#the majority of the newer books have no passion in them

[zoeywades-spouse]

Can you imagine making a company that’s based around interactive and engaging books that were full of talking about serious issues (transphobia, trauma, mental health, misogyny, etc.) and that were truly immersive with complex characters and plots. And years later all those wonderful books have been pushed to the side and replaced with superficial, boring, and harmful books with the only goal to make money

The moment PB pushed away books like ILITW, TC&TF, ES and so forth and began writing books like Surrender, TNA, WB, etc., they lost their passion for writing complex and engaging books

#the majority of the newer books have no passion in them #you can tell the writers don’t really care #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #the crown and the flame #tc&tf #it lives in the woods #ilitw #it lives beneath #ilb #endless summer #es #surrender #surrender 2 #the nanny affair #tna #wolf bride #wb

[bixxelated]

ok listen. not to be an old man shaking my cane on my porch going, "kids these days" but the whole people inserting fics into AIs really is the final nail in a big line of symptoms that points to a problematic mentality in fandom these days--i dont particularly like using the word problematic considering how the internet has poisoned its meaning, but that's exactly what it is in this case

people, particularly the newer generations that are now growing up in modern day fandom, are so used to a content-centric internet regulated by fast-paced capitalism and viewer algorithms that they really forget that the roots of fandom itself is based on community. its obvious by the way they'd much rather have a fic finished by any sort of means, even unethical means instead of, yknow, actually engaging with the fans who all write purely out of passion or even creating for themselves.

and thats really the core of the matter i think. people dont want to engage anymore, and we're now seeing the bigger consequences of that.

ive seen that in that--when talking to my younger peers--there's an alarming uptick of people who dont read WIPs anymore, and prefer to filter them out so they can only look at completed stories.

i see it in the way that people are reblogging and commenting less and less, and prefer to stick to giving likes and kudos which, while appreciated, only gives the barest of feedbacks to the actual person behind the work itself.

i see this in the death of forums and independent spaces for community to talk to each other on the internet (save for a few exceptions like maybe reddit or discord or tumblr)

and i see it in the way that people are treating fandom artists of any kind like influencers, and their art like content when theyre really not and its really, really not.

fandom creators are not influencers. they can't be because theyre not getting paid for uploading any type of fanwork. because of the murky legality of it, almost all of it has to be entirely a labor of love, hence the reason why A03 doesn't allow you to upload commissioned fanworks or link to donation sites like patreon or kofi, and also why places like society6 and redbubble are very iffy on you selling self-made merch of any official series. thats a way to get sued by major corporations really fast.

which means that any type of fanwork uploaded does not work like a book series or a complete television series that you consume on netflix. it logtiscally cant be, because its all done on the artist's own time, and in the cases of physical materials like posters, stickers or zines, with their own money. so that means that a lot of the stuff you see uploaded is going to be uploaded piece by piece, at its own pace.

thats the whole reason fanworks need engagement. anything made ever out of love is a marathon race fueled by schedule availability, money and creative willpower, and very few people can make it far on their own. but if you have a whole bunch of people commenting on each others works, sending messages, theories, creating fan-made events like "[x ship] week" or even making fanworks of the fanworks, that is a big motivation to keep creating. its easy for fan content even, because other people are already familiar with the original work, so you're not creating something from scratch

the whole reason we post WIPs (aside from passion and a general sense of "hey look at this idea! isn't it cool?") is to get feedback that we can feed into the cycle of creation, but if that integral part of the cycle is empty, then creating will only last as long as our own interest does, or we'll move on to places or fandom where more people are engaging. and it takes a lot to really snuff that need for creation we all have, but it can come to that point for a discouraged creator

if you're frustrated by an unfinished project, dont steal their works plain and simple. and yes, if you're inserting a fic directly into AI, you're basically stealing it and then giving it away to major corporations for nothing. but you dont have to turn into that artist's personal cheerleader either (altho if you did we wouldnt mind) even just commenting is enough

ask your friends to comment. share the fic with a server. write about a line that stuck with you, write theories about things you think will happen in the next chapters, write about how you like how they did [x] with a character's reaction instead of [y]. heck, if you're able to, make a fanfic of a scene you like! some fanart! a comic even! no matter how old a work, people will always be happy to see people taking the time to engage with their work in a more meaningful way than a heart button, and it doesn't take much to stoke a passion that people already had for the original material.

i promise you, whatever is made with human hands will be infinitely better than whatever was stolen with some crummy AI.

#tp #long post // #goddamn this got long. woops #theres also the fact that inserting fanworks into an AI is tempting fate and making it that much riskier--legally--for fan creators #but thats a topic for another post #blogger comments #machine generation (ai)

[gummadianjani]

Tips When to Choose a pediatrician and How to Choose a pediatrician

Dr. Anjani Gummadi is a veritably well-known and Stylish Pediatrician in Hyderabad. She has over eight Plus times of experience and till now served over 1000 Happy Cases and parents.

We understand for a parent it’s a little delicate to find the Stylish Pediatrician for their sprat. Fortunately, we've. Anjani completed her MD in Pediatrics and DM from the prestigious institute of India, PGIMER. She's veritably compassionate with her cases and family, fluently approachable, and friendly. She strives to make early judgments and give the stylish treatment the foremost.   She also has numerous publications in public and transnational scientific journals and awards to her credit. With a strong passion for furnishing stylish treatment to children, she's always keen on learning about newer conditions, and advances in treatment. She's the stylish Child Specialist in Hyderabad.

Why Do You Need a pediatrician? 

still, with regard to their vitality and health, also good pediatric care is a must-have If you love your children and want to ensure that they admit the stylish possible treatment. Pediatricians are Doctors who specialize in furnishing youthful people with the medical attention they bear, from the moment they're born, up until the time they come grown-ups.

Pediatrics focuses on the well-being of children and aiding those, who suffer from health conditions, with recovering their health and conquering any obstacles that relate to this.  

The Cases That Pediatricians Treat  

A pediatrician will see lots of different kinds of cases, which will include children of every age. Also, they will treat children with special requirements. numerous medical professionals, who specialize in treating children, work on their own. Whereas, other professionals will work alongside a bigger medical platoon. Such a platoon might include fresh nursers, croakers, therapists, sidekicks, and several other medical experts.  

The job part of a pediatrician is wide-ranging. They carry out their duties constantly with the different cases they treat. They assess their cases and decide on the condition of their health, along with their development and growth. They're largely trained and able, regards to determining medical conditions. These conditions can vary from common snap and watery tips to observance infections and other kinds of ails.

Also, they can diagnose asthma, diabetes, transmissible conditions, and cancer. likewise, natural abnormalities can be directly assessed by a pediatrician, along with experimental issues. Following opinion, a child croaker will determine the type of treatment which is most applicable, and decide if the youthful case ought to be transferred to see a specialist.  

The significance of Pediatric Care  

Pediatrics is an immensely important field of drugs because there are health considerations with children that aren't a factor with grown-ups. In fact, it's prudent to a flashback that children aren't" atomic grown-ups". They suffer an array of emotional, cognitive, and physical changes from the time they're born, to the time they reach majority. Pediatricians have the training to help families during the normal ages of development and to diagnose any less egregious abnormalities which might arise. Accordingly, the treatment styles for child cases bear little resemblance to the styles used on grown-ups.  

piecemeal from enjoying the correct training and moxie, doctors who specialize in the medical conditions of children and babies have to be good at dealing with these age groups. For illustration, they've to display compassion, kindness, tolerance, understanding, and a good sense of humour.

Also, they've to be suitable to relax their cases and make them smile. The maturity of pediatrician treatment apartments and staying apartments will have bright, cheerful filmland on the wall and a generous force of books and toys for children to play with. This always helps to put nervous and spooked little minds at rest.  

frequently, a doctor who specializes in children will write conventions and define treatments and drugs to their cases. Also, they can order any tests to be carried out as they believe to be applicable. Cases of this include lab tests, like urine analysis and blood work, x-rays, and other types of individual protocols.  

Pediatrics is centred around communication between the case and the doctor still, communication between the parents and the doctor is a vital factor as well. A pediatrician will play their part in tutoring parents the effects they should know about keeping their children healthy and precluding ails. Also, Likewise, a pediatrician will tell guardians the best way to treat their youngsters when they truly do really become sick.

Several doctors who work with small children serve as advisers for other doctors in the same medical field. Also, it's common for doctors who specialize in children to inform other doctors in the healthcare profession about their area of moxie and instruct medical scholars who wish to pursue a pediatric career.  

No child enjoys a visit to the doctor still, a professed pediatrician will reduce the distress. However, and who has a nice station, you'll at least lessen the solicitude your child goes through If you can detect a medical professional who gets on well with children. Flashback, numerous croakers set up a practice and concentrate solely on treating youths for a reason. For parents, implanting a confident and comfortable perception in your child about medical issues ranks among the most precious affects you can ever do on them.  

The Advantages of a Specialized Adviser  

Whilst certain families conclude to have each member of their ménage visit the same doctor, there are a few unequivocal benefits to utilizing a pediatrician. In discrepancy to other medical assiduity professionals, they concentrate all of their sweat and moxie on the health of children.

They have a huge information about all that from developing agonies to the latest immunizations. Because of this, in the event that anything is irritating your child or child, and you're unsure whether it's significant, a pediatrician is the best individual to go to.

Although all children are different, they're analogous enough to be suitable to profit from some specialist child medical moxie.  

still, you're furnishing him or her with the occasion to admit a style of medical attention that's aimed at them, If you take your child to see a good pediatrician. For case, numerous doctors who specialize in children realize that utmost children won't want to visit their office, particularly for an injection. therefore, there are styles for talking to children about what will do, why they've to get it done, and the effects they should anticipate once it occurs. In discrepancy, whenever an adult attends an appointment for an injection, the maturity of medical professionals isn't exorbitantly bothered about making them feel happy to be there.

Once a child has had a nice experience with any kind of medical treatment or labour force, it'll make visiting the office in the future commodity that isn't shocking, or worth being nervous about. It sets a precedent that they will (hopefully) take into adulthood. However, also cast your mind back to the medical movables of your early nonwage, if you're still not convinced about how big an impact commodity like this can have. Consider whether the passions you associate with this are negative or positive and whether this has had any bearing on the station you have to these medical movables now.  

Due to the largely focused nature of the work carried out by pediatricians, utmost of them will know all about the rearmost developments in medical care for children. sometimes, new medicines are released that are much better at treating certain conditions than anything differently that has gone ahead. Also, occasionally it's discovered that a particular kind of drug actually makes an illness worse, rather than better.  

The probability is that a child doctor will know all about this and be suitable to bear these vital details with you, so your family can reap the benefits. However, also suppose about reserving a visit, If you're yet to take your child to a medical professional who specializes in the well-being of youths.

That way, you'll be suitable to see for yourself whether there are any conspicuous differences and whether changing over to a pediatrician will be worth it for you.

The Stylish rates in a Pediatrician Choosing the doctor for your child is one of the most important opinions you'll make. The pediatrician must work nearly with you for the health and well-being of your child. thus, it's important to seek out a pediatrician that carries some of the same values and rates that you do.  

Availability 

One of the most important rates you need in a pediatrician is one that's fluently accessible. Making regularly listed well movables is easy with the utmost services. It's when your child is suddenly ill that the availability of your pediatrician becomes most important.

You need to choose one that offers a 24- hour exigency line, as well as available sick movables each day. Most importantly, the staff should answer the phone instantly and keep hold times to a minimum.  

Support 

Chancing for a pediatrician that supports your opinions is important. In case, if breastfeeding is important to you, a pediatrician that feels that formula is" easier" is not the stylish choice for you. The stylish way to find out if your pediatrician will support your opinions is to solicit him before establishing your child at the office.  

Instrument 

All pediatricians must go through a medical academy just like any other doctors; still, some croakers carry fresh training instruments. For case, choosing a pediatrician whose board certified ensures that he completed three times of occupancy, which can give an inestimable experience to a doctor.  station It may feel that having a good station would be a demand for getting a doctor;  still, not all doctors have the same good station for their job.

You need to find a pediatrician who handles your kid well and causes him to feel great. You also want to ensure that the pediatrician you choose takes the time to answer your questions and address your enterprises. Good communication is pivotal when dealing with the health of your child.

Without a good station, you may leave movables feeling belittled and unhappy with your experience. Tolerance may be one of the most important rates for anyone who deals with children is tolerance. You want a pediatrician who'll be patient with your child, especially when trying to figure out what's wrong. youthful children frequently cannot articulate their requirements well.

A patient pediatrician can determine what's wrong with your child by asking questions constantly in different ways. Choosing the right pediatrician for your family frequently requires you to ask family and musketeers for recommendations and canvassing possibilities. To ensure that your child receives stylish care, you need to ensure that the pediatrician you choose meets your requirements and exhibits the rates of a good pediatrician.

3 Best Tips for Pediatricians to Ameliorate a Child's Health  

kiddies from a veritably youthful age need proper training and guidance. nothing is a graduate mama and parenthood is a gradational process where they learn the colourful ways of bringing up their child through experience and practice. This experience of freshness doubles up with the first child because that's your first experience managing a baby. But there are many effects that you need to keep in mind while managing a baby.

As a matter of some importance reach out to a pediatrician with whom you can trust your kid. The instructions and guidance from them help you a lot in shaping a good and healthy life for your child. counting fully on your pediatrician's guidance implies a huge responsibility on their shoulders.

The part of a Pediatrician  

The pediatrician knows the child's stylishly and they have a lot of experience in this particular field so you can trust their orders and instructions blindly. It's important to have faith in them and believe that their focus is on looking after the weal of your child.

The growing complications and erratic life are largely responsible for creating a lot of health hazards for kiddies’ moment. So much so that pediatricians' moments are a part of multitudinous childcare programs where parents enrol their kiddies to give their babies a healthy life. All of this easily shows that the job responsibility of a pediatrician is huge because of a lot of faith and stopgap girding what they say and the kind of guidance they instruct parents to give. So, is not it natural that pediatricians brush up their chops, moxie, and knowledge since they have a huge responsibility of shaping a child, the future of the hereafter?  

Tips Pediatricians can Apply to Ameliorate a Child's Health  

Pediatricians are good at their job but there are many ways they can ameliorate their practice and quite a sprinkle of effects that they need to know. Since there's no dearth of knowledge around them, the following tips will help them to ameliorate their ways of perfecting a child's health. Make sure you read them precisely and apply them all for the cause of the good health of a child.  

Develop a Bond with the Child's Family as well- Understanding the child is veritably important before you correctly assess the child's development and well-being. Before doctors can make a proper opinion it's important that they have a clear understanding of the life of the sprat's parents.

So, interacting with parents, understanding them, and agitating the patterns and traits of the child is important. Since this helps in making an exact opinion of the child. Establish a long-term Bond with Frequent Follow-ups- The relationship that you form with both the parents and the child isn't just a temporary bone that gets over post-diagnosed. It's important that you form a long-term bond with frequent follow-ups. Follow-ups allow your doctor to stay apprehensive of your child's well-being. So that in case there's any problem in the near future, it becomes easier for the pediatricians to give a proper opinion.  

Keep your discussion with Parents Simple and Clear- Pediatricians should always advise both parents to come together for the routine check-up of their kiddies. Parents coming collectively every alternate month with their children creates a lot of gaps in the inflow of communication.

This difference in communication gives compass to a lot of mis apprehension of words leaving both the parents and the child confused. Hence, it's stylish that both parents meet the doctor together and clear any confusion if.  

These three are some of the introductory yet veritably important points that numerous pediatricians and indeed parents do not give important attention to. But it's time for them to look into these matters and make the utmost in this situation since there's always room for enhancement. 

To Know more information about Best Pediatrician in Hyderabad and Child Specialist in Hyderabad Visit: https://pediatricimmunorheumatology.com/

Contact Us

Vengalrao Building,

Road No. 12,

beside Karur Vysya Bank,

Banjara Hills,

Hyderabad,

Telangana 500034

#best pediatrician in hyderabad #Child specialist in hyderabad

[stensgaardmcdaniel60]

How To Save Money With Lone Worker Alarms?

