and slid the window down, leaning over her slightly. He let out a breath once they were both standing there, just looking at one another. He wiped a hand down his face, trying to clear away his tiredness. “W-what are you doin’ here?” he repeated the question, waving his hand in gesture to his bedroom. His expression was tired, eyebrows crinkled together.

Queenie’s chest tightened for a moment, feeling guilty to trouble him and afraid that he was annoyed with her but a moment later a small smile played on his lips and his eyes, for the first time, fell from her face and took in the sight of her.

“Oh my gosh! Queenie, look at you!” One hand quickly flew up to cover his eyes, the other gesturing towards her torso. In one quick motion he turned his back to her and slapped the other hand over his face, adamant not to look at her.

“I know, Davey, I’m sorry but this wasn’t exactly a planned visit.” She spoke softly, almost cooing at his behaviour. His blushing face was obvious, even his ears and neck were slightly pink. He didn’t respond to her so Queenie tip toed over to him, gently placing a hand on his forearm, trying to peak up at him through his fingers. “David~?” she quietly sang his name, shaking his arm a little.

Davey widened the gap between his fingers, looking down at her with shocked eyes. “N-nope, no, I’m sorry.” He stuttered before closing the gaps again. “I can’t deal with this.” Still covering his eyes he walked away from her, blindly walking towards the set of drawers. Once there he crouched down, removing his hands from his face and began to rummage through clothing before pulling out a long, white button-up shirt. He held it in his hands for a few seconds before holding his arm out behind him, towards her.

“Just… put this on, please? You’ll catch a cold if you stay in that for long.” He said, his voice strained.

Queenie could tell from this tone of voice and his behaviour that that wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to change clothes – Her nightgown was made of thin, white material which had soaked through and clung relentlessly to her skin. If not for the fact that she had roamed the streets in the same state for God knows how long Queenie would be insanely embarrassed – plus Davey’s shyness was insanely cute to her, acting as a distraction from her own timidness.

She took the shirt from his hand, finding the material surprisingly soft. It hit her, the fact she was going to be wearing nothing but Davey’s shirt. The thought excited her immensely, checking to see that he was facing the other way before turning her back on him, peeling the nightgown from her skin and shifting it over her head. She looked over her shoulder for a moment, feeling more vulnerable standing there naked, wondering if he was peaking – he wasn’t. He was shifting his weight from his heels to his toes, shoulders squared and tense.

Queenie bit her lip and smiled, quickly unbuttoning the shirt before slipping her arms into the sleeves, the feel of fresh, dry clothing setting her mind at ease. She buttoned the shirt back up again with precision, standing there and relishing in how amazing his shirt felt on her body. The sleeves were far too long, material going far past her fingertips, the length of the shirt reaching down to her knees. Her legs being bare was a little discomforting but whatever could be seen then could probably have been seen through the material of her nightgown anyway.

“Alright Davey, you can turn around now.” She spoke quietly, playing with the long sleeves, flapping them around at her sides.

He peeked over his shoulder, almost mimicking her from moments ago. Clearly he was being cautious after her teasing earlier. She heard him let out a heavy breath before he turned to face her, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them, flickering over the sight of her.

“… Are you alright?” Queenie said, running her hands down her hips and looking down at herself, checking to make sure she hadn’t missed a button.

Davey scoffed, running a hand through his hair and stopping at the crown of his head. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine – just not used to having pretty, half-naked girls in my room.” His arm fell down limply to his side, Davey letting out a huff. Clearly the situation was a little frustrating for him.

She smiled and squeaked quietly, cheeks growing warm. He thought she was pretty? The statement alone made her terrible day immensely better. Clearing her throat, Queenie tucked her bangs behind her ear. “I’m sorry, David. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble, it’s just… I had to get away from home and this is the first place I thought to go.” His demeanour changed almost immediately, back straightening and eyes sharpened. “What do you mean? Why’d you have to get away?” his voice was soft but stern, wanting to show support for her but from the way his jaw tensed she could tell something in what she said had angered him.

“I-I um-”

“Queenie, if he hurt you, I swear to God-” Davey stopped himself once he heard his own raised voice. It was the middle of the night and his family were sleeping, Queenie would die if any one of them were to see them together in such a questionable state.

She watched him for a moment, not sure what to say. Davey stood with his hands on his hips, face pensive as he frustratedly bit his bottom lip. Sighing, he shook his head and plopped down onto the corner of the bed, slumping forward and resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands. He looked up at her, patting the space beside him.

Queenie could feel that the atmosphere had changed, her mouth suddenly feeling dry. Her legs felt heavy as she slowly lowered herself down next to him, hands in her lap as she switched between looking at him and at the floor.