2/10 of a mile from home I tripped and fell resulting from uneven sidewalk. In Scotland, a lone worker fell via insecure flooring right into a storm channel and suffered life threatening and lifelong debilitating accidents. The invention Channel television present “Mythbusters” did an episode on cell telephones and airplanes. MythBusters. "Dangerous Using Phone in Thunderstorm." Discovery. O'Connor, Anahad. "The Claim: Never Talk on the phone During a Thunderstorm." The brand new York Times. Writing in 2015, New York County District Attorney Cyrus R. Vance Jr. noted "criminal defendants charged with all method of crimes, together with rape, kidnapping, robbery, promotion of youngster pornography, larceny, and presumably by those fascinated about committing acts of terrorism" appreciated the safety that the iOS eight working system provided them. Ojito, Mirta. "Danish Mother Is Reunited With her Baby." The brand new York Times. A sensible dog home could give the canine a preset amount of meals at chosen occasions of the day. Instead, most Morgans have a frame product of the wooden, which is one in every of many elements that give the automobiles a highly retro really feel. Children can be injured by automobiles in two major ways. The person household still has the foremost accountability for stopping youngster abduction. Saturn greeted the world with 4-door sedans and two-door coupes sharing a basic front-drive platform and main components. Riding a 106-inch wheelbase, these 4-door sedans and four-door wagons represented Ford's strong­est-ever declare to Detroit design management: clear, smooth, and punctiliously detailed, yet not lumpy like another low-drag "aero" vehicles. Buick's final true muscle vehicles were also 1970-72 fashions. Some models can go in reverse utilizing a simple shroud that lowers over the steering nozzle. The shroud forces the water into a U-flip, sending it beneath the boat as an alternative of behind it. The boat won't start or run with out the pin in place. The wattage score of your inverter must exceed the full wattage of all the units you plan to run concurrently. New high-stage executives came in during 1992, and though they'd GM back in the black by mid-decade, the company's total market share continued to shrink and income were down. For 1965 got here Engel's smooth, squarish bodies with fenders edged in brilliant metal, one of his signatures. Robert Conrad was working at a biological testing firm and experimenting with killing bacteria with heat when the concept for the Zeno first came to him. Does the Zeno Acne Device Really Work? This is okay for lone workers who only need to make use of their safety machine for a very brief time frame, or those that is not going to be utilizing their arms (say, if they are merely monitoring one thing). All older models and a few newer models of non-public watercraft use two-stroke engines, which may vent oil and gasoline into the water with their exhaust. Coast Guard in 2004. About 28.7 million folks rode private watercraft in U.S. If the IRS decided to publish a e book of continuously asked questions, it will rival the four million phrases of the U.S. DOJ spokesperson who requested to not be named. In fall 2013, a young man named Ross Ulbricht was arrested at a public library in San Francisco, distracted by two FBI brokers posing as a couple in the midst of a loud and passionate argument. Posing because the host of a Tv prank show or ringing a doorbell while holding a large check are prone to lure someone out of the house. If somebody your child doesn't know affords him sweet or asks him to help find a misplaced pet, he must be taught to say "No." He should ignore people who ask him for instructions or beckon him closer. Explain why your little one must by no means give out any identifying data that could lead on somebody to search out him; this consists of residence and school addresses, school actions, and journey plans. One problem is that it uses blanket terms like "cyber risk intelligence" relatively than strictly defining the sorts of knowledge that can be shared, which may potentially permit corporations to obtain and share any kind of information, including personally figuring out info (PII), non-public communications and the like. Teaching your youngster your cellphone quantity, deal with, and different important bits of data may also assist prevent abductions. As such, it doesn’t simply offer you their identified home deal with, it tells you where they are at present. If we offer you two truths and a lie, can you tease out the one that doesn't belong? The great factor in regards to the non-removable tamper-proof GPS Tracking Bracelet is that it can provide dad and mom a way to monitor their children and households with the instruments required to oversee the exercise of elderly liked ones suffering from Alzheimer’s illness.

Make sure that to pick out ones that fit your face well, and take a look at them on before making your buy. These small improvements can make an enormous distinction! Technically, small workplace appliances or equipment also count as office provides. Office hours were something but. This solution is straightforward to make use of, facilitates direct communication to the workplace and is available on each Android and iOS. Also, if the drive shouldn't be flushed thoroughly after every use, "exotic" species, like zebra mussels and invasive plants, can stow away inside the craft. Although it's tough to observe your kid's Internet use, you'll be able to display an interest in which Internet sites your child visits, who he contacts, and the way he makes use of the Internet. Do not buy items, corresponding to T-shirts, with your kid's title on them. Cash would develop into the only safe means to purchase issues, setting the worldwide economic system again many years. Ready to purchase? Keep reading. It’s additionally quick and easy to implement, merely download and set up to individual units and the app is ready to work immediately. It doesn't mosey alongside: It runs as fast as it might to the bottom. Any appliance that runs on electricity may be linked to the system. The Garmin Edge GPS Computer system is a high-decision system that keeps you updated on the state and site of your possession. The Zeno acne therapy machine may be that better way -- it is a zit zapper that radiates heat to destroy the bacteria chargeable for breakouts. The Zeno Acne Device is designed to shock bacteria with heat -- it reaches a temperature of 118.5 degrees Fahrenheit (forty eight degrees Celsius) and delivers a centered heat remedy to pimples forming beneath the skin. Why choose a SureSafe lone worker system? This is the reason we've focused on the non-24/7 monitoring units. Is there an expert monitoring group available 24/7? Although the tracker system is persistently rated high among know-how and gadget evaluation websites, the main complaint concerning the GPS monitoring system was that it would only work with Pc-based working methods. The ThermaClear system works in a way much like the Zeno, however it's utilized for two and a half seconds -- versus the 2 and a half minutes required for the Zeno. Installation takes seconds, and operations start in mere minutes. This is especially true in conditions the place your employees may be faced with working alone, this may solely be for a few minutes while another member of workers has to leave the room (or building), or for a full day as a result of a member of employees unexpectedly calls in sick which leads to another member of staff being on their very own for the day. Here is a listing of stuff you in all probability know you should not do in a thunderstorm: (1) fly a kite, (2) stand below a tree, (3) wrap yourself in metallic armor and play touch soccer, (4) put an antenna in your head, (5) stand on prime of the Empire State Building and taunt Mother Nature or (6) name somebody and make her sing "My Favorite Things" to calm you. Create house automation scenarios with IFTTT and join your favourite providers together. A smart fire alarm can unlock doorways, name emergency services and gentle up a path to safety. These services embody Secured by Design. These embody gear specs and ideas for the whole lot from the type of base floor to design and association of the play space. As increasingly more kids use the Internet to do homework, play games, and chat with associates, it turns into extra necessary for folks to set rules and limitations to protect their children. Teach her to play within the yard or on the sidewalk and to keep away from the road. Start by researching some fundamental questions: What do Wall Street analysts anticipate from the company's next earnings report? Children taking part in on the sidewalk could also be hit by a automotive that jumps the curb, or they could also be struck in the event that they venture into the road. Therefore, it is vital to keep tabs on what your kids are doing online and make sure they're consistently behaving well and safely -- even if they haven't hit the magic 13 threshold yet. Even if you are no handyman and you don't seek out alternatives to repair or construct things, it is best to nonetheless keep some staple items of safety tools on hand for when DIY tasks come up. No such law has been drafted, however the company is still pursuing the matter. United States Environmental Protection Agency.

United States Department of Agriculture. Well, the U.S. Department of Justice has lobbied for a regulation mandating that tech companies develop instruments that may enable law enforcement to avoid encryption and entry information on their clients' gadgets. And if there is a skeleton key to break encryption for regulation enforcement, the folks who've access to it can be millionaires many times over promoting it to hackers, and a few of them inevitably will. Today, this kind of hacking requires tricking the consumer into giving hackers access to their computer systems and web connections. GPS works greatest with an unobstructed view of the sky and can be restrained if a user is positioned in a building, surrounded by dense bushes, or if there's a closely clouded sky. Using a radio signal, a GPS device detects when a satellite tv for pc is orbiting the Earth and sends that signal to a cellphone. As an example, many no monthly fee GPS trackers work by storing information which is then later recovered when the GPS tracker machine is retrieved. Amber Alert GPS Inc. - The corporate affords private security monitoring gadgets corresponding to Active Halo. It presents actual-time connectivity and is waterproof and very durable. Voyce, a waterproof good collar, not solely displays the resting heart price and variety of calories a dog burns, but it also has a objective-setting function. Most single-perform coronary heart fee monitors include a chest-strap sensor that transmits coronary heart charge knowledge to a watch. The Omron HeartGuide Smart Watch consists of an integrated blood pressure wrist cuff. Water flows via the engine or by a closed system that features a chemical coolant. A simple lighting system is relatively low cost, whereas a wise home theater system can run into the 1000's. Since you've received all this newfound time, others will assume you can arrange the college bake sale or run the holiday get together committee. A backdoor allowing a 3rd get together to read particulars of transactions means there will likely be a constructed-in strategy to snoop on countless bank card purchases. It also could possibly be used to seize on-line banking sessions and different private information helpful for blackmail, identity and credit card fraud. Even then, using the ATM means risking having your PIN and debit card numbers swiped inside a now easily penetrable community. It can even wake you up if you're sleeping. Instinctively slowing down to avoid an accident is dangerous and can result in a whole lack of steering energy. If you must rise up and down and reposition yourself usually, kneepads work nice. Fears, Danika. "Rescue puppies get stunning stand-in mom: A capybara." Today. Now you've gotten an thought of easy methods to get started. Manufactured within the UK at our headquarters in Brackley, Northamptonshire, we have now the expertise and stability to support you and your system now and into the future. Modern inverters have some in-built security options that make them even simpler to use. And with the use of location beacons along with ground plans, visibility of entries is retained even and not using a direct GPS signal and for various floors or ranges. If they persist, he should run or yell and even battle if the particular person makes an attempt to touch him. A run within the storm, nevertheless, might. In reality, a child is much much less more likely to be abducted than to be in a automobile accident; nonetheless, media attention would lead individuals to believe that little one abduction is quite widespread. Of the children which might be abducted, 25 percent are taken by strangers; most abducted youngsters are taken by someone they know. Establish a code word for emergency use in case your youngster needs to be picked up by someone else. This can also be placed on a pre-set timer, so that in the event that they don’t press the button inside that point-frame, somebody is alerted to the scenario. For example, personal safety devices, lone worker alarms, and CCTV may help different staff members monitor the security and site of lone workers throughout a pure disaster or emergency scenario. For the GPS, it's going to observe the GPS location of the phone. You will discover funds-pleasant alarms for $5-$15, these with a few added options like a flashlight for $15-$30 and those with superior features like GPS and Bluetooth capabilities from $30-$50. Want to seek out out more about our lone worker alarms and wireless man down alarm system? The chef says that the gadget not only cuts down on prep time however he is ready to keep his space free from clutter within the kitchen. He says that almost all individuals are genuinely focused on political matters, however we have been scarred by dangerous experiences with co-workers.

The term biofeedback, which describes how individuals enhance their well being through the use of alerts from their own our bodies, often conjures up pictures of patients hunkered down in geeked-out hospital rooms with sensors and devices strapped to their bodies. In board rooms across the UK and particularly those of field service based mostly organisations, the proactive steps that can be taken to make sure lone worker safety is often a key merchandise on the agenda. Instead of using a key and door handle to open the door, the sensible residence reads your scanned fingerprint or a four-digit code. In 1993, Congress thought of a law mandating the use of the so-called "Clipper chip," which would retailer a duplicate of an encryption key for legislation enforcement and permit the decryption of secure information with a warrant. That's why so many individuals exit of their way to use cleansing washes and acne-combating creams to eliminate them -- or apply make-up to make them much less noticeable. It's as much as all operators and passengers to verify they use their watercraft safely and in compliance with local legal guidelines. In this text, we will explore how these craft operate, and we'll examine the security, environmental and authorized concern­s associated to their use. The reply is for a wide range of reasons, together with saving power costs, private safety, even better consolation. The smart house makes use of numerous photo voltaic vitality so that you save on electricity. While iPads aren't properly equipped for plenty of typing (until you really like touch screens), they're great if you want to do some reading, on-line shopping, shopping, taking a look at/posting photographs or even Skyping. A hatchback four-door joined the combo for 2002 for even broader market coverage. The vendor affords primary community coverage in the US, Canada, and Mexico, but can offer a distinct or international sim card, if required. As you can see, if you happen to dont modify the default SSID of your router a would-be intruder armed with a few typical SSIDs from vital makers will likely be able to find your wireless network fairly effortlessly. Some vehicles, akin to those geared up with the Ford Sync system, faucet into the Internet connection on a driver's smartphone or a wireless USB adapter. Cell telephones have had the flexibility to obtain Amber alerts since 2005 via an SMS text message based program called the Wireless Amber Alert program. If or when the senior walks exterior the virtual boundary a direct notification will be despatched by way of e mail or textual content message to upwards of 100 totally different relations or essential contacts. This software permits stalkers to learn sent and acquired text messages and listen to phone calls. With StaySafe, a GPS location is distributed with the panic alarm to ensure help may be despatched directly the lone worker. This SMS will include the Google Maps link, merely tapping the link will display the placement of the wanderer on Google Maps. Marsal, Katie. "Women need Apple's iPhone, men desire Google Android, Nielsen finds." AppleInsider. You'll also wish to take a very good look at the atmosphere around the cache to verify it is not being adversely impacted by guests. A mechanic needs to see what they're working on to verify all goes properly for the shopper. It goes straight to the point and creates driving studies, geofences, and alerts when wanted. Their tracker can be armed remotely by way of your telephone, at which level the tool begins signaling its position by connecting to the Pixie tracker community. And if you are speaking on the phone, the tip of the wiring just happens to be your ear. What's more, the injury done to your interior ear is permanent. What’s extra, if your worker is just not where you anticipated them to be, this may occasionally raise false flags. Those laws are designed to lower the danger of foodborne illnesses by setting guidelines about employee handwashing, wearing gloves when dealing with prepared-to-eat foods, maintaining minimal inside cooking temperatures for meats, amongst other standards. While this seems anodyne sufficient from a political standpoint, the lack of specificity indicates that the DOJ needs some option to decrypt information on command with a warrant, despite security consultants saying that such a approach simply doesn't exist as a result of the principles of mathematics. Follow the foundations of the street. From air site visitors to road traffic, security is turning into a more pressing difficulty, and a few individuals feel that they're being monitored extra closely than ever earlier than. Make sure she knows the right way to learn site visitors indicators. Read on to learn the way. Read about how parental supervision increases playground security subsequent.

The requirements also stress that secure playgrounds require ample supervision and maintenance, as effectively pretty much as good design. A couple of years later, Kawasaki Motors launched the JET-SKI® watercraft, which turned so well-liked that m­any folks now refer to all personal watercraft as "jet skis." Within the mid-1980s, different manufacturers developed their own models, and Bombardier re-launched its SEA-DOO design. That's the essential idea of a private watercraft. It might sound like a good suggestion but, like quite a bit issues, sounding right simply doesn't reduce it. In the event you don’t have the cash to afford your high deductible at a moment’s notice, like in the case of a automobile accident, this insurance coverage isn’t right for you. Asking particular questions about how they protect your money might assist ease many fears about how -- and how typically -- people who financial institution online lose cash. You need to address many pertinent questions when deciding what system will work greatest for you. Large inverters are used as emergency energy backup, so determine how many hours the system will run. UPS pilots additionally fly at probably the most fuel-environment friendly speeds potential to meet their delivery deadlines and run just one engine when taxiing to conserve gasoline. It is also the first iPhone with video recording, and it contains straightforward-to-use video enhancing software that permits you to tweak your clips on the fly. Try the video beneath for a rundown of its many features. Police body cameras are specialized video recorders designed to doc what frontline officers see in the line of obligation. Though it helps you feel you take steps to protect your children, it will not forestall their disappearance. I don't feel strongly. Whatever you do, don't enable yourself to really feel responsible for being a working father or mother and having a family. For a corporation, the good thing about hiring freelancers isn't having to pay them when it does not need them. Nevertheless, having a cellular phone in my car aided me improve my group. The second-technology Jaguar XJ was actually when, mostly resulting from design adjustments within the face of safety laws, the looks of the car took on features that will last into the nineteen nineties. Equipped both with one of two straight-six engines or a V12, there have been over 91,000 collection II XJs constructed, with about 14,000 being V12 units. UK Lone worker alarms The 300 dominated NASCAR in 1955-56, and might have continued to take action had the Automobile Manufacturers Association not agreed to de-emphasize racing after 1957. But it was well worth the expense, boosting model-12 months quantity to over 150,000 units and bringing look up to par with efficiency finally. Four-stroke fashions usually have 4 cylinders. The only recorded journey-associated death at Universal Studios was in 2004, when a 39-12 months-old man from Apopka, Florida died after sustaining a head damage from stepping four toes off the Revenge of the Mummy’s loading platform. Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck, is about the final days of the well-known outlaw and the man who betrayed and killed him. The third buddy is getting a flat envelope containing a pair of tickets to see the One Man Star Wars Trilogy. Select a pair with traits that are best suited on your most typical chores and projects. Intersecting runways -- Runways that cross one another are common at airports where the prevailing winds can change throughout the year. Without water from the steering nozzle, the boat can't change course. The fact of the battlefield necessitates steady change within the pursuit to remain a step ahead of the enemy. If the goggles keep on the bridge of your nose comfortably, you have received a superb match. Individuals might have assorted results with the Zeno, but if you employ it in line with its operating instructions, your odds of success are good. We, nonetheless, have excellent news for you: It’s doable to track someone’s phone with out their consciousness. Plenty of government companies have taken steps to reduce considerations about noise, security and pollution. It's necessary to grasp a few security concerns earlier than getting on a private watercraft. And the reliability of helmets has not been confirmed in personal watercraft accidents. Playground Safety Though they not often result in dying, playground accidents are the leading cause of injury to elementary college kids. This ensures that it will not transfer about and cause danger. Both rock climbing and skydiving have an element of hazard. Cons: You'll have to keep eye on privateness of your data. To keep your baby secure in the automotive, drive carefully and defensively. In the one- to four-year-old age group, two thirds of the youngsters who're killed in automotive accidents are occupants of a car, and one third are pedestrians struck by a automotive.

To make sure your child is not struck by a car, train her to respect the road and to walk defensively. Launched as the 4 seat Dino 308 GT/4, these had been Maranello’s first Ferrari-badged highway cars with out a 12-cylinder engine. As she gets older, teach her to look each ways earlier than crossing the road. It's an electronically controlled strong cover plate that works with electric coil stovetops and a mechanism installed inside the stove to routinely shut off the burner when it will get too scorching or stays on for an prolonged time period. The ignition button, normally discovered on the handlebars, sends a sign to an electric beginning motor. Mobility units vary from walking canes and walkers to subtle wheelchairs and electric scooters. The JPL has also used a Rift with a Virtuix Omni treadmill and panoramic pictures captured by the Curiosity rover to simulate walking on Mars. A slice of pizza is probably one of the best food choices in the event you plan on consuming while walking down the sidewalk. Search for and down and side to aspect. “After lunch, a gaggle of us went over to the manufacturing facility, shut down for the occasion,” Goodfellow continued. Protective goggles are larger than typical reading glasses (some fashions are designed to suit over your glasses), and so they wrap around the sides of your face. Some models are also designed to allow the operator to lean into turns as they would on a motorbike. Newer fashions use a computer to re-begin the jet drive if the operator simultaneously releases the throttle and turns the handlebars laborious in one course. If you utilize the Zeno before the pustule absolutely forms, there is a ninety p.c chance the potential pimple won't progress into a painful protrusion. Once it's charged and you have a pimple beginning to type, fireplace up the machine -- three tones will point out that the Zeno is on. But crucial precaution would not concern your driving abilities, but fairly one easy plastic and metallic device -- a automotive seat. Armstrong, Amanda. Real Simple. Birdie did its best to maintain it so simple as humanly potential. As much as we try to explain we want to keep them safe, they will see us as their daughters, not health advisors. Its lithium-ion battery lasts around 2.5 weeks earlier than needing a recharge, and Spytec sells a separate battery add-on for many who need an excellent greater battery. Mobile apps and gadgets could be carried on a worker’s person or even worn around the neck or clipped to clothing. Gives safety wherever you've got a cell phone sign, whether you’re home, in the office, or ‘out and about’. It was previously referred to because the Commercial Mobile Alert System (CMAS) or the personal Localized Alerting Network (PLAN). OnStar techniques function over a digital cellular community in the United States, and its clients can contact the service 24 hours a day with the push of a button of their cars. Then, the engine takes over powering the craft. The craft's engine rotates the impeller by way of a drive shaft. The impeller is a rotor-like device that sits inside a cylindrical passageway within the physique of the craft. Among the various items contained in the shed is toolbox, at the underside of that are a dozen spare and random keys, one in every of which opens your home. Tight-fitting styles make it easier to handle items and to really feel what you are doing via the fabric. There are a great deal of types and supplies to choose from. There are even straightforward-to-comply with self-protection classes for kids. Even if the passenger is belted in, it's almost impossible to hold onto a baby in a crash. For example, to carry onto a ten-pound infant in a collision at 30 miles per hour requires the identical quantity of power as lifting 300 pounds one foot off the bottom! But more generally, a toddler is harm when a car through which she is a passenger is concerned in a collision. This retains the boat from touring very far and reduces the likelihood of a collision. This feature can help get the boat into and out of the water or get out of a tight space. However, the jargon associated to those devices can generally be difficult to know, and with three different technique of installation, it is usually a challenge to get the right balance of performance and worth. Read on to see if the Zeno is best for you. Read how kidnappings can be prevented subsequent by by no means leaving a child alone in a public place.

#loneworkeralarmsUK #LoneworkerUK #mandownUK #LoneWorkerAlarmUK #LoneWorkerAlarms #LoneWorkerAlarmDevices #SOSLoneWorkerDevices #SOSGPSTracker #UKloneworker

[therealvinelle]

You or The Muffin made a post on your dream cast(s), but I’m not really familiar with those references/actors (with the exception of Bowie and Jean Claude Van Damme and Clint Eastwood I think you mentioned). Is there anyone you would choose that’s a little more recent (80s-present)?

Our dream cast.

Our dream voice cast, for those interested.

Fun fact, both those posts were composed together, so yeah we share these opinions. We composed this one together as well.

Keep in mind that this list is... well it's for Twilight as I would make it. Which means that of course we’re casting a Didyme, nevermind that she’s been dead for thousands of years, but Denali who?

And once again we’re disrupting the time-space continuum and casting big name actors you’ve definitely heard about as they were ten, twenty, or thirty years ago.

Alright, so newer and shinier Twilight fancast, this time with a few alternatives because decisions are hard:

Alice: ... Audrey Hepburn.

I'm sorry. I tried. I tried to be modern, but I got to Alice and originally we thought Saoirse Ronan, appearances be damned because Ronan is a great actress, only to realize Ronan should be Renesmée.

So we're back to the dream cast. Audrey Hepburn was a tiny, pixie-like, yet ridiculously beautiful woman. Like Alice, her growth was stunted due to prolonged starvation during the War, so she's the perfect casting in a way no modern Western actress is going to be. She was also an amazing actress, just absolutely magnetic each time she graced the screen. She would be a fantastic Alice.

Aro: A young Tom Cruise.

Cruise is an absurdly beautiful man, and at 173 cm he is the right stature as I could never cast a tall actor for Aro. He's a very good actor, so I'm sure he'd be up for it. Also, he'd look great with chalky petrified vampire makeup on. He'd pull it off. I want to see this.

Optionally: Cate Blanchett

Yes, she's a woman. But that's what acting is all about, you play someone you're not. It's more a thing in theatre than in film that men can play women and women can play men, but I say fuck the rules, we're doing it theatre style. And Blanchett absolutely have that enigmatic, ethereal, otherworldly quality I'd want for Aro.

Bella: A young Sarah Michelle Gellar

Gellar is a petite beauty, she is spunky yet adorable, and very charming, the people of Forks and the Cullens would very believably gravitate towards her. Most importantly she has the acting chops to pull it off. She would portray an amazing Bella.

Caius: Daniel Craig

The man is the right age, he's someone you don't mess with. Craig has perhaps a touch too charismatic, but he's good enough that I'm hopeful he could tune it down.

Carlisle: A young Leonardo DiCaprio

DiCaprio is ridiculously attractive and has a bad case of The Babyface™. Watching him try to convince people that he’s 30 years old and has adult kids would be absolutely hilarious, and very faithful to the books. He’s a talented actor, too, very versatile.

Optionally: David Tennant

Tennant doesn't look the part, he is handsome but handsome in that particular way when flawed features come together handsomely. He does however have the perfect charm, gravitas, and energy for the character, so I think he could make a great Carlisle. 

This is where the magic of movie adaptions come in - you’re not going to be able to translate directly from text to screen, that’s impossible. If you embrace that and make some bold choices, you stand to make a truly spectacular adaption. One of the reasons why the Twilight films failed is that they were too faithful to the books while failing to understand the spirit of them, whereas the TV miniseries adaption of His Dark Materials switched a lot of things up and is absolutely amazing for it.

Demetri: Robert Downey Jr.

Ridiculously charismatic and talented actors cast in bit parts and making them shine is a passion of mine.

Didyme: Cate Blanchett

Look, Blanchett had to be in this somehow, and we could think of no one more appropriate. She has too much enigma for Esme, is too womanly for Alice, and once the idea for Didyme was had it was hard to weasel out of. 

Cate Blanchett would be convincing as Aro's sister, as a woman who haunts her lover and brother even thousands of years after her passing, an enigmatic and divine woman who can never be forgotten.

Also she's my fancast for her brother, so this works out quite nicely. Why cast someone who merely looks like Aro’s actor when you can just cast the same actor.

Edward: A young Johnny Depp

Very few men are otherworldly beautiful. There are countless handsome men, yes, and many beautiful ones, but Depp has extreme and symmetrical features that come together beautifully. Robert Pattinson does too, for the record, so what makes me prefer Depp is the fact that he is an incredible actor. Pattinson is good, but Depp is the kind of talent who can power through even the worst scripts, give him nothing and he will give you the world. He’s on Al Pacino’s level, this man can salvage anything.

Emmett: Terry Crews

Terry Crews is a mountain of a man, he's massive. He'd nail Emmett's infectious cheer, too. He has a very symmetrical and attractive face that follows the golden ratio beautifully, so I could buy him being a vampire.

Esme: Anne Hathaway ten years ago. Ref one, ref two.

She’s out of this world beautiful and has the perfect Esme aesthetic. Hands down best Esme. The fact that she’s a very good actress helps.

Felix: Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson

He’s got the physique for the part and would be absolutely menacing.

James: Brad Pitt

Brad Pitt is a character actor who tragically got lost in the blockbuster scene. He’s good, he deserves cool parts. So yeah, Pitt as James. I think he’d be absolutely amazing for the part, it’d be the kind of performance where you can tell the actor was enjoying every second on set.

Jane and Alec: Child Dakota Fanning

Fanning was a good choice for Jane, it's just that she was slightly too old when she was cast (and they made her look even older!) and the screenwriters had written a different character than the one in the books (and not for the better - I’m all for changing things in an adaption! But, well, she was Marvel levels of bad villain). And as Alec is a bit part and supposed to be nearly identical to her, I’d just have Fanning play him as well.

Jasper: Clint Eastwood, every time.

Optionally: feels like blasphemy to even have an “optionally”, but here we are. If you somehow haven’t heard of the guy, then… er. No, sorry, I’ve got nothing. Know that I tried, though.

Marcus: Tom Holland

The man has such babyface, which fits since Marcus is 19.

Just Tom Holland, sitting around, looking young and depressed.

Renata: A young Natalie Portman

Yes, yes, Renata is a bit part, I know that, but this is my Twilight we're casting for so I do what I want.

Portman fits the physical description for Renata, and I find that description to be relevant to her character. She's a teeny tiny woman charged with protecting the most important man in the world, and gifted with intouchability. Portman looks is beautiful enough to fit the bill for a Twilight vampire, and tiny enough to stress the absurdity of this 5′0″ woman being anybody’s bodyguard, nevermind Aro’s.

Renesmée: Child Saoirse Ronan (Though Adult Ronan works too, she’s my cast for the hybrid gremlin period.)

She was an extraordinarily talented child actress, and she’s beautiful while odd-looking. I could absolutely believe I was looking at an otherworldly hybrid when looking at her.

Mostly I think Renesmée is going to be a very hard part for anybody, as the given actor will be portraying one of the most ridiculed characters in recent pop culture. It’ll take major talent to get the audience to care about Renesmée, but I think Ronan, if anybody, could do it.

Rosalie: Margot Robbie ten years ago

She’s out of this world beautiful, and more importantly she’s an incredible actress. She would be incredible for the part.

#long post #alice cullen #aro #bella swan #caius #carlisle cullen #demetri #edward cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #felix #james #jane #alec #jasper hale #marcus #renata #renesmée cullen #rosalie hale #twilight #twilight fancast #twilight renaissance #twilight meta

[bananaofswifts]

Taylor Swift - Fearless (Taylor's Version)

A celebratory work, marked with freedom and joy...

CLASHMUSIC

Like a restored photograph brightening from black and white into colour, 'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' is the same, but better. Embroiled in a high-profile battle over the ownership of her own music, Taylor Swift shakes away the sad context of this re-recorded album, and in turn, shakes the cobwebs off her old hits simply through the power of sheer joy.

The anticipation around this re-recording and how she would do it was high, wondering whether she would totally change her early work to watch her new indie-infused 'folklore' sound as she kept her collaborators Aaron Dessner and Jack Antonoff close. But what she’s done not only makes sense, but makes 'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' take a truly ground-breaking stance, going up against far bigger music industry demons than her own ex-label execs.

By making near carbon copies of her old tracks, Fearless (Taylor’s version) defies time in two ways; celebrating Taylor’s matured voice while bringing fans back to their teens with this celebration of her early career.

And celebration is the perfect word. All the changes made to beloved tracks like ‘You Belong With Me’ and ‘Love Story’, simply make them shinier. Throughout the whole album, banjos are crisper, guitars are fuller, drums are heavier, and Taylor’s strong 31-year-old voice leads the music. Clearly taking care to not step over her 19-year-old self, all the changes feel totally natural, like they should’ve been that way to start with.

Take the violins on ‘Breathe’, while they were sweet on the original, on ‘Breathe (Taylor’s Version)’, they’re impactful and gripping. Maybe this is the impact of Taylor’s long career and development coming full circle to spruce up her old hits, or maybe we’re finally seeing the vision younger Taylor had all along, free from external opinions and control, as a lesson in why she should be in charge of her own work.

A stand out moment comes as ‘Tell Me Why’ starts. Leaning into the anger and bitterness of the track, you get the sense that Taylor channels all her defiance into this track, as her current situation overtakes the meaning of the lyrics. Singing ‘you could write a book on / how to ruin someone's perfect day’, you can almost hear Taylor’s clenched fist, a moment where her defiance and passion about this project seems to become crystal-clear as her old self provides the perfect words.

With her voice sounding far stronger than the original as it’s aged into her own unique blend of country, pop and indie, there’s something beautiful and important about hearing these songs sung again that really goes above opinions on the album. In an industry that’s so obsessed with never- ending youth, releasing a re-recorded album where the only major difference is the age of her voice, 'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' is a powerful message about her place and longevity in this industry. Previously talking about female celebrities being “discarded in an elephant graveyard by the time they’re 35”, Taylor takes a stand against the pressure on female musicians to constantly be newer and younger, by pausing to step back into her past to not only reclaim her legacy, but take a moment with her fans to look around and see how far they’ve come.

Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' is undeniably for the long-standing fans. In fact, Taylor takes a risky step away from the new indie crowd fans she won over on Folklore and Evermore, returning to her original twee country self. Only a star like Taylor could have fans this captivated for the release of songs they’ve grown up listening to thousands of times, but with first kiss soundtracks like ‘Fearless’, and teenage guides like ‘Fifteen’, 'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' offers a moment for older fans to feel nostalgic for the soundtrack of their youth and gives younger listeners the opportunity to be raised by these tracks as a whole new wave of Swift fans.

And it’s this purpose that breathes life into the album that could’ve ended up sounding like older Taylor Swift doing younger Taylor Swift karaoke. The songs feel fresh, Taylor’s voice sounds natural and relaxed as she’s been singing these songs forever, the heightened drama and sound-quality on the tracks gives the restored work better-than-the-original tones and textures. Simply, you can hear the drive. You can hear exactly what Taylor is thinking as she strives to re-make Fearless, but better, if she’s going to be forced to sacrifice the original record.

And then we get to the vault. Releasing six previously unheard songs that were penned as she was writing 'Fearless', Taylor takes on a unique challenge of playing with her 12-year-old drafts. Leaning into all her influences, the vault tracks range from pure pop on ‘Mr Perfectly Fine’, to more Folklore- esque minimalism on ‘We Were Happy’. With no original to re-create, these tracks are a perfect collaboration between her old and new self, building something bigger around the core of her old lyrical style as sweet country phrasing is bedded within a more complex musical background where her recent indie accolades come into play. While the re-recording of the original album may be too sickly for new fans, the vault provides a space for her recent sound, with ‘You All Over Me’ having big radio potential and ‘Bye Bye Baby’ rounding off the defiant album with an apt message; ‘Bye, bye, to everything I thought was on my side’.

Managing to find a purpose beyond a legal battle, 'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)' has become a moment of reflection and celebration for both Taylor and her fans, coming together to look back on youth from the other side 13 years later. Keeping the substance the same to not uproot these song’s place in people’s lives, Taylor simply cleans up the edges, brightens up the colours and ups the drama. Shrugging off the pressure to always move forward, Taylor re-applies her seemingly endless passion for making music to her old self, collaborating with her past in order to save it. And the result, bittersweet magic that has millions feel nostalgic.

8/10

Words: Lucy Harbron

#taylor swift #fearless #review

[arcawolf]

When making a fanfiction, what is the best way to go about doing so, and making sure that it is good?

That's a very subjective question. You're going to get a different answer from every person because there is no answer - the best way for me to write a fanfic is unlikely to be the best way for you. Likewise, what is a good fanfiction? Is it a story with a lot of reader engagement? A tightly paced story with no filler? Something unique? All of the above? All are valid, and I would give different advice for each answer.

On that note, because I see them used as synonyms a lot, I want to mention that a popular fanfiction is not the same thing as a good fanfiction. There are lots of good fanfics that go unnoticed. And again, I would give different advice if we were talking about that.

Anyways, with those disclaimers here's what I would suggest:

1. Have a plot outline

I know other people write better without a plot outline, but I would argue that newer writers should use one and they are an absolute must in some genres. (Any mystery story, for example.) Remember, a plot outline is not a checklist, but a map and compass; no matter where you are, you always know which direction your destination lies. Or in other words, it doesn't matter how you get from Point A to Point B as long as you are steadily making your way towards it.

Knowing where you're heading is important for pacing. If you know Plot Point C is going to happen in the future, you can set up for it and lay out foreshadowing much earlier then if you're creating the plot on the fly. Likewise, if you're working towards a goal, it helps avoid filler. I find they also help me maintain character consistency.

There's no rule for how much of your story your outline should cover, but I would suggest these as the bare minimum:

- Major plot events

- Major reveals/plot twists

- How the story opens

- How it ends

- How the major characters end (Aka. Their fates and final result of their character development, if any)

2. Adequate spelling/grammar and conventions

Your basic writing skills don't need to be so flawless that professional editors weep upon reading your work, but you do need to maintain a respectable level. I imagine you already knew this, so let me offer up something much more controversial:

I believe this also applies to style rules.