Davey let out a sigh. “Now, I’m gonna repeat myself again. Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice quiet. His hand was placed gently on the small of her back, something Queenie noticed he did often but never mentioned – it was his way of being present for her, showing that he had her back without saying anything and they both knew the other appreciated the slight touching without having said it.

“… He wanted to send me away.” She started, eyes flicking up to look him in the face. “He does this thing sometimes where the words he uses sound nice and supportive but it’s all lies – the way he says it… you know it’s a threat.” she sighed, clasping her hands together. “He said that I was struggling. He thought I was hysterical and crazy and that maybe he should send me away for my own good.” she said the last few words mockingly. “Do you know what they do to women in asylums? I hear they lock them up in cages with no food or water, they’re not cared for they’re treated like rabid dogs and that’s what my father wants for me – so to answer your question David, no, he didn’t physically hurt me – not this time.” By the end of her rant Queenie’s voice had darkened and her eyes were half-closed as her heart stung.

“Well, are you?” Davey asked, scooting a little closer to her to wrap his arm around her waist and give her a reassuring squeeze. “Crazy, I mean.” He smiled at her, eyes bright and eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Cuz if you are then I must be crazy too because… you make more sense to me than any person I have ever met.”

Queenie stared up into his eyes, taken aback. She choked out a bitter laugh, closing her eyes and pushing her hand on his chest. “Oh, shut up!” she giggled lowly, gripping onto his shirt.

Davey chuckled and placed his hand over hers and holding it tightly. “No, I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever agreed with someone so much in my life – and for me? Agreeing with someone is a lot. All of your beliefs and the way you fight for them, it’s… it’s admirable and inspiring.” He exhaled deeply, looking down at their hands pressed together on his chest. “And I cannot lie to you. If I ever see you father face-to-face I will sock ‘im right in the jaw because I don’t know if I’ve ever hated a man more than I hate your father. He flat out is a villain and he treats you like you’re nothing and I am not about to stand for that.”

Her giggles subsided as he spoke, his words having so much feeling behind them – even Queenie, someone who struggled with immense self loathing, felt so important and… safe. She smiled, though her lower lip quivered slightly as her eyes began to water. Queenie leant forward, burying her face in the crook of Davey’s neck, her shoulders shook as she sobbed quietly, her free hand clutching onto his waist. Immediately he moved his arm from her back, sliding it up to around her shoulders and pulling her further into him. “I’m sorry, my emotions are all over the place tonight.” She mumbled into his shoulder, trying to focus on his presence – they’d never touched like this before and Queenie couldn’t help but feel like her hopes were being met, all the times she’d thought of Davey holding her in his arms and there she sat, enveloped in him; granted she was weeping into his shoulder but there had to be a downside somewhere.

“It’s fine. It pains me to admit it but I’d probably be crying too if my father did that to me.” Davey absent-mindedly played with the kinks of her chin-length hair, hesitating for a moment before placing a soft kiss on her head.

Queenie laughed quietly again into his shoulder, squeezing his waist. She found his attempts at upholding his masculinity funny, especially since she believed his behaviour throughout the night had been pretty manly, if not a little boyish at times. Her cheeks were burning after his kiss, butterflies in her stomach. There was a warm throbbing in her chest and she couldn’t help but smile at everything he said, just his presence made her feel safe and cared for.

She pulled away from his shoulder, hand still clutched tightly to his chest. She looked at their hands clenched together for a moment and nodded lightly to herself, courage bubbling through her chest. Her eyes flickered up to his, giving him a small smile before leaning up and softly pressing her lips against his.

For a second she could think of nothing else but Davey, all the trauma of the evening falling out of her mind as it was instead filled with images of him, his voice and his eyes and how she could feel the warmth emitting from his face and…

… He wasn’t kissing back?

Queenie pulled away from him, retracting her hand from his grasp. Her chest felt heavy like an anchor was dragging down her heart. Dread was washing over her, eyes stinging. Her hands started to shake nervously, she had never cared for someone as strongly as she cared for Davey and so many of her positive feelings and emotions were invested in him, in pining for him – if he didn’t want her…

“I-I shouldn’t have done that.” She stuttered, voice cracking. He didn’t like her back, didn’t want to kiss her and he probably didn’t want her there at all, probably lied when he said she was pretty. “I’m so sorry, David, I-”

In an instant his lips were smothered against hers, his hands clasping the sides of her face, fingers tangling in her damp hair. The force of his kiss almost pushing her over and, frantically, she grabbed onto the material of his shirt and pulled him closer to her, heart feeling like it was ready to explode.

Breaking the kiss for barely a second, Queenie climbed over his legs, knees on either side of him as she sat up straight in his lap, for once being higher up than him. Their lips meshed together once again, Queenie this time clutching his face as Davey pulled her body flush against his, both arms wrapped around her tightly. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, body tingling and warm. His fervorousness shocked her, though she had imagined kissing him so many times her fantasies had never managed to capture just how passionate he would be and how his kisses would make a knot form in her stomach.