There are lots of unusual styles out there like lapslocks, chat fics and footnotes. They are not a bad thing. I can name stories written in all of these styles that I really like and I've broken rules myself. However, standards and stylistic rules were created for a reason and that's because if they aren't used correctly, they'll drag down the story. To offer a metaphor, you could jump on a grizzly bear and ride it like a horse; if you succeeded, you would became a big viral sensation, but you're way more likely to get mauled.

The general rule of thumb I give is this: If you do not understand why the rule exists, you should not break it.

3. Recognize and play to your strengths.

Even as a new writer, you should be able to identify some strengths. There will be certain characters you understand more, or plot elements you are more passionate about. Lean into that. Give those favoured characters bigger roles and build upon those elements. A good example of this is in The Lion's Den. The screentime for the SDR2 characters is extremely uneven and the characters that show up the least are generally characters that were hardest for me to write.

These strengths don't have to be directly related to writing either. Before I continue with that, let me give some context:

The How to Train Your Dragon (HTTYD) fandom is a big fandom that is primarily based on the movie series. However, most people in the fandom are aware that it was a (vastly different) book series first and some elements of the books have crept into the general fandom. The most widespread is Dragonese, which is the spoken language of dragons. Also, the most popular fic subgenre in the HTTYD fandom is to have the main character, Hiccup, magically turn into a dragon. Typically, as a dragon, Hiccup can speak Dragonese and interact with the dragons as normal human-like characters.

Going into this fandom, I was aware that one of my strengths was that I had been really into animals. I knew a lot of random facts about animals and their behavior/communication. Because I wanted to use this, when I decided to write my own dragon transformation story, I did not give the dragons a spoken language and focused on body-language as real animals tend to do. I believe this is the reason that story was a big hit; the lack of spoken language made my dragons and story stand out among all the others in that genre.

I'm going to leave it at that for today. Thanks for the ask!

#fanfiction #writing-advice #asks #anon

[omegasmileyface]

some distant tommy ghoulatta backstory :)

[HLVRAI Danny Phantom AU]

warnings: death mention

words: 2299

AO3 link

===

Feb 1965, Wagon Mound, NM

G-Man looked at the dry, historic town around him as he pulled his truck into the parking lot of a church. He was staying in a cheap hotel a few towns away, where he had first seen all that supernatural stuff as a kid. He had come back to ask around for local stories and try to get some semblance of research done himself, and he was lucky enough to hear about a guy in this town who was supposedly obsessed with ghosts. After getting his address and name — Benjamin Fischer — from a local at a diner who was intrigued by G-Man's search, he set off immediately.

Fischer's house was close to the church, so G-Man got out there and walked the rest of the way. It was uncomfortably hot with his jacket on so close to the desert, but he knew how quickly that could change.

The house was small and modern, with an unkempt yard and a cross visible in the blinded window. After G-Man knocked on the door, he investigated the porch. Despite the lack of attention to appearance everywhere else, lush bushes were kept in pots by the door. They bloomed with deep, pinkish-red rose-like flowers despite the time of year.

A man, presumably Benjamin Fischer himself, opened the door.

"Hello. I've heard you've been doing some research on spirits and the supernatural?" G-Man said, quelling the slight intimidation he felt with the confidence of a man on a mission.

Fischer raised his eyebrow. "Who are you, exactly?"

Aw, crap. He was so excited he forgot to introduce himself. "Sorry. You can call me G-Man. I'm looking to do some research myself, and I need a better jumping off point."

Fischer looked amused, but didn't stop frowning. "Do you have a real name?"

"I've been going solely by G-Man these last few years."

The older man smiled wryly. "Well, boy, I try to keep my research to myself. I can give you some advice, but that's about all."

G-Man's brow furrowed, and he forced his face back into a more neutral expression. "Advice would be wonderful," (though he doubted it was anything he hadn't heard before), "but why don't you share your research? The more people know about what's out there, the more we can be equipped for it."

Fischer looked to the side and scowled. "There are people here who think I'm crazy, or better yet, some kind of Satan worshipper. I'm sure they'd like to see what I've found and make all sorts of trouble for everyone in town trying to 'disprove' it. Hell, there are people who'd take what I've done, use it against me, and then take it for their own."

"Ah... could I help you with your research then? I have no intention of letting anything found by either of us into the wrong hands."

"Sorry, kid, not looking for an assistant at the moment. You'll have to look somewhere else. And that advice, before you go — ghosts are more than just the impressions of people who used to live. Trust your instincts, they're closer to spirits than your brain."

G-Man frowned and thanked the man before reluctantly walking back toward the church. He could probably spend the night searching for anything supernatural in this town, but he'd have to go back by morning. Maybe he'd come by some other time and pester Fischer again.

---

June 1967, Wagon Mound, NM

In two more years of searching on his own, G-Man had learned some more about the supernatural, but not as much as he'd wanted. He'd gathered from books that all spirits had a central energy made out of pure passion that held them together, that they had physical forms but they didn't align quite right with the living world, that they were connected to some spirit world — all understandably but frustratingly spiritual and speculative. The only thing that seemed to be consistent was that a European flower called blood blossom, the flower that was blooming outside Benjamin Fischer's house, distressed spirits enough to ward them off.

He was in New Mexico again to visit his old spots, trying to see if he could find a ghost fresh enough to talk to him somewhat coherently. A waitress at a diner in Wagon Mound had recognized him and told him that Fischer had died a few months ago and it may not be best to try to visit his house.

Of course, that's just what G-Man did.

Clearly, Fischer had lived alone, and the house looked untouched. The yard was colder than the rest of the town, though it was night, and from the way the hairs on the back of his neck spiked, G-Man was sure it was due to a paranormal presence. Either an effect of Fischer's studies, or he was haunting the place. If G-Man's research was correct, ghosts newer than a few years didn't have enough of a presence to really do anything, or even be conscious, but they tended to hang around where they had lived and affect the atmosphere there.

Following his instincts just the way the man had told him to before, G-Man walked around to the back of the house. There was a back door, the sort that might connect to a kitchen, but a small broken window revealed that the room inside was nothing of the sort. Instead it had metal tables like a lab, surfaces covered in books, and metal boxes lined up against the walls. Some boxes and jars in the room seemed to glow when he looked away from them, including a Florence flask which was knocked over on an otherwise clear table, spilling some translucent liquid which had yet to evaporate.

The closer G-Man got, the more the chill picked at his skin. He could tell he wasn't wanted here, but the dried blood blossoms in his pockets should keep anything too bad from happening. It was worth it for the knowledge he could — would — gain.

He climbed through the window. It was too small to be a comfortable fit, but the door was locked and he didn't want to break anything that wasn't already broken. On the way through, his hand picked up a small static shock. Strange, since the window frame was plastic, but stranger things still have happened during G-Man's studies.

A workbench directly across from the door caught his attention. In front of stacks of books was a torn piece of paper, stained by whatever substance was in the spilled flask. Wild but legible handwriting read:

The items in this lab are not to be moved without the utmost dedication to their protection. I am dead, but my findings are still not to be let out of my sight. Intruders will be faced with my ghost. The security of my work is likely the death of me, be prepared for it to be the death of you.

It was signed by Fischer, but the corner of the paper was smudged unreadable by the liquid, leaving just "Ben".

It was certainly very passionate. Confident, even, from the assumption that his ghost would be around in the time it would be needed. But Fischer knew more than G-Man, if nothing else, he could be sure his ghost would stay with any stolen items until it could punish the thief. G-Man was weary to open any books or boxes knowing this, but stepped back to at least look around the room. Perhaps something could be gained that way.

In his inspection, G-Man noticed one of the faded glows becoming brighter. Suddenly, it coalesced into a figure. Directly in front of him, Fischer's ghost hovered, dark blue eyes piercing despite the overall unsure translucency of his form. He was angry, as fiercely protective of his work as the note had implied. He was also... startlingly solid. This was the closest G-Man had ever been to a ghost, but he was sure that they were not usually so defined at the edges. This ghost had slightly wrinkled skin, and his chest was moving as if he were breathing.

In fact, G-Man was certain that in order for a ghost to collect enough ambient energy to cast a form, stay visible, and maintain a consciousness, their essence had to remain for several years. Even in a place of highly concentrated paranormal energy like this little lab, it would take a year or more for just the emotional consciousness to draw together into a spirit. For what was clearly Fischer to be here so soon, and so unusually solid as well... something was clearly wrong. G-Man's investigative curiosity was almost enough to overpower his instinctual fear.

As the spirit's eyes focused onto him, the air in the room grew drier. It started to pull at the moisture in his skin and made his fingertips feel hot. Every luminescent stain and vial grew brighter until they appeared to occasionally arc between one another. Tiny discharges of hot energy.

There was no way G-Man was getting out of this without at the very least explaining himself. He steeled his nerves to the best of his ability and looked directly into the ghost's eyes, willing himself to ignore the dark lifelessness of the pupils. "Do you... remember me?"

Fischer's head tilted to the side, less like he was trying to remember so much as like he was weighing whether to admit something. "...I do not know you." He looked unsure, questioning, even though behind his firm protectiveness was a layer of desperate honesty. Especially so soon after his own death, he had to be terribly confused, with a sense of purpose but no information as to why it was so.

...Of course, unless G-Man has been misunderstanding something major, and he remembered his life just fine.

Still, assumptions lead to danger when it comes to the supernatural, so he decided to test the waters.

G-Man pointed to the smudged note. "So, Ben..." He avoided calling the ghost by his full living name. For all he knew, there was some ghostly cultural taboo against using someone's old name. The most literal form of a deadname, he supposed. The note said "Ben" at the end, so perhaps if the ghost had no memory of his life he'd understand why G-Man would think that's his name.

Fischer growled. Alright, then, bad move. "That's not it." He was looking pointedly at the note, eying the staining almost as if scared. Wait, was he questioning the cut-off? He must not have been used to going as just "Ben" in life.

"...Not your whole name?"

Fischer shook his head harshly. He looked as though if he weren't fully invested in keeping G-Man away from his findings, he'd be curled up on the floor in frustration.

"Maybe..." started the ghost, "maybe it was... Ben... 'ri'? Benry?"

G-Man had to hold back a startled laugh. Maybe he was thinking of "Benji" or something similar, because as far as he was aware, "Benry" was nothing close to a name. That being said, he wasn't going to bring up the possible confusion. He was on thin ice as is.

"Well. Benry, sir, my name is G-Man. I'm a paranormal researcher, just like... just like the man this lab belonged to, and I've spoken with him before to share findings. I was hoping to make some observations of this room for my own research and leave. I promise not to harm you or anything in here. May I please take a look around?"

The spirit (Benry?) stared back at G-Man with a renewed fury. "NO! The research in this room stays here. If it gets out, they'll take it for their own uses, all they want is-"

"I promise to keep it away from the government!"

It was a fight-or-flight response, really, G-Man just blurted the first thing he thought Benry might want to hear. Honestly, he had no reason to assume what he didn't want was government involvement, that's a bit of a stereotype when it comes to rural areas, right? Just because G-Man was afraid of the government after getting the cops called on him for a ritual last year didn't mean every paranormal researcher was. And interrupting the ghost wasn't any way to earn his trust, God why wasn't his fear enough to shut him up? I mean, even if he didn't react violently — it would be respectable, considering G-Man's bold act — making a promise to a ghost? Aren't they like the fae? What if he's bound to it? He wasn't planning on sharing anything with the government, not by a long shot, but what if something came up?

Benry's eyes widened and bored directly into G-Man, expression unreadable. Then he softened. Almost literally, his harsh glow lessened and a degree of moisture returned to the room. "You promise."

It wasn't a question, but it didn't feel like a command either. It didn't need to be. An expression of relief. "We protect the research together. You can build on it. Without the findings, there's nothing to protect. We must keep it from the wrong hands."

G-Man was shocked. The shock didn't lessen when Benry, and the note, faded from view. Was he... trusted to keep this research?

After standing still for a minute and feeling the room come back together, he let out a weak, belated "thank you." He approached a closed book on one table. If nothing else, he had to come away from this with some new knowledge.

When he touched it, the pages hummed with the same dry spark as Benry's glare. ...Haunting equipment was a good way to stay close, G-Man supposed. It seemed he had not only Fischer's findings to help his career, but his own defensive spirit, odd as it may be.

#gman is like 20 in this. hes still calling himself gman though its a pseudonym #makes him feel more confident in his research and he doesnt want to associate with his past life i guess #idk i just didnt want to come up with a name for him lmao #tommy ghoulatta #this ones backstory ;) #my writing #hlvrai #its a crossover but it also stands as just... hlvrai ghost au i guess lmao #bloodblossoms on the front porch hell yeah #maybe the g in gman... stands for GHOST #anyway and then he took home the equipment and the samples and the journals and it properly kicked off the better part of his research car #eer wahoo !! #danny phantom #because you guys get to see it too even though its barely even dp related :) #hey remember how i finished 90% of this in one day and then said id post it the next and then it was another month? yeah

[saebyeog-i]

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

[vercopaanir]

Because We Were Lost

Lovely Moons, Chapter 21

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: You reconcile what it means to belong with a Mandalorian.

Words: 6.5k

Rating/Warnings: M for sexual themes. It’s in the last fourth of the chapter, and though not explicit, does not contain any major plot so you don’t have to read it if you’d prefer not to.

Notes: I have to extend such a sincere thank you to everyone who sent me encouraging messages and left me such wonderful, thoughtful comments and reviews on my last chapter. I truly was very nervous about it, and all of you were so kind. I hope you like this installment, too! There is a slight nod to one of my favorite fictional exchanges in this chapter, and I hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

AO3

You’ve never felt so relaxed, and you think it must be obvious.

Lounging back on the cushions piled on the sleeping pallet, with the baby in the crook of your arm and Venka and Corde on either side of you, nothing could move you from this spot. Your gift from Din is propped against your legs, and you read aloud about sentient plant species of the planet Ryyk. All three children are enraptured with how your fingers moved over the raised markings on the pages, their eyes growing heavy as your voice turns something so dry and scientific into a wondrous, mythical story.

You are not paying attention, though. 

No, your gaze, heavy lidded with satisfaction, is arrested upon the shadow of the Mandalorian sitting with his back propped up against the wall across the room from you. He’s cleaning his blaster-or rather, he had been, but he seems disinterested in it now, his visor trained upon your form. You are acutely aware of how bare your legs are beneath your dress, how the children playing with you earlier has left the hem rucked up around your knees. You are completely modest, but that stoic, unflinching visor leaves you feeling bare and wanton.

Physical acts of passion are not altogether mysterious to you. Living as a handmaiden on a large estate had exposed you to spying various servants return from chores, giggling and flushed. Hearing washerwomen complain about their own husbands’ stamina, or the lewd, indecorous comments stormtroopers would make when they patrolled the palace. You were always kept at a distance, safely beside the Moff’s wife to attend her, but you instinctively knew what drew heated gazes and wandering hands. 

You shiver, and it is not from your slow-drying hair from your bath. There exist steamy pools beneath the covert’s floors, hot springs that ease your muscles and wash the sweat and passion from your skin to help clear your mind. But now, back in the warm quarters you share with the man who’s gazing at your bare knees, you feel that gentle, amorous ache return.

The Mandalorian moves suddenly, quiet as a whisper, and stands. His armor is already removed, polished and gathered neatly upon the table where the children’s pencils and papers still lay. He moves with the languid stride of a hunter and crouches beside the pallet, balancing on the balls of his sock-clad feet. His Helmet tilts to the side. “I think,” he whispers, sliding his hands around the infant whom you realize has fallen asleep against your abdomen. “It’s time for bed.” 

You let the book close, glancing down at the other two children who have nodded off on either side of you. Unperturbed, you lay your head back, watching as the shadow of the bounty hunter moves slowly through the warm room, murmuring something to the gently fussing baby on his shoulder, too low for you to hear. He rubs the infant’s back, speaking quietly and holding him until he settles back down. Pressing the hatch open of the pram, he carefully lowers the baby into the warmth and safety within. There’s a moment where he situates the blankets inside, making sure to tuck the child in before closing the shutters once more. 

Turning back, you smile when he returns to pick up Corde, carrying her like a little bird in his strong arms. You situated several of the cushions, large and overstuffed as they were, across the room through a small archway in a vestibule connecting the quarters. Din lays her on top, placing Venka beside her before covering them with one of the thick furs that had been left for your use. It isn’t a surprise the Mandalorians had prepared for the chill. The tunnels are glacial in their emptiness.

Beneath his armor, Din wears only a black tunic and trousers, but he has many just like them. You’ve mended various articles of his clothing over the months you’ve stayed aboard the Razor Crest, even though he insists there is no need. The ones he wears now are newer, with no holes or patches, sturdy and warm. 

He has already removed his belt and boots, and now, as he circles the room, quietly extinguishing all but one of the lanterns with his fingertips, you take the opportunity to admire his form and shape. He left you earlier in the evening after showing you where the women’s bathing rooms are, and by the smell of sage and sea salt that greets you as he sits down, you know he must have found respite in the hot showers too. 

Sitting heavily beside you, you hear his deep sigh that seems to come from years of tireless, thankless work. You reach your hand forward, feeling the clean fabric of his shirt as you rub your fingers in soothing circles between his shoulders. The shoulders your legs were draped over just a few hours before. You blush at the thought.

He doesn’t tense, doesn’t move at all save to drop his head forward. A far cry from just a few months before. A thought occurs to you, and your hand lays flat against the middle of his back. You can feel his heartbeat against your palm.

“You’ve taken your helmet off to sleep before,” you whisper, mindful of the children across the quarters, sleeping deeply in the connecting room. “Why don’t you do it here? It must be more comfortable.” When he says nothing, when he doesn’t move, simply allowing you to rub his back, you take a deep breath. “Unless…unless you can’t in front of them-in front of me-”

“I can,” he finally murmurs, stopping and turning to look at you over his shoulder. The smoky glass of his visor is that of a dying star, and you hold your breath as you watch his every movement. His hand, bare, rests between your bodies on the bed like a bar of gold. “I can remove it…before a wife and child.”

You feel all the air leave your body, the room, the world, and you stare at the shape of his helmet’s profile against the lone lantern lit in the corner. Neither of you speak, and what is not said is heavy, thick in the air. Your fingers flex on top of your legs, and you swallow hard, slowly sitting up on your knees until you’re knelt beside him. A show of good faith, you decide, is the natural next step to be taken between you together. Taking the hem of your dress, you shuffle it up the length of your body, pulling and tugging it until it escapes your hair, then your crown, and you shake your arms from your sleeves. 

Beneath, you still wear more clothes than some people wear in public. Your chemise falls just above your knees, made of simple cotton and breathable for the desert. It bares your arms, your neck, and more of your chest than you are used to showing anyone, though, and you blush deeper when the Mandalorian suddenly raises a hand out towards you. 

You suck in a breath, watching the shape of his hand hesitating to touch you. Unsure of what his intention is, you bite your lip and wait, only for him to reach upward to touch the side of your face with a tender sweep of his fingers. When he speaks, his voice is a rasp, hoarse and dry as a dead leaf.

“Do...do you know how pretty you are?”

The question is sincere, but it almost makes you laugh. The smile it brings to your face and the bashful shake of your head as you sit back making you feel like a girl. “Do you say that to all the people who take care of your children?” you tease, finally looking back up toward his visor. His helmet dips a bit deeper to the side, and you smile, shaking your head again. “What?”

“You...you really don’t, do you?” The realization in his voice is soft, heartbroken, and your own smile slips away, looking down at your hands. You shrug lightly, picking up the fabric of your dress and folding it meekly before laying it aside. “You haven’t seen yourself since you were a child.”

“Appearances are simple accidents.” 

“Even if beauty were something to be gained, Cyare, you would still have men falling to their knees.” Your eyes drift up to his visor, wide and still, thinking of how willing he was to kneel before you, under you, and you don’t dare to breathe as his thumb traces over the plush flesh of your lips. “Mesh’la.”

The corner of your eyes squint and your lips curve into a soft smile against the tips of his fingers that hover near your chin. “Beautiful,” you murmur, the realization like a gentle hum thrumming in your veins. “That’s what it means, doesn’t it?”

His hand lowers carefully, and he nods once. You catch his hand between both of yours, appreciating the difference between the tone of your skin and the soft golden hue of his own. You lose yourself in feeling the smoothness of his palm, the curves of his fingers, your mind trying to drudge up the first time he spoke that lovely Mando’a to you. Your eyes fall closed, pressing your forehead against the gentle curve of his shoulder, and you smile when his other hand reaches up to touch your hair with reverence.

“Lay down,” he whispers, sinking his fingers through the thick tresses at your neck. “Be still.”

Your body seems to move of its own volition, and you gently lean back until you lay upon the cushioned bed. After a moment’s pause, you turn, angling your body away, and slide your arms beneath the pillow under your head, closing your eyes. The Mandalorian sighs, deep from within his chest, and there’s a long moment of silence before you hear the familiar hiss of the helmet, the catch releasing, and the quiet settling of metal upon the floor. The bed dips beside you, and he shuffles close, tucking his knees behind yours and laying his arm over your waist atop the thick fur keeping you warm.

His thumb strokes the skin of your arm exposed to the air, and you become aware of the strong, clean scent of his hair. It must still be damp from his shower, you think, and you smile when he presses his face into the pillow of your own locks.

“Karga gave me another bounty,” he whispers, his voice so low that you feel it more than hear it.

“Mmm?” 

Sleep is encroaching on your state of mind, lulling you between dreaming and wakefulness. The only thing keeping you anchored in the present is his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. He is quiet for so long that you would suspect he has fallen asleep, save for his gentle touches. His hand drops away, coming to lay his palm flat over your heart which jumps beneath. 

“It’s dangerous,” Din whispers, his lips now pressed to the back of your neck. You feel the slight tickle of his facial hair, the brush of his tongue as he speaks against your skin. The sound of his voice fades as you fall asleep, too warm, too comfortable, too safe to pull yourself back. “And...and I need to ask you something before...”

Yes, you think. Yes, yes, yes.

But now he has fallen away, and you are far gone. In the air, you can taste dust and blaster residue. The child is crying in your arms, his beautiful little face scrunched in fear and his ears drooping with desperation, silently begging you to turn back, to go back. You have both left something behind, but you know that there are monsters near, barrels trained at your back. 

I’m sorry, my love, ner ad’ika, but we can’t. 

We can’t.

Light flickers in the darkness before you, and you feel as if you’re about to fall, your toes tipping near the edge of a crevice in the earth. Beneath your feet lay battered, broken bits of armor, Mandalorian helmets too many to count, and you want to run. 

But you can’t go back.

And so, you fall forward, curling around the child before your body breaks against cold, unforgiving beskar beneath.

The undeniable crack of bone rings in your ears, a phantom of dreams that propels you straight up in bed. Sitting still, you stare into the darkness before you, your heart thundering louder than a battle, sweat slicking your skin and sticking your long hair to the sides of your face, your neck, your back and arms. Briney tears crust over your cheeks, and you breathe heavily when you feel the shift of a warm body beside you.

The lone lantern that had been left alight to glow on the small table isn’t enough for you to make out the Mandalorian’s face. When you turn to look at him, tousled in sleep and at peace, you still. His face is turned away from you into the pillow, dark hair long and curling on the ends. His shirt has rucked itself up around his middle, displaying beautiful golden skin that is greatly misshapen with jagged, uneven scars. You reach out a trembling hand, tracing one particularly deep line that mirrors an animal’s bite over his hip, and the colors remind you of the gold lacquer used to fill the cracks of broken, priceless treasures the Moff has collected. 

You look away, standing upon shaky legs to slip from the bed silently. His cloak lays on the table, and you wrap it around yourself, the familiar scent of cool woods calming your roaring heart. 

Venka and Corde sleep soundly at the opposite end of the quarters. They’ve kicked off their shared fur, and the little girl has somehow completely changed her position so she sleeps upside down. The pram floats silently nearby, and the urge to open the shutters nearly makes you vibrate. Your finger brushes over the locking mechanism, but you remember feeling the blood leave your mouth, the pain disappear, and the child fall into your arms. You pull back.

When you step into your boots, you’re unsure where you plan to go or what your intention is, but as soon as you enter the passageway, the frigid air blows your hair from your face and cools the heat of your skin. You walk down the path, drawing the cloak around your arms tighter. You can hear the reverberating snores of other warriors behind you as you leave the tunnel.

There is a possibility you will get lost, but you think it is less terrifying than returning to what woke you. 

As you move, silent save for the quiet whisper of the Mandalorian’s thick cloak, you become aware of a great and terrible sound. It is as if the stone walls have become the crypt of your dream, and you can hear its heartbeat. When the rhythm continues, a high peal of metal, you begin to follow it through the passages of stone and rock until the alcove of the forge lights your vision.

You lay your hand upon the threshold, leaning around the side in time to see the Armorer bringing her hammer down. It sends up sparks of gold and blue which ripple into brilliant red moments after they kiss the air. Whatever she holds into the forge is turned before she brings it out with tongs, setting it upon a cooling rack.

And then she turns her golden horns upon you, and you swallow.

“I often work when I cannot sleep,” she says pointedly, setting her tools down with a deliberate slowness you think might be for your benefit. She steps around to the front of her forge, holding out a gloved hand to the small table. You see, as you approach, that there is a cushion, and you sit down with a quiet thanks. She turns away, moving to the far side of the room. Blinking in the near darkness, you think you can make out a curtain separating the alcove and another space near the back. It’s a long few moments before she returns through it, bearing a tray. “What do you do, when you cannot sleep?”

You open and close your mouth, watching as she sets the tray upon the table between you. There is one clay cup full of a steaming dark drink, and on a small plate lay a round, flat cake that could sit in the palm of your hand. 

“I don’t usually struggle to sleep,” you confess, folding your hands in your lap. She nods once to the cup, and you take it with another quiet, polite word of gratefulness. The ceramic is warm between your hands, and when you lift the rim to your mouth, the scent is earthy and sweet. It reminds you of digging your hands into black soil, smelling honeysuckle just beneath your nose, and it fills you with comfort when you take a drink. 

“Only the innocent, the safe, and the dead keep that luxury.” You still, your pale eyes drifting up to the golden shine of her helm as she inclines it to watch you. “Which are you?”

Her words chill you deeper than the air around you. It’s your instinct to shy from confrontation, but something inside, a still, small voice whispers to you that this is not a battle. You take a steadying breath before sipping deeply from the drink. You set the cup down, fingers shaking as you draw them back to rest on your thighs. You think of the Moff’s wife, of your parents. “I don’t know if I have earned to claim any of those things.” 

A quiet hum comes from beneath her helmet, and she relaxes her shoulders, resting her gloves on her knees. “You doubt your place here, in the covert and in the world.”

For some reason, the gentle tone of her accusation spears you. Tycho’s strike across your face had not hurt so much as her gentle words, and you have to take a steadying breath. “Have you never felt lost?” you ask, squinting in the near darkness of your vision. “Or do all Mandalorians know their place?”

“We are Mandalorians because we were lost.” She reaches forward and begins to break the flat cake in pieces, putting them before you. With careful fingers, you pick up one of the tiny pieces and take a bite, tasting sweetened syrup, fruits, and nuts. “Each and every one of us, even those born into the Tribe will question their place. You must decide what will allow you to take yours. Is it the approval of your clan? The acceptance of the Tribe?” She pauses, her hands stilling before looking up at you. “Or ridding yourself of your fear?”

Your mouth is dry after the cake, so you take another sip of the warm drink, your heart beating heavily in your breast. “I...I think it’s all of those things. I cannot imagine being happy without all three.”

“A Mandalorian is both hunter and prey. You must not allow yourself to be consumed by lesser beings if you wish to walk the way of the clan.” You frown, opening your mouth because who or what could be lesser than a slave? Or a Mandalorian who cannot fight? Being given your freedom was more than you had ever hoped for, but now she spoke as if you had a right to claim part in their Tribe. “You are the right hand of your clan, and you fear you may crumble because you are not a mountain.” 

Your lips tremble when you smile at her. “If I can’t be strong for...for him, for the children, what use am I?”

“They don’t need your strength. They need you.” 

The simple truth brought you to a quiet within yourself you’d never experienced. Thinking on it, you knew what she meant, because it is what you feel for the Mandalorian. There is not one part of him that you care for more than the rest, and there is not one part that is more important than any other. It all makes up the man who’s held your heart for you ever since he stroked your hair in the sunshine. It is all contained within the beskar, warm and alive, and the quiet revelation that this is what he has been trying to tell you, of what you bring to the clan is yourself, leaves you shaking with heat.

The Armorer seems to sense the shift inside you, and she nods once. Her words, which are not a question, implore you when she says, “You will find your way back now.”

Your feet pad quietly but swiftly against the stone passageway, the cloak snapping behind you as you turn the corners, taking you back to the sleeping quarters. You don’t need to look to find it because there is a gentle warmth from that end of the enclave that is found nowhere else in the underground. Parting the curtain, you step inside to find nothing changed since you left, and you drop the cloak back onto the table, your pale eyes settling on the sleeping man at the far end of the room.

Dropping your boots silently near the foot of the bed, you crawl atop the fur, clumsy in your haste to get beneath and put your hands on the warm body that has not moved an inch since you departed. Your hands are cold compared to his warm skin, sliding your palm up to cup the smooth, clean shaven jaw resting upon the pillow. 

“Din,” you whisper, your thumb finding a small, thin scar on his cheek. His name tastes lovely on your tongue. “Din.”

He puffs a breath against the pillow, turning his already shadowed face into the fabric, but his hand captures yours, holding it against his chest protectively. You slide down further beneath the fur, your heart beating steadily faster. You aren’t sure what you can say, what you need to say. Sliding your leg gently between his own, pressing your knee forward, you push yourself against him until your lips steal beneath his ear, the sweet bit of skin on his neck tasting of soap and salt and heat. “Din.”

You know he is waking when his other hand finds its way against the small of your back, heavy and firm and hot through the thin material of your chemise. You close your eyes against the brush of dark, curling hair, and you smile, whispering his name softly until you know he is well and truly awake. 

“I need you to wake up,” you whisper, your lips trailing up along the shell of his ear. You feel a shiver work its way down his back, and you let your hand drift down to the hem of his shirt, still bunched around his middle. Dragging your palm over the pleasing dips and curves of muscle and softness of his body, you can feel the marks left behind from dragging your nails against him earlier. You hadn’t realized you’d marked him, and you turn your lips to find the crinkles near his eyes. 

“Why?” The question is merely a breath, sleepy yet content.

“Because I am without you.” 

You feel him tense, his back growing tight with caution, but you know inherently it is not fear that stills him. Slowly, his hand at your back circles the fleshy curve of your waist, gently leaning you back and beneath him so he can look down upon you. He is nothing but shadow, the stone ceiling above cast gold from the meager light of the lone lantern. You shift beneath him, eyes closing when you part your legs to welcome him closer, and you feel him hold his breath when he settles closer against your heat. 

“You’re never without me,” he whispers, one hand drifting up to cup the side of your face. His palm is large, dry, and warm, and when his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, you turn your face towards his fingers, kissing the smooth skin. He holds his breath as you draw your legs upward, your knees pressing into his flanks. He says your name, so soft and full of concern that you open your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, lifting your hand to touch the side of his neck. Your other splays against the middle of his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. There is too much space, too much air between you. He needs to know what you know now so completely, and you don’t know if there are words for it in any language that exists.

When he presses his forehead against yours, you slide your hand up from the side of his neck to the nape, cupping the back of his head softly. He follows your every whim, pressing his mouth against yours without fault or hesitancy, and when you curl your knees upward, he is eager to rock against you. You part your lips, welcoming him into the warmth of your mouth with a sweetness you’ve never known, but when his hands come to bury into your hair, you break away gently.

You stare up at him, bold with honesty, soft with wanting, and you know he sees in your face a conviction that has been out of your reach before coming to the covert. He does not question you, and you think you must love him for that.

For you do love him. You know that now.

Both hands drift down, fingering the hem of his shirt until he bumps his nose against your own. You think the end must be slightly hooked, the way it rests against your own, and you smile when his mustache tickles you. Lifting his shirt slowly up from his sides, then over his back, he bows his head to let you peel it off, dropping it somewhere above your head. 

Though you lay on your back, he only follows your movements, letting you lead his mouth to your lips, your neck, your hair. Your fingers crawl up to your own shoulders peeling the edges of your chemise down your arms. The neckline catches over the swell of your breast, and you can hear the gentle hitch of his breathing. He must be able to see more in the dark than you expected, and you feel yourself blush as he draws smooth, uncalloused fingers down from your throat. He traces the neckline with his thumb, brushing over your tender flesh and drawing the flimsy fabric down, down, down until it slips and pools around your waist.

When he lowers his mouth to the soft skin above your breast, pressing with lips and teeth and consecration, your eyes flutter closed. You feel like the drink you consumed, swirling and dark and hot, and with every kiss and press to your flesh, he sips more, deeper, longer. You don’t realize you are panting until you feel his own heavy, humid breath moving down the slope of your stomach. His fingers inch the fabric upward as he moves lower, and when his mouth comes to the delicate skin of your belly, you make a noise between a whimper and gasp. You try to swallow it, but he tenses anyway.

He couldn’t possibly do this a second time. Could he?

His hands flatten against the sides of your hips, and you are grateful when he doesn’t stop, when he doesn’t hesitate to curl his fingers in the top of your underwear because you don’t have the words, the air to beg him to continue. The slow pull of the fabric down your legs does nothing to disguise his want or cool your own, and you bite your lip on a giggle of surprise when he nuzzles his cheek against the inside of your knee.

He’s beneath the thick fur, but nothing could hide the smile he presses to the top of your thigh. You flinch only once, your instinct to close your legs powerful, but a quiet whisper of your name from below you grounds you against the bed.

When he puts his mouth on you, it is unlike any feeling you have ever experienced. A drumming, strumming electricity that snaps in your belly connecting to the pit of your chest, and you suck in such a sharp gasp that his hand shoots up to smother your noises, palm strong against your lips. He is gentle but fervent, kissing you open until you feel like you are living heat. His tongue trails up, pressing firm against something that has your body rolling like a cresting wave. It occurs to you as his hand keeps you quiet, the other is busy lower sliding up the back of your thigh to lead it over his back. 

And then he moans against you, and your hand comes down hard against his back again. Nails dig desperately into the hard flesh of muscle against his shoulder, and he buries his face between your thighs until you are slick with sweat, with desire, with need. He presses his thumb up the curve of your thigh, the firm pad of his digit deepening against you while he drags his mouth up to kiss wet and desperate along your stomach. 