Davey pulled back, eyes still closed, panting for breath. He was flushed, face warm under her touch. She ran her thumbs over his cheek bones, always taken aback by how handsome he was. From his brown eyes to his dark, tousled hair, from his hooked nose to his angular jaw. His tall, lean frame and long, pianist fingers fascinated her. His body language, his voice and not even to mention his personality, intelligent and witty, dominant and determined, surprisingly strong but caring in every way. When it came to David Jacobs her head and heart had never felt lighter and yet so full, thinking about him flustered her and impacted her capability to properly think and to have him there, blushing and panting underneath her? Queenie felt like the world was hers.

“I adore you, y’know that?” His eyes fluttered open, giving her a small grin. His hands were caressing her lower back, pinching the fabric of his white shirt between his fingers.

“Davey, stop it you’re going to make me cry again.” She laughed, using humour as she often did to hide the degree of her feelings. She was often embarrassed when it came to sweet moments like this, finding it difficult to say what she wanted.

Davey groaned and laid his head against her shoulder, kissing her neck. “I want you to be mine. I wanna protect you and care for you and fight for you – with you – and I just want to keep kissing you forever.” His words were breathy as he rushed them out. “I… I want you to be my girl.” his voice was so soft she would’ve struggled to hear it if not for him talking so close to her ear; his hand had found hers and their fingers interlocked.

Her lower lip quivered again but this time she didn’t laugh. She clenched her jaw as tears slid down her face, tickling her skin. Mimicking his actions from earlier, she buried her face in his hair for a moment before placing a kiss atop his head.

“I care about you so much, David. I don’t know if I want to bring you into my personal life, not with my family, not now. God knows what my father would do to you, or to me because I was with you. I-I don’t know.”

Davey raised his head slowly, brown eyes piercing hers defiantly. His mouth was open slightly, the bridge of his nose crinkling slightly as his features scrunched together in a baffled expression. The look in his eyes told her that he wanted to argue, to deny everything she said and to reassure her he could deal with it but he let the expression drop. He nodded his head slowly, kissing his teeth.

“Alright, well, an ‘I don’t know’ is better than a flat out refusal. You don’t have to give me a straight answer right away, you can sleep on it and take as much time as you want. You just gotta know that I care about you and I am willing to deal with your father if it means I can be with you.” He raised her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before patting her on the hip. “C’mon, you’re obviously not going home tonight and we should get some sleep.”

Her eyes were still watery but she gave him a fox-like smile. “You want me to stay the night, Davey~?”

He instantly scoffed and blushed at her words. “Hey! You are not allowed to get all flirtatious, not after kind of turning me down.” He gave her a smile, though she could tell he was dissatisfied.

She worked her way off of him, holding onto the bottom of the shirt to stop it riding up. At the same time Davey pulled himself out from underneath her, standing and stretching his long legs for a moment and letting out a sigh. The night had been crazy, full of developments and wild emotions and both of them were drained.

In one quick move, he reached back and pulled his under shirt off, over his head and onto the floor. He straightened out his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, turning and watching her as she settled into his bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Was taking that off really necessary?” She asked, though she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, fascinated by his slim and pale body. Though she had always found him insanely attractive she couldn’t help but plan to bake him as many pies as he could eat, just to put a little more meat on his bones so his ribs and hips weren’t quite so defined. Their class difference would always be obvious, even down to a physical level. Her body was plump and soft whereas his was thin and harsh, simply down to the availability of food. On the outside, they couldn’t be more different and their outward contrast was something that Queenie found wonderful and it was one of the things that had initially attracted her to Davey.

He slid in next to her with a smile. “I just wanted to show you what you’d be missing out on if you turned me down.” He half-heartedly flexed an arm, clearly a little insecure in his own physique. Queenie let out a sympathetic ‘aww’, running her hand down his arm before grabbing his wrist and pulling it as she turned to lay on her side. Davey scooted closer and spooned her from behind, his arm around her waist like she wanted. He kissed her ear, the two quickly saying goodnight before settling down to sleep. It was insane, the boundaries they had both passed that night and how much closer they had grown. She felt comfortable with him, though his confession nipped at the back of her brain with an urgency.

Queenie could never deny her feelings for him, which is why she wanted the best for him and she just didn’t know if that was her.

#THIS HONESTLY TOOK ME TOO FUCKING LONG I'VE BEEN WORKING ON IT FOR OVER A WEEK I THINK #I wrote a huge amount of this tonight so sorry if there's any mistakes!!#you can really tell I was running out of ways to say things by the end lmao #WELCOME TO THIS FIC THAT IS BASICALLY JUST QUEENIE BEING ANGSTY AND FINDING DAVEY HOT :)#Seize the Day;;#long post////

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