That familiar heat, the tightness coiling like a well oiled spring, becomes undeniable when he returns his mouth to the sweetest spot on your body. Your blood sings to the drum of your heart, and the hand not anchored on his back covers his own that keeps your noises muffled. 

When his cheeks hollow with his furnace of a mouth supping between your thighs, you do break. Your vision blurs, blacks, and you can’t control your body. It’s ecstasy and fear, seizing in such joy that tears slip from the corners of your eyes to dampen your hair. It feels like a fight when your legs curl over his shoulders to hug him against you, his dutiful strokes bringing you ever higher rather than easing you down. You have to jerk away from him, arching your back and sobbing beneath his hand before he will relent. He only comes up when you sink your teeth into the flesh of his palm, the thick fur falling down his shoulders and back and leaving his hair tousled. 

His forearms rest on either side of you, his large, warm hand petting your sweat dampened hair back from your face while you lay beneath him, panting in the humid air and trying to regain what little sight you have. Your eyes feel heavy lidded when you open them, and you can see a flash of white teeth when he smiles.

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers, leaning down to press wet kisses against your salt slicked neck. The back of his knuckles brush against your belly as he shifts above you, drifting down until his fingertips find your warmth. A pathetic sound like a wounded animal tumbles from your lips, and you press your cheek into the pillow, turning your face away from the feeling he continues to draw out of you. It’s almost too much, almost hurts, but you bring your knees up higher along either side of him in welcome.

His tongue draws itself up the side of your neck, tasting and kissing in a languid pattern, combining with the gentle strokes of his hand between your thighs until you feel like you’ll burn from the inside out. Shaking, your hands find the back of his neck where the familiar soft curls tangle around your fingers. He moans at your touch, and you let your nails lightly tickle his skin until he shivers. 

He draws his face up to your own, nuzzling noses and pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your lips part, sharing the same breath and turning your mouth closer to kiss him. The taste is unimaginable, and when he dips his tongue in your mouth, you both groan together when his fingers fill you. First one, then a second, moving in time with his lips until you're gripping his hair so tightly, you’re sure that you’re hurting him.

You whisper his name against his mouth, and he gently presses his forehead against yours, nodding in some unspoken understanding. It’s a feeling that only comes from a song or a prayer, you think dreamily, only barely cognizant of him drawing his hand away to touch himself. You smile, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other tickles his flank, stroking up and down his side. You feel his lashes against your eyebrows before he draws his lips up to kiss between them. At the same time, he rocks forward, entering you with a smooth, short push that drags all the air from your body. Suddenly your nails are digging into the firm muscle of his back, surely leaving marks like the moon, and you grit your teeth, bearing them like the animal that is your heart.

“G-Go,” you whisper, tugging at his back and his neck until he groans, burying his face in your hair and filling you with one more push. Your legs draw up around his waist, tense and tight. You’re trembling, a thrashing, crashing of blood in your veins interchanging between bliss and-and-

He kisses your eyes, soft and sweet and one at a time. His hands, warm and kind, frame your face, and he draws his thumbs over both your cheeks until you open your eyes. Your chests are pressed together, making breathing a labor, but you can feel him everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Squeezing your knees together, you blink the shape of his nose into your line of sight, and you think you can see him grimace.

“Does...does it not feel good for you?” You can’t imagine or remember a time when you felt so whole. Everything is close and warm and complete, and you think you might fall apart if he so much as separates from you in that moment.

But he laughs suddenly, his chest shaking with breathy chuckles as he drops his forehead back against yours. “Alaar manda,” he whispers, gently tilting his hips back before rocking forward again, and everything within you blooms, the joy you’d felt unfurling and growing like a ripple on water. Your heartbeat quickens when he does it again, and again, and it burns you like fire catching on kindling. 

There is a slight discomfort, an awareness that you haven’t previously experienced before, but with every gentle touch, every firm, possessive kiss, you’re able to meet each sweet movement, every unhurried, pleasing roll of his body with your own. Your eyes drift open and closed, feeling drunk on the warmth shared between you. When his other hand moves to slip down your thigh, cradling your hip just in time to thrust into you with a heavier intention, both of you bite down to muffle your groans. He drops his mouth to your shoulder, dragging his teeth over the flesh and muscle that leads to your neck, and the feeling of his warm breath has you sinking your nails into his back, raking them upward to pull him closer.

The growl that vibrates in his chest is buried in your hair, and you have to cover your mouth when he begins to quicken his pace, muffling your whimpers and gasps. The faster his hips meet yours, the harder you begin rocking together, tears pearl in your eyes in absolute bliss. The hand cupping your hip slips lower to brace beneath your bottom, and you suck in a breath when you feel him press down even harder, his other hand stealing below to touch that same lovely spot he lavished attention on before. The stunted, rocky rhythm desperately increases, and you sob against your hand when you feel sweat drip from one of his curls, landing on your cheek like a tear.

His thumb circles and rubs in tandem with every hungry and insatiable thrust, and it’s only when he bows close and grunts in your ear that your entire body arches off the bed beneath you.

Your eyes are wide open, but all you see is white.

Everything feels tight and hard and impossible, and you can’t draw enough air into your chest to muster a whimper. You only focus on keeping your hand on your face, silencing the helpless noises he knocks from your mouth when he grabs one of your knees and hauls it up beneath his forearm. He presses his sweaty face against your neck, chasing his own pleasure within you until you think you might break from the ferocity burning under his skin.

When he peaks, you grab the back of his head and hold his face in your hair, muffling the primal groan that shakes his entire body. Your vision is spotty, but slowly, you can see the golden light of the lantern playing upon the stone ceiling above you, a liquid light that matches the heat between your legs. One by one, every muscle, tendon, and joint seems to relax, and you feel yourself sink back into the cushions with a grateful, anguished sigh.

Din’s arms tremble from the effort to raise himself up enough to separate you, and you grunt softly at the emptiness he leaves behind, a strange sensation you don’t particularly care for. Everything feels numb and lofty, and you don’t care to pay attention as he shuffles beneath the fur, too warm and languid to care about the world outside this bed.

He stumbles to stand up, his trousers pulled carelessly back up around his hips, and you turn your face to watch him move through the room. Your vision swims, but you can see the golden, firm muscles of his back when he crouches down to his rucksack, the scars that paint his form and in patches along his arms catching the light. You think of the Moff’s prized treasures again, formed of porcelain and glass and veined with gold where they had once been broken.

You hear a gentle chug, and Din is returning to the side of the bed, whispering, “Here.”

His canteen is filled with cold water, and you sit up gingerly, taking it with a shy smile and sipping from the cusp. You find you have nothing to say. What is there to say, when planets orbit and stars shift just as they’re supposed to, and your world settles right where it should be? Even as he reaches over to gently pull your chemise up, more concerned with your modesty than you are, you both remain in companionable silence. You peer at him in the dim lighting, wishing you could make out his face, and as you recap the canteen, you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Thank you.” 

Even as you say the words, they could be something else, some other arrangement of words you want to speak to him in his own tongue, not in the common way that would not befit an uncommon man. You think you can see his eyes in the darkness, not unlike a feline blinking slowly and satisfied. He catches your hand before it can fall and kisses the back of your knuckles, hiding a smile.

-

Mando'a Translations

Cyare - Beloved

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Ner ad'ika - "My little one."

Aalar manda - Feels like Heaven: Manda is the collective soul or heaven - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like.

-

Tag List: @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane​ @kateb013​ @yodaswrinkles​ @catsnkooks​ @notawhitegirlblog​ @ihaveashield​ @sinnamon-bunn @just-a-dreammm @tiffdawg @lackofhonor @btillys  @collectivefandom @kylolover96 @little-ms-fandom @earthtokace @blondecity @gaybroadwayloser @forever-rogue @lizajane3 @rzrcrst @themandjalorian @netflixandsnuggle @mrsparknuts @lonelystarship @adikaofmandalore @avoreahspromise @emilykjhgsj @fioccodineveautunnale @lokilover-39 @shesthelastjedi @yes-music-is-my-religion @rnlaing @peachdameron @theocatkov @mando-and-the-child @multifandom-fiasco @paryl @golden-mando @katialvi @toppaazzz @dragongirl642 @themilkface @menedraws @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @reallyfuckingangrylatina @literallytrashhhhhh @plipaya @kass-daily @ntlmundy @sikenurse @honestlystop @lukesrighthand @layla1974 @luosymekawa @bunnyart-blog @rika-cchi @chessurkitti @leo-moon @b0nchan @ladyjaye7 @benedrylcumbersnatch

#The Lovely Moons #my fic #my writing #The Mandalorian fanfiction #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x You #The Mandalorian x You #The Mandalorian x Reader #Mandalorian x Reader #Mandalorian x You #Star Wars fanfiction

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 1) Preparations

The MC doesn’t play a major role here, because there’s not much role to play. But she has a lot to say and lots of THOUGHTS.

The book is funny and I’ve kept the humor of the original novel. I also like that the MC here has a genuine sense of humor that makes her likeable and relatable to the rest of the boys.

ENJOY

There are several luxurious private rooms on the third floor of the Takamagahara for private party guests, and the spending amount is, of course, much higher than the card seats on the first floor. A guest can't go to the third floor without throwing a few million yen a night. 

The music inside the room where Chu Zihang and Caesar were hosting was deafening. You knock loudly to be heard.

"Little Sister, is that you? Don't come in!" Lu Mingfei yelled from inside. He sounds breathless, panting. In fact, when you press your ear to the door, all you hear is his heavy breathing and grunting from physical exertion. Your heart beats faster and your cheeks flush as your imagination runs wild with what must be happening. You back away from the door. You've been up to your ears in man-meat for hours so it wasn't a stretch to conjure images of Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei embracing passionately. Poor Nono. Surely Caesar wouldn't be unfaithful to her, right? You bring your fist to your lips and your heart squeezes in sympathy. 

The door swings open and Caesar appears. He's stripped down to his underwear. Your eyes snap to the gentle curve of Caesar’s crotch, which, in your alcohol-addled mind, seemed to bulge out to enormous proportions!

 He grabs your arm and drags you inside, slamming the door behind you.

Women were lying side by side on the floor, their dresses in disarray. Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang are breaking a sweat to drag all the bodies around. 

“What do you need me to do?” You stammer and glance away. Were you going to end up on the floor too?

“Just wait until we’re finished. How was your time downstairs? You seem a little tipsy. How much did you drink?” Caesar picked up a woman and settled her gently back on the couch.

“I’m not sure. I think someone kept refilling my cup.” You twine your fingers. You can't turn around and look at him in his skivvies. Nono would probably laugh at you and the rest of the girls in the Student Union might resort to mob violence!

Lu Mingfei hissed. “What? That’s awful! Someone should do something about that! Those brutes didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

You shake your head. The room tilts and you try to hide it and the fact that youre suddenly breathless. “No, nothing like that. They were just… um… Are those women drugged?” You change the subject as the memories of the physical proximity of Diamond's and Chance's lips to yours, Calypso’s unopened rose and Armani’s lustful glare spring back to mind and combine with Caesar's sudden full frontal to create a sexual kaleidoscope you couldn’t handle.

"Strong sleeping pills plus strong alcohol. They have to sleep at least until tomorrow morning." Caesar shook a small pill bottle.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous? Sounds like a great way to make them sleep forever!” You recalled heroin and vodka was strictly forbidden because combined someone could easily commit suicide.

“I made sure it was alright.” Chu Zihang said, straightening a girl’s skirt. "We have about eight hours between now and tomorrow morning, enough time to get to and from Genji Heavy Industries. We ordered enough champagne before we came in so that no waiter would come in to check on us during that time. And these women were so drunk before they arrived, they won't remember what happened tonight." 

 He straightened his back and moved to the next. “By the way, did you give out any Star-flower tickets? I would have watched but, as you can see, I had to work.”

“No… no tickets.”

“Little Sister’s purity is as strong as Fort Knox! I’m so happy!” Lu Mingfei sighed with relief. “Don't worry, we’ll be out of here before anything happens!”

“That’s a good strategy in any case. You don’t want to show your favor to anyone in the first episode…” Chu Zihang gave a sage nod and moved to the next lady.

Lu Mingfei bristled. “What kind of lewd advice are you giving, Senior Brother?”

“So what’s the plan for the Genji Building?” You ask. You calm down and feel tired and tense, but seeing them working so hard despite having one of the busiest nights at Takamagahara was inspiring. The couches looked soft and inviting but you wouldn’t look weak in front of them so you continue to stand and try to look energetic.

"Uncover the skeletons in Hydra’s closet. And while we’re there, blow shit up." Caesar lit a cigar, the firelight illuminating the colored makeup on his face. 

"There are 15 pounds of C4 explosives in the equipment box, is that enough?" Chu Zihang took out a packet of Play-Doh-like stuff from the box. 

You recognize the packets. They’re dark green and can be arbitrarily pinched into any shape. They are easy to carry and easy to use. As the world's worst terrorists, according to Hydra, C4 plastic explosives would fit your needs. 

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! What are you doing with explosives out? We are turning into the kind of people on the wanted list step by step!" Lu Mingfei exclaimed. 

"We are wanted by the police department for smuggling nuclear fuel, terrorist attacks and raping young girls. As long as we don't do that last thing, we're not on the wanted list yet." Caesar fastened the leather sheath of the Dictator on the outside of his thigh, the Desert Eagle in the holsters on both ribs, and the eight magazines filled with Frigga bullets on the side of his waist, "It won’t be that bad. Chu and I are just going to blow up Kaguya's storage core. Kaguya is the first line of defense for the Hydra Clan. We blow it up and Hydra will go blind. Norma can take advantage of the opportunity to regain control of the network within Japan." 

“Caesar?” You ask.

“Yes, hun?”

“Am I also wanted for raping girls?” You give a dry smile.

He shoots you a genuine grin and snorts.

"Do not rush to change clothes, we have to leave some evidence." Chu Zihang said. 

"Almost forgot." Caesar took off his weapons and re-dressed in the slim purple suit, "Good thing I didn't take off my makeup." 

Chu Zihang fished out a cell phone from a guest's bag and handed it to you. “Here, take our picture.”

“Got it.” You say.

Caesar sat down on the sofa, dragged a woman to his side and pressed her to his body. He stuffed a microphone in her hand, and took a microphone himself, as if he was singing. 

Then Chu Zihang sat in the middle of the guests wearing a conical hat singing birthday songs, and Lu Mingfei pretended to accompany guests drinking and playing craps. Chu Zihang and Caesar pantomimed topless arm wrestling.

For each photo, Chu Zihang and Caesar adjust the phone time, so that the guests will wake up and, after checking their phones, they’ll think they spent an unforgettable night with the beautiful boys! But, unfortunately, they can't remember any details because they drank too much and can only imagine. Looking at the phones, you’re filled with a sad sort of regret that the boys actually didn’t have fun like this.

Lu Mingfei is full of panic, "If these photos leak out our reputation is finished! But we didn't do anything at all!" 

"MC, help me check the fuses on this C4.”

You scurry over without hesitation. Caesar leans in close to you. “You know about this too, huh? First shooting, now explosives…?” He says with a grin.

“I can hotwire a car… or I used to be able to. Not sure if I can do it with the newer models. I can’t fly a plane though.” You look up at him. “I’ll be the cutest little terrorist right?”

“Are you hearing anything I’m saying?!” Mingfei whines. 

“Are you sad because you didn’t do anything, but you now have a bad reputation?" Caesar looks bored. "Then do you want me and Chu Zihang to go out and wait for you for a while, so you can earn your bad rep?" 

"Bullshit! From now on I'm going to fight alongside you guys every step of the way! You guys aren’t going to leave me to take the blame alone!"

Caesar hands you a bundle of clothing. “Here. Put these on and get ready to go.” 

You take them and quickly duck behind the couches, pulling your dress over your head and slipping out of your heels. You unfold a skintight black bodysuit that fits you near perfectly and a trench coat with the splendid Ukiyo-E on the lining, made to look like they are from the Japanese Executive Department.

“Here. Don’t use them all at once.” Caesar draped a belt with a pistol holster and pouches of ammunition over the couch. Your heart warms at the side of this deadly weaponry more than the rose of Calypso. You were finally being trusted with a gun. 

When you step back around, you're fully equipped. Your tired haze is gone and your mind is only on the mission again.

Chu Zihang put his sword on his back, slipped into a black trench coat and screwed a black baseball cap on his head. Caesar is also in a black trench coat and was covering his face in dark makeup to conceal his fair skin.

"Isn’t it a little too risky? We can barely speak Japanese. How are we going to impersonate the Executive Board? People just have to ask us something complicated and we'll be exposed!" Lu Mingfei said. 

“I know it’s hard but you could try keeping your mouth shut…” You grumble, screwing on the belt. Just putting on these dangerous weapons brought you away from the Takamagahara summer of love to the cold winter of Siberia.

"MC, be nice…” Caesar chided. 

“Of course we can't break in. Genji Heavy Industries is a heavily fortified building, as tight as the Japanese Self Defense Force headquarters. Caesar and I spent a few days researching. It is a general office building from the first floor to the twentieth floor, and above the twentieth floor is the office area used by the Hydra. Access is by access card, and there are security guards patrolling. Those security guards are all armed. Even wearing the clothes of the Executive Board, an unfamiliar face may be questioned. Not to mention, that without the help of Norma, I cannot make access cards." Chu Zihang spread out a hand-drawn map, "The only possibility is to sneak in from the sewers and enter the so-called 'inner district'. There is no access control system in the inner district." 

You remembered that they had taken the elevator down below ground when you visited the Genji Heavy Industries and you saw the huge sewer system in Tokyo. The submarine dock of the Iwarui Institute was located in a giant twelve-meter diameter pipe. 

“Shouldn't the inner district have a tighter security network than outside?" Lu Mingfei looked completely unsure. 

You’re not confident either. Looking at the map, with only one way in and one way out, you get the sense that the moment something goes wrong, you’re going to be trapped inside with the enemy. The pipe was deep and led to the ocean. Given the volcanic activity down there, if you had an opportunity to use your soul skill you might be able to open an alternate tunnel like a lava tube to escape or even block this pipe with lava on the way out. The problem is your Soul Skill is not instantaneous.

"No one knows what the security system in the inner zone is, but at least we can avoid the people coming and going by going through the inner zone passage." The map Chu Zihang drew by hand was a map of the sewer system in Shinjuku district. His finger moved along the spider web of sewer pipes, "There's a sewer right below Takamagahara. We'll follow it east, bypass under the Shinjuku subway station, and shortly after entering the main channel, we'll see Genji Heavy Industries. Total length is two kilometers." 

"It’s like we’re just going to wing it right? But come on, This isn’t some My Little Pony Ride. Genji Heavy Industries is like a rushing river, we'll be up a creek if we make one misstep." 

"How can we know if we don't try? If we get caught, we’ll kill our way out." Caesar said gently.

"Hey! Of course you two Robocops can easily kill out! Have you considered that there are still civilized and weak students in the team?”

“Mingfei,” You say softly. He looks over at you, genuinely frightened. "You think I'm weak? Who has the biggest body count for this mission?"

“Little Sister, how can you smile in such a situation. Have you lost your mind? You of all people should be on my side…”

“Don’t you remember what I did in the streets of Chizuru?”

Mingfei frowned, recalling how you killed over and over. “But it’s not right for you to be doing things like that.” 

Chu Zihang confirms your assumption. “Her Soul Skill is the first one that I’ve witnessed that is truly S-Grade.” Chu Zihang rolled up the map. “Her control of it is impressive. Her ability to misshape the earth will help us find a way out by creating a new tunnel underground if necessary, and we have scouted several promising escape routes. Not only that, Royal Fire could take down the Internet Cafe’s wooden structure, but it wouldn’t be able to shift the Genji Heavy Industries building. But her ability is likely to do it. Right, MC?”

You nod gravely.

“If it comes to that, we can threaten the entire building. They were extra proud of that building and probably wouldn't want to lose it in a tragic earthquake..” Caesar smirks.

“I still don’t like it.” 

"Then you'd better stay and take care of the girls. Watching over a dozen unclothed and sleeping women alone in a room late at night is a job for a frail scholar, right?" Caesar shrugged.

"Am I such an unkind and unrighteous person? Can I watch you two go into the dragon's den and wait here by myself? Don't answer that. Just give me a gun!" Lu Mingfei was once again bold and firm, though he gave an owlish glance at the women.

"Very well! We in the Student Council never back down from a fight!" Caesar drew out a heavy Beretta 92FS and threw it to Lu Mingfei, "I”ve been waiting to give this to you. Thirteen-round magazine, the first nine rounds are Frigga anesthesia ammunition. The back four rounds are specially designed to deal with dragons. Mercury core, blunt armor-piercing ammunition. Don't use that kind of bullets against humans or hybrids. Although mercury is not that deadly to humans, it’s troublesome after contamination, and the armor-breaking warheads will leave penetrating wounds on ordinary bodies.”

"Will there be any dragons in the Genji Heavy Industry?" Lu Mingfei thrust his gun into his back waist, "I say just load them all up with Frigga tranquilizer rounds." 

“MC was the last witness to Lenin's last voyage when a dragon embryo was sunk in a Japanese trench. They tried to kill her once before to hide what happened that day. The Japanese Hydra  leader speaks with the same Russian Accent as the MC and then turns on the Academy as soon as he thinks we’re dead at the bottom of the sea? And then tries their hardest to capture us in Chizuru? And now tries to pin us down in Japan…”

Caesar looks down at you. “MC… you were invited on this mission for a reason. I intend to find out why. I think they’re after you… more than they are after us.”

#Dragon Raja

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #jasper #the twilight saga #carlisle #twilight saga #smeyer #2008 #twilight renaissance #bella/jacob #jacob/bella #jacobxbella #bellaxjacob #fanfic #fanfiction #twilight fanfic #mine

[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART V

——————————————————————————

Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Make out 👀, mentions of drinking, mentions of blacking out, oh and in this I made Dabi a todoroki by making him ares so he's connected in that sense.

Word Count: 2,191

A/N: I feel like- shit that I've been MIA, but I really have had major struggles with my mental and physical health. I beg you, if you’re struggling with something mentally, reach out to someone. Even if you're scared please do, because it’s never easy to deal with it on your own. My dms are always open, and I don’t care if we never talked before, please don’t hesitate to dm me.

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

—————————————————————————-

Let’s retrace your steps, you went to the party, you talked to Denki, got your drink spilled on you, went to the bathroom, then- nothing. You remember nothing else. There was no way you could have got that drunk, right? Taking a bite out of the godly crepes that Aizawa made, you snuck a peak at him, blushing because he was perfect. Oh how lucky you were that he couldn’t hear your heartbeat or how it was rapidly beating against your chest. Maybe he did and was being polite and ignoring it….

“Is the headache any better Y/N?” Meeting Aizawa’s concerned eyes, you smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, thank you for the coffee and medicine. You’re a lifesaver.” Aizawa tsked at your proclamation, waving you off, “I’ve just had a few too many hangovers myself to know how much it sucks.” The corners of your lips quirked upward as you nodded, this felt so- natural… maybe a little too natural. “I can give you a ride home little goddess… if you’d like one”

Contemplating the king's words, you smiled and nodded, “I’d like that very much.”

:readmore:

Aizawa tried his best not to blush at your smile that was directed towards him, “I-you can wear one of my shirts and sweatpants if it’s more comfortable? I don’t have any female clothes… I apologise” Why was it that finding out he had no female clothes made you happy? Maybe it’s because of the hint behind it, that he has no female clothes because there are no females over at his house. Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s fine, it’s not your fault. But I could use a jacket or sweatshirt… it’s rather chilly here”

Chuckling, Aizawa nodded and leaned on his palm looking at you, “This is the underworld… Plus I may be friends with Hizashi but I don’t think I could handle him around so much to help bring sun here.” Giggling You smiled at the man, goosebumps running over your skin as a shiver went down your spine. “I rather favor the moon myself” Bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you blushed at your own comment about your mother, thinking how you probably sounded silly. But, amidst Your self doubt, the ravenette laughed, almost a sparkle in his eye. “I think that’s a rather biased opinion, wouldn’t you agree?”

Laughing, you blushed as you nodded, “I think I should be allowed the bias, wouldn’t you agree?” Aizawa shrugged slightly, a teasing look in his eyes as both elbows laid in front of him, letting him lean forward, “You don’t see my favouring Titans now do you? And I am the son of two of them.”

A giggle left your lips as you brought the warm coffee up to your lips and took a sip, “Hmm… touché”. Aizawa sighed in content before slightly frowning as he remembered you can’t stay here… you have a life beyond this place. You didn’t belong being trapped here with him. You deserved so much more in his eyes. Noticing his cold, yet warm stare, you tilted your head as you met his eyes. “Shouta?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he blushed slightly before coughing to try and cover up his embarrassment, “I- sorry… I was just daydreaming I guess.” Cracking a slight smile, you could see his teeth that were just begging to be shown on full display, but of course they never were. The thought alone of being able to make shouta smile like that, made your heart warm in funny ways. They always did say that god's feel stronger emotions than any other being.

They love faster. They love harder. But they also fight harsher. They also hold grudges the longest. And they also feel the worst of pains. Sighing, you just finished your coffee before a shiver ran down your spine. “Ah, that’s right, you need something warmer” Blushing at his own forgetful mind, shouta walked until he was out of the kitchen and rummaging through his closet for something warm.

*•*

Being left alone gave you more time to look around and appreciate every little detail of the king's house. Taking in the details you started thinking of what it would be like to live in such a house, to dance around on the marble floors. To have x amount of bedrooms to choose from. To sit in the study with the king himself while reading a book that can’t even be found anymore…

“I got you a crew neck sweater of mi- Y/N?” You jumped slightly as you didn’t even hear him coming, blushing you moved to cover your face. “Oh gods- I’m sorry! I was lost in thought.” Smiling at your flustered face, Aizawa moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your wrists gently to tear your hands away from your beautiful face. “Don’t Apologize little goddess, wasn’t I just the one spacing out?”

Peeking up at him, you automatically loosened up from his soft look and touch. Nodding softly to agree, because you couldn’t trust your voice to be straight. There was something so peaceful about the silence that surrounded the both of you, it was so quiet that all that filled the air was your own breaths. In such a trance, neither of you noticed how close your faces had got, not until your lips feathered against each other.

Eyes now only focusing on the temptation of kissing the king's lips, to taste him, to devour him. Your rational side flew out the window as you stood straighter and finally gave into your desires. Shouta wasted no time kissing you back, large hands cupping your cheeks as your own gripped onto his robe. If there was any plus side to how gods feel, it was that they wasted no time in showing the passion you were bound to create.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, almost asking if he could explore you more, and how could you say no to a king? Lips parting, your tongues moved one another as shouta got more dominant with his movements. Hands moved from your face to cup your ass and place you on the counter, your legs spreading to let him be as close to your body as possible. The simple motion was graciously accepted by the man as he held your waist to hold your body against his. Breaking away slightly for air, you both panted as you stared at each other, almost as if you were both giving the other an out if they didn’t want to do this.

Neither of you spoke as Aizawa dipped down once more to capture your lips in a much slower, but much sweeter embrace. Your hands crept up to cup his jaw, just holding him there as this kiss spilled more feelings then the one before. No longer did you need that sweater as your body was hotter than it ever was, not to mention how the Male in front of you was warm and welcoming. Against his better judgment, Aizawa pulled away once again, letting his eyes close as he rested his forehead on your own, lips grazing your nose in a loving manner.

Taking this time, you observed the man up close for the first time, taken away with how truly beautiful he was. Fingers gently brushing the scar that rested on his cheek bone, mouth forming into a frown as you thought about what could have happened. Almost like reading your mind, his deep voice broke the silence, “I got it from the war… There's many more where that came from, but that’s the price for how we live today.”

Dark eyes finally opening to meet your own that were full of warmth and comfort, Aizawa merely moved to hug you close as his head nuzzled itself into your shoulder. Something so soft coming from the one they deemed the scariest god, was truly surprising, but you didn’t let it sway your motions as you hugged him back, one hand finding itself in his hair. “I hope you don’t think of me as a man who does this with just anyone… I would very much like to take you out tonight if you’d all-”

“I would love to Shouta… a-and I don’t. Think like that I mean… I hope you don’t think I’m a goddess who just kisses men whenever she wants.” Your voice Interrupting his own, but it wasn’t unwanted. As soon as your voice disappeared from the air, Aizawa was already answering. “I don’t. I think rather highly of you little goddess. Higher than most.”

Smiling at his comment, you moved your head so you could press your lips to his temple softly. Leaning your head on his, you let your eyes close to enjoy this moment, wanting to bask in all its glory before it inevitably had to end.

*•*

As you thought, the moment wasn’t meant to last forever. Interrupted by a loud bang that represented a door being kicked down, followed by a loud, “I AM HERE FOR FAMILY LUNCH!”. Groaning, Aizawa quickly picked you up off the counter and placed you back onto your own two feet. It would have seemed rude if he hadn’t quickly placed the sweater on your figure and stood in front of you, wanting to hide you from his annoying brother.

Trying your best to stay hidden behind the dark haired man, you both could hear the loud stomps coming towards you. Quickly thinking, Aizawa turned around to face you, giving you an apologetic look as he did, “Trust me I’m saving us both from a lot of trouble” and before you could respond, lips met your forehead in a rushed kiss and you were suddenly back at your house. Of course he fizzed you back… come to think of it, you could have also done that this morning… oh well you made out with him because you had a dumb moment.

Back in the underworld, blonde tufts came into view and Aizawa gave him a bored expression, “and you barged into my house, because?”. Toshinori just laughed before ruffling Aizawas hair, “Older brother, have you forgotten what day it is? Rei sent me just to pick you up since we all know you like to skip or show up late. So for now I’m your chauffeur for family lunches!” With his eye twitching, Aizawa knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Grumbling, he walked past his brother and quickly changed into a more casual outfit of a black turtleneck and dark grey dress pants.

Without even stopping for toshinori, Aizawa walked past him just mumbling about how no one has boundaries or respect. The blonde merely laughed before walking with him to the car, but of course not mentioning the heels he saw next to his brother's front door.

The drive was nothing but quiet and longer than it seemed. Aizawa had no intention of making small talk with his brother, since he had rudely interrupted his morning. His morning with the goddess that seemed to have latched onto his heart, with no intention of letting go, not that he minded. As they arrived at the glorious manner of the golden royals of Olympus, they were greeted with a yelling Touya- no Dabi now since he wanted to separate himself from his father as much as he could.

Eyebrows furrowing, Aizawa could See Natsou already with a glass of wine, laughing at how his father tried dodging his brother's angry attacks. Shouto on the other hand, was making deadly knives and giving them to his brother to help him. Fuyumi was trying to stop them both as rei just smoked a cigarette on the side, looking at the men with an unamused expression. Fuyumi quickly thought of a plan to stop the god of war, aka her brother, from killing her father. Of course she was able to stop them since she was the goddess of war, her brother's counterpart.

Once it was all calmed, the brothers got out of the car, preparing themselves for an interesting family lunch.

——————————————————————————

Taglist; @present-mel

@maya-ngpirit

@a-match-into-themoon

@nhievyenne

@negansnumberonewifie

@darkqueenhyde

@minfani

@creolemimi

@lhcartoonist

@fairy-inthegarden

@taylor----wonderland

@the-british-koala

@leeeah-loooser

@vinaios

@astralvante

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #ely here #mha aizawa #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fanfiction #littlegoddessfic #mha toshinori #mha dabi #mha shoto todoroki #mha fuyumi #mha enji #mha rei #mha natsuo #im back lovelies

[cross-d-a]

fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~!  ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!! 

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms: 

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou). 

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things. 

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes: 

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on: 

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane. 

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically. 

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written: 

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

 Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on: 

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic: 

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic: 

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks: 

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: 

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse  @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#cross talks #my fic #fanfiction #uhhh what else do i tag this as i dunno #about me #cross posts #wip fic

[lalaytight]

NCT 127 + Sungtaro as Uni Students

-Information Prior to Reading-

Clearing - When applying to University after the official date of the A level results, national results, the clearing section opens which allows people who did not get the required grades or have changed their mind in term of courses, apply to university and get a spot.

Dissertation - he final project completed in the last year of University, is normally around one set topic and makes up a good chunk of the final grade awarded at the end of the course.

Pre's - Stands for Pre Drinks a social event where alcohol is consumed prior to going to the clubs.

Masters- A second degree normally 12-18 months long in addition to the bachelors degree when you first graduate. Normally more specific than the first degree.

Gap Year- A year taken between finishing up school and going off to university, normally spent either saving for university or more commonly travelling the world and 'finding' yourself in a third world country on a beaten path.

Pull/ going on the pull- The act of trying to get a date or take someone home with you whilst on a night out in the clubs/ pubs. Can be either successful or unsuccessful but is a great past time.

Tactical chunder-  The act of throwing up whilst drunk in order to sober yourself or remove some of the alcohol from your body. Is often done to make room for more alcohol.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, overall shenanigans, phallic imagery (?), Illegal substance usage

Moon Taeil

Taeil is studying a Chemisty Masters. He completed the undergrad and met a girl. The year below and didn't want to do long distance. So he signed up for a master's course so they could stay in the same area. And he has to admit it was definitely a good choice. Not only is he not having to worry about getting a job, loosing his missus to someone else or having to part from his mainly younger best friends.

He considers himself old now and therefore, isn't involved in any of the society's or sports clubs. He also can't be bothered, not between labs and reports he's got to write. He can barely make time to play fortnite yet alone serious sports. But he will sneak into any of the parties being hosted by the societies his friends are a part of. Will bring his own bottle of Gin and never take it home but its all about the atmosphere. And hanging out with his friends.

In class, Taeil works with the same lab partner for everything. He hasn't changed since September and has no intent to. He's not big on making more friends than necessary and he's got this tight bond with his current partner and therefore, doesn't bother looking for anyone else if they have to do group work. He's studious and his reports are always written well. There's also a little smiling moon placed in the top corner of any one he has to print out. It's completely against the guideline published but its so cute he gets away with it each time. Plus he's also a major teacher's pet and will stay late to help clean the lab after a session.

On a night out Taeil is plastered. He's drunk out of his mind but it's the way he likes to be. He's buying everyone drinks. His bank accounts hurts at the end of the night but he only sees it as a good night. He has no interest in pulling or trying to flirt with anyone he's a committed man. But he will attempt to help his other friends settle down. Therefore, he's everyone's wingman. A shit one but its the effort that counts. If he's lost he's by the bar ordering shots for someone he thinks is sobering up too fast.

John Suh / Johnny

What would the great Johnny Suh study at university. Well its nothing you expect it to be. He's studying building surveying. Yeah you heard that right. And he's so proud of it. The looks he gets when people ask him what he does and that's his answer. This big tall buff guy who kinda screams like he's studying something sporty. He's all about buildings. Wont even try to say he's doing archetecture. Rather he'll just bring out a folder of photos on his phone which are just him in his High Vis Jacket in a multitude of poses.

Johnny is the captain of the Rugby team, that's how he met and then adopted Jeno. He can be seen only on Wednesday at the student night wearing his rugby uniform, the university mascot drawn on his face and a bottle of beer in his hand. He starts the sing along of the rugby boys as they walk through campus. You'll know the one, where they talk or chant about their appendages. He cheers the loudest when one of the newer players join in

In class Johnny is that one guy that everyone loves. He's fun he's entertaining and he's just so nice. He's always there to help his other peeps when they're struggling responding to the questions in the course group chat on Facebook. He send's merry Christmas and happy holidays messages without fail. The cutest little messages and stuff and if you didn't expect this great six foot something guy behind the screen you'd be correct. He's so nice and polite and seemingly hard working that he can get away with anything. You wouldn't notice that he does fuck all in a group project. He's just so present you think he's contributed loads. Until you notice the only writing he has on the entire worksheet is his name.

Johnny is the ultimate party planner. He's always responsible for organising the house party or pre's and he gets absolutely everyone around. He know's Jeno and next thing you know the rest of the younger guys are round his house and Johnny's suddenly got like 7 20 something year old sons. He's bringing all the snacks and an endless supply of Magners. Anyone wants a drink, help yourself. On a night out he's the first to break off from the group. He's straight to the smoking area to light up his juul. He spends a little too long there cause he's too busy flirting but he leaves with their insta and then goes to try and bully Mark onto the dance floor. But when Mark protests and he's told to leave Taeyong's son alone, his best partner is crime Jaehyun is right by his side to go thot drop to the 90s club hits playing on the floor.

Lee Taeyong

Taeyong is another masters student. His first degree was in illustration and he hated it. Completely put him off art. He never wanted to draw for a living ever again. Never again. But he didn't know what to do with his degree. That was until he went to a careers event and there was an art therapist present, and he knew this was his calling. Or perhaps he was desperate and the way the man talked seemed to draw him in. Therefore, his masters is art therapy.

Taeyong used to be the president of the music society, and he could have stayed on another year when he started his masters. But he decided to take a step back and instead focus on his studies. Or at least pretend to. Now he just focuses on not killing his housemates and wondering why he stayed in a student house for another year. Not when he could have afforded a studio apartment.

Taeyong feels a new life for art by doing his masters course. He's slowly falling back in love with the thing his first degree ruined for him. And the therapy side is so interesting and new to him that he's constantly amazed. To the point where he goes and actually does the further reading. He might be the only one in the class to do so but that doesn't stop him. The lecturers love him because of his genuine interest in the subject and he always gets the opportunity for anything cool they put on. His interest though can be a little dangerous as he's constantly testing his new techniques out on his roommates and if he has to see one more dick drawn by Yuta one of them will not be attending lectures the next day.

Taeyong contrary to popular belief is not the mom friend on a night out. He is the next morning. But on the night out he's wild. A lightweight who sticks to drinking wine only, he likes to belief he's the light and life of the party. He isn't really but he is the one on the tables at the club throwing the best dance moves. Every time he hits the dance floor its like he starts a performance and you can't take your eyes away. Somehow he's still in control of his movement. It's a miracle but he does it somehow. And the next morning he refuses to admit he was once again performing at the club like he was on a stage in front of millions as he's forcing bread down the throats of every single housemate.

Nakamoto Yuta

Yuta doesn't seem to be a big reader when you look at him. You'd never think he'd spend most of his university time bent over a book reading it to be able to write the report about it. Probably because he doesn't but he's an English Literature student nevertheless.

Yuta belongs to the football, soccer, club and is the captain. He takes great pride in his team but will not hesitate to do a fun meaningless game often. In fact he was the one who suggested to Johnny that the football and the rugby team should play eachother at tennis of all sports to see who was the superior. Before a big match Yuta attempts to organise more practice, but its never okayed by the coach. He still goes to the pitch to wait and is disappointed every time when nobody turns up to his unofficial training session.

Yuta loves his English literature class. Mainly because they do deep dives into the book and he secretly does love reading he just doesn't like being told what books to read. He's passionate about Brontè and can tell you almost anything about the twilight universe. But he absolutely refuses to read the books for the assignments. Rather he'll scroll his way through a couple summaries, a wikipedia page and one of those websites that publish old essays instead. His grades are high and he's yet to be caught not having read really any of the books they've worked on. Rather he just flings around the terminology and hopes its actually being used. Yuta attends every lecture, not because he wants to learn. Rather because he loves going in to his class and talking to the rest of the students on his course. He's a part of a mainly female friendship group and he's not hesitant to tell them when they deserve better than the guy that's stringing them on. He's always there to remind them how they truly deserve to be treated and point out the red flags when the girls try to justify staying with them. He wouldn't ever date any of them, and he's sure many of them think he swings for the other team only. But like he's not going to protest. Unless they're being mistreated by their partners and they need to wake up. He also makes a small fortune selling his old notes to students in the year below, Jaemin has set up a monthly subscription pay to ensure he gets all the notes he can't be bothered to take.

At a party Yuta can be found drinking some sort of liquor and chatting to Doyoung in the corner. The pair are laughing like school girls and having the times of their lives. If you ever approach expect to be disgusted and possibly confused considering how much of a strong feminist he is. The pair can be found having the most controversial conversations possible. Yuta just wants to argue though and Doyoung presents a very good opportunity. When asked later he will never deny what you heard nor excuse his words, only gives a meek smile and then disappears. He's found in the grimiest bathroom normally and he's not alone. Let's leave that one up to the imagination. But he's the self proclaimed king of one night stands.

Kim Dongyoung / Doyoung

Doyoung was confused at first over what subject to take. He was torn between law and criminology. To the point where he had applied and had offers for both courses some of which being at the same university. However, when it came to results days he ended up on the criminology course. He's not pressed though.

Doyoung is not involved in any societies or sports. However, he is pretty involved in another aspect of the university community. He's very frequently involved in the university confessions page on Facebook. He's actually one of the admins. And he loves to approve and post the more controversial confessions. Especially the ones which are most likely to cause massive arguments between courses. He'll accept the confession post it and then just sit back and watch the chaos. He's Admin C.

Class wise Doyoung loves the argumentative side of the subject. Why wouldn't he be involved in the discussions and debates. It's his favourite part and he's always team captain. But when it's normal classwork he's just as involved. In his opinion if he's paying all this money for the course he's going to get as much out of it as possible. He'll do the snazzy presentation for your group project with the transitions background noises and memes. You get high scores because of this presentation. He's top of the class and has no intent of letting that position go to someone else.

On a night out he can be seen purposefully trying to stir the pot. He's a shit starter and proud and its even worse when drunk. You think someone is looking at you funny, he'll say they are and then go with you to confront them. He'll talk about something controversial and try to play devils advocate just to watch your reaction. He is also the one to have the evidence of what happened on his snapchat the next morning. A useful ally to have if you want those pictures deleted.

Jung Yoonoh/ Jaehyun

Big, tall, kinda scary looking Jaehyun is studying education. He's always wanted to be a dad, but his parents warned him of the problems of being a teenaged dad. And then again at having kids really young before you have the money needed to support them. So he had to suck up the desire to be a father until he found an happy alternative. Enter Jaehyun studying to be an Early years, ages 4-8, teacher. He can be the school father to these children and then hand them back to their parents in the afternoon.

Jaehyun used to be part of the football team until he realised he couldn't be bothered. He then tried to dabble in some of the societies but he couldn't find one he enjoyed. Rather he settled in becoming one of the campus crushes. Running a successful instagram account and taking a part in the social media take-over event the student union hosted.

Jaehyun loves his course only when he's out working on placement within the school setting. He hates the class work. But when he's in class that's where he shines, well most of the time. He loves the kids, and they love him. The bond he builds is so strong and it normally works very well in his favour the class listening to what he wants them to do and everything generally seems to go well for him. He's also a hit with the female teachers who are supervising him. To the point where he can get away with nearly anything. He'll never forget the one time he turned up after a heavy night out, hanging out of his boots, to the point he was throwing up in the students toilet and he's charm and good looks meant the female teacher he was working with let him off the hook. He swore never to drink again before going to work but he totally owed it to her for not reporting him to the university for being completely out of sorts to the point where he just put on a film all afternoon and snoozed on the desk.

When he's not got work the next morning Jaehyun is down for the longest night out he can muster. He will drag everyone to the one club that closes at 6am. By the end of the night there's only a few strong solider's left, namely Johnny, Yuta Jungwoo and himself, but he'd never stop. His wallet hurts after paying all the entry fees but it was completely worth it. His favourite student night is the naughties night that is hosted every term, he's screaming along to Beyonce and Fall out boy all night along. He's hit hard by the hangover the next morning but his cuddle buddy Taeyong is more than used to it by now and the pair sit watching reruns of Judge Judy and feeling sorry for themselves.

Dong Sicheng/ WinWin

Included in WayV link pending

Kim Jungwoo

Jungwoo might arguably be the smartest of the bunch and he won't let you forget when he's proudly stating he studies Engineering. He deserves to as well cause the course is hard. He's a mathematical genius and he's dream is to go on to study robotics afterwards.

Jungwoo is a proud member of the Harry Potter society. Well kinda, his housemates all know he's a part of the society and he's very active talking about it to them all. But he won't actively tell people he's apart of it outside his close friends. It's mainly because he's embarrassed that he's one of the younger members normally heavily surrounded by middle aged women. But he wouldn't leave, he's too deep in the fan fiction they're collectively writing. #JusticeforWolfStar.

Jungwoo is relatively quiet in class choosing to stick with his selected course mate group. He doesn't tend to speak to anyone outside his tutor group and instead focuses more on just trying to pass each assignment sent his way. He does try his hardest to stay on top of the work assigned for him, and tries to put his effort in. But as he gets closer and closer to the end of the course he cannot find it in himself to put as much effort in as he did in his second year, he was pissed or high for most of his first year to say he was putting his uttermost effort in. He is however, well known for bringing the best weed brownies to the tutor group parties. It's a secret recipe he refuses to tell anyone how he does it.

If you've lost Jungwoo on a night out he's 1000% in the smoking area. If he's not lit up he's sat there chatting people up left right and centre. It's his favourite socialisation point and he states he can always find the most interesting people in the smoking area. And normally get a couple of free cigarettes out of it. He's the first to ask if you've got a lighter he can use. He's a big fan of hitting the gay club at about 3am because their drinks are normally cheaper and it stays open the latest. Also because there's a chance he'll bump into a drag queen.

Mark Lee

Included in NCT Dream's version

Lee Donghyuck/ Haechan

Included in NCT Dream's version

Osaki Shotaro

Shotaro is another student studying theatre studies. At first he wanted to just study Dance but then decided he liked the idea of studying more of the entire theatre style. So he randomly applied for one theatre studies course. He was accepted and didn't look back.

Therefore, as part of the group studying theatre he has to take part in the productions the university put on. Well it's not a exact demand for the course but it's heavily implied. And Shotaro doesn't mind, especially when he successfully lands the role of Dance captain every single time. It's his favourite thing to go up to the cast announcement list and see his name next to dance captain. He also loves attending all the costume fittings ensuring to arrive as early as possible and drag it out for a little while longer. It's most likely because he's got a crush on one of the students working on the costumes, but he's way too shy to actually ask them out.

Shotaro can normally be found staying late in some of the practice rooms. Despite his dancing skills, being part of the theatre course means he has to be involved in the other sides and his confidence is lacking. Therefore, he is working his hardest until he feels like he's on par with some of the other students. He mainly gets help from Haechan who's taken a liking to the other boy and the pairs mutual love for Justin Bieber solidified their friendship.

Another lightweight, Shotaro is cautious of how much he has to drink at any point of the night. He likes to still be in control and therefore has never been black out drunk. But he has tried a little bit of everything. Plus Yuta has practically adopted him on nights out and therefore, if Shotaro is tempted for a drink he'll get one but never has to pay for it. And no Yuta doesn't pay for it either but they do con some unsuspecting person into paying for them both.

Jung Sungchan

Sungchan was another confused at first on which subject he wanted to study at university. He was torn between just Media and then the more specific Film Studies. Though after one very intense talk from a Film studies tutor at sixth form he did chose Film studies.

He's also involved in the school productions, he has the responsibility of filming the performances, well at least one or two of them, so that they can upload them to the theatre society's YouTube channel. He is also in charge of organising the lightening of the show when he's not working the camera. When he has to focus on the recording he just ends up praying the lightening works as he leaves it partially under the control of Jisung and knows if he dares has a go at the societies baby he's dead.

Sungchan is that one member of the class who seems to always have the best editing software on his laptop and the most intense amount of knowledge regarding it. When anyone asks he only states it because he didn't want to look like an idiot on his first couple days. The truth is that he runs a rather successful YouTube channel where he makes edits and crack videos. Sony after effects is his best friend.

On a night out Sungchan lets loose. He absolutely loves the feeling of alcohol in his system. He becomes clumsy and for his size it can cause many problems but he wouldn't have it any other way. He tends to have to be guided through a dance floor by someone else to avoid bumping into people and spilling his over priced double vodka and coke. He's desperate to head for food at about 2am and rushes to follow someone the instant they mention being hungry.

#nct127 #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct imagines #college au #university au #thecollegeaunooneaskedforpart2 #nct au #nct drabbles #sungtaroareincludedtoo

[nightshadedawn]

A while back I had an idea for a dark academia inspired interactive fiction story, where the MC is player created and controlled, starting off as a freshman at this school called Rosa Maria Conservatory. They join this boarding house, some call it Wright Manor, some call it the Wright House, but only those with nowhere else to go or the very stupid stay there. There would be several others staying there, all from different grades and studies. The owners of the house are called only Master and Mistress, and there's a mysterious person call The Mute Musician roaming the halls. It starts off simple enough, with the occasionally spooky rumors about the house going about. But then people start getting hurt, or dying, sometimes both. The player's choices would determine who lives, who dies, what clues they find, and if said clues are even correct. There would be multiple different endings, seeing as half the housemates were romanceable and everyone had the chance to die, in creative ways.

Unfortunately, I moved onto other things because it sounded too complicated for me to actually pull off. However, I made some colleges of some of the characters for you to enjoy. All pictures under the cut.

Theodore King - 22, senior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, law Major, brown, black hair, brown eyes.

The oldest of all the students who live in Wright Manor, and the only one who openly claims to have talked to Master and Mistress. He is very tight lipped about anything about them, though the rest of the time he is inexplicably kind and helpful.

Fredrick Cook - 22, junior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, no major, brown, auburn hair, green eyes.

Doesn’t seem to have any direction, particularly when you add on the fact he’s retaking his junior year, and is usually found in Master Wright’s study with a bottle of classy alcohol, or in the wine cellar below the kitchen. Talks like he knows the Master and Mistress, though.

Elizabeth Huges - 19, a new student enrolled in Rosa Marie Conservatory, journalism major, black, black hair, brown eyes.

Is very passionate about not using technology, but still keeps up with current events like none other. Collects old newspapers.

Carmen and Maria Bennet - 20, sophomores at Rosa Maria Conservatory, Art majors, identical cousins, hispanic, brown hair, brown eyes.

They are rather attached at the tip and have been confused for twins more often than not. They play it like so so often that it’s a reasonable confusion.

Daisy Martin - 21, junior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, music major, white, black hair, brown eyes.

The quietest of the bunch. Is the only one who has ever come across The Mute Musician. Often has duets with him from different ends of the house. Due to her shy nature, she’s almost as mysterious as The Mute Musician himself.

James Clark - 19, a new student enrolled in Rosa Marie Conservatory, photography major, white, red hair, brown eyes.

A little snark is good for your life, he believes. He hangs old photographs of people he doesn’t know around his room. Has three different cameras, but doesn’t use one because he swears it can predict someone’s death.

Oscar Ward - 21, junior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, English major, white, brown hair, blue eyes.

Believes that writing is meant to be done a certain way, and writes very professionally, without any heart in it. Does much research and spends hours in the library. Is a foreign exchange student from England.

Louis Harrison - 21, junior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, white, brown hair, brown eyes.

Believes that rules in writing are for cowards, and any rule made for structure is meant to be broken. Puts all of his heart into everything he writes and spends hours in the library. Is a foreign exchange student from France.

Florence Shaw - 20, sophomore at Rosa Maria Conservatory, medicine major, black, black hair, brown eyes.

Studies old medicine books more than her newer ones, looking for hints and the through process behind them rather than the actual studies. She uses just as many old midwife cures as she does for modern medicine. Own a plague doctor mask.

Catherine Davis - 21, junior at Rosa Maria Conservatory, criminology major, Korean, brown hair, brown eyes.

Isn’t as at ease in the house as everyone else slowly becomes the long they stay there. Is there to investigate this creepy house and its inhabitants. Carries a notebook everywhere, and no one can take it from her or look at it.

I have other characters that live in Wright Manor, so I might make more colleges later on, but here's what I've got for now.

#dark academia #poc dark academia