#this might be added to or edited a thousand times after its posted as all my posts are

[brainworms-all-night-long]

So some time ago I made a "Nine makes a fake paradox prism shard" post more or less as crack idea and reference to Tails being able to create a fake chaos emerald

I gave more brainjuice into it and a crack idea turned into a god damn fanfiction in my head and I need to dump it all in here before I forget. This whole thing is probably gonna be incoherent and stupid when put under the smaller semblance of logical thought but could still be a silly AU idea!!!

So, if I recall correctly, Shadow has a chaos emerald on him right? Concider Sonic has an outlandish plan for Nine to make 6 more one-off chaos emeralds (because Tails managed to make one when he was under a time crunch nontheless) so he could go super and overthrow the Chaos Council once and for all.

Nine obviously argues that that's the worst idea Sonic has had yet and that if such power ended up in the council's hands there would literaly be no way to do anything anywhere anymore. Sonic emphasizes that they're supoused to be for one use only and loose all their power once his super deeds are done, with the emeralds turning into nothing but useles pieces of rocc. Than Shadow chimes in saying the same as Nine, while adding that the fox also has no chance of even attempting to make a sustainable fake emerald to synergize into a superform. Which is what slightly ticks Nine off and says that yes if his..other version can, so can he, do not ever underestimate him.

Something something research montage along with the rebelion preparing for the last battle until everything is set and done.

Since the fake emeralds trully have no way of reaching the potential of the real deal, Sonic's superform is much weaker, yet against all odds, the chaos Council is overthrown, not expecting sunch a strong blow from the resistance with both a literal demigod and a unltimate lifeform beating the shit outa them. The rebellion sings their preaises to Sonic and Shadow (some even aknowledge Nine woa) than immidietaly takes comand over the city, disabeling Rusty and freeing the city as much as is possible in that given moment.

Note that once Sonic's superform wears out, the fake emeralds break apart and get reduced to useless pieces of glass scattered all over the ground, while the real one conveniently lands right next to Nine's shoes.

And while the rebellion is too busy celebrating their victory Nine stares at the emerald, grabs it and recalls all he's learned about it from his research. It can allow you to teleport, create portals, travel trough time, serve as a nearly unlimited energy source, enhance one's physical capabilities, turn thoughts into reality....

A sentance he though about for a while. And all that he could do with such power.

He takes the emerald in his hands and attempts a teleport with it, just like he saw the black and red hedgehog— Shadow— do on a couple of ocasions. He was not needed here anymore, his job was done. Not even noticing the confused and untrusting faces of the hedgehogs that turned to check back on him, all his attention was focused on the warm, slowly pulsating green gem in his hands.

He dissappears in a blink, receiving a whiplash he both was and wasn't expecting, as he reapears back near the shatterdrive left outside the Chaos Council's building, nearly stumbling into it in his disorientation.

After this fight New Yoke no longer had it's cruel dictators, hopelessness, power source and a genious little fox inventor who's help would've been more than appreciated by the resistance as of now. Yet it gained freedom, a new chance, beacons of hope in the two particular hedgehogs, now stranded with no way of traveling trough or fixing the shatterverse as they overlook glimpse of a portal closing on the crimson sky. An uneasy hint of betrayal pooling in their gut.

Which there shouldn't be. Nine held up his end of the bargain; he created the emeralds and assisted the resistance until victory. He never once said he'd stay in the city after all was over.

If Sonic liked and wanted to save New Yoke oh so much, he could stay there. Really. with now both the Shard and the Chaos emerald in his possession, Nine could finally create his own perfect world within the Grimm. And he definitely didn't want or need anyone else in it.

#sonic prime #the brainroooot #this might be added to or edited a thousand times after its posted as all my posts are #i dont know if the emerald could just straight up conjure up buildings and shit #idk how that works exactly #but like nine can freely travel trough the shatterverse #he could get some water from the pirate AU some greenery from da jungle and maybe if he really absolutely has to #some scrap from new yoke #he can make his perfect home now #hhhhh #lots of thought about this #nine the fox #one day I will also learn how to do the cut/show more thing on tumblr too #shadow the hedgehog #i'll tag him #hes mentioned there trice so it counts #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #silly brainworms #miles nine prower

[timberwind]

Yarragardee Basin, Mangala, 7995 A.D.

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

Accompanying music: You’re On Fire by They Might Be Giants. Summer road trip music of all time, in my opinion.

Here’s a little expository write-up on the history and geography of the worlds shown here. Someday I’ll have more to show of the personal story of these two critters and their travels; until then, a more macro-level description.

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

Mangala and its sister world Kahira (visible in the background) are binary planets, orbiting one another in a manner not entirely unlike that of Pluto and Charon in the Solar System. Mangala is a relatively small world - just about twenty percent the mass of the Earth, something like if you took two copies of Mars and smushed them together; without the internal heat to drive a carbonate cycle long term, it had long been a frozen, dusty, and arid place when transhumanity first established a permanent presence in the Tahoka system some four hundred years ago. Since those early days, terraforming using a Birchian soletta system (a huge but foil-thin Fresnel lens of mirrors, with a secondary focal lens for burning atmospheric gasses out of the regolith) has rendered it shirtsleeve habitable to baseline humans across much of the surface, although the global water inventory remains low* and the air in the “continental” uplands is stratospheric, with only the hardiest lichens establishing a foothold. Most of Mangala’s major metropolitan areas are located in the deep rift valleys and basins, where air pressure is highest.

Kahira on the other hand, a rock almost a fifth the mass of its sister world (a little under the mass of old Mercury), remains unterraformed - surface conditions are persistently cold, with a thin barely-Martian atmosphere. Some of its larger rift valleys and craters have been tented over, aerated, and planted with tall low-gravity forest and grassland, a style of habitat construction dating back to the first Mars colonists almost six thousand years ago. Industrial complexes and buried cities sprawl out across the bare surface of the moon, with huge low-gravity lava tubes seeing extensive urban development.

The Yarragardee Basin, pictured above, is a graben basin in Mangala’s northern hemisphere, notable for the historic industrial city of Tirupati - here we see two road-trippers between cities on the basin’s great plain, taking a break in the long late afternoon of a sunset-day***. Having stopped for a night at a motel near Tirupati’s aerospace complex, they’re now continuing their journey to the city of Redmond-Tonasket, located in the Woronora Valles trench system about two thousand kilometers to the southwest.

* While plenty of water could have been imported from Tiandonias’s cometary halo, it was decided not to do so in order to avoid inundating pre-existing cities in the valleys and deep basins. The extremely humid hothouse conditions that come after slamming dismantled ice moons through the stratosphere at over six kilometers a second were also broadly considered unacceptable.

** Smaller worlds have been terraformed in transhuman space, both by worldhouse and more open-air methods, but it’s largely the kind of thing that much more energy-rich systems do as a vanity project. Kahira may someday see blue skies, but likely not for a thousand years at least. (edit, one year later: I actually changed up some of this while simulating this system for stability. I’ll be posting more about this soon.)

*** Mangala and Kahira, being tidally locked to each other such that they always show one another the same face as they orbit their common center of mass, both have days exactly as long as their orbital periods - 403 kiloseconds, or roughly 112 hours. This is for convenience divided into month-weeks comprising four “circadian days” of 100 kiloseconds (~26 hours), with the remaining three kiloseconds added on to the last day of a month-week to keep synchronization.

#cazart #tomorrow's country

[rokkenjimaisland]

Ren's "similar to Umineko" list! (now overhauled)(You're welcome)

Stuff on here reminds me of Umineko for a variety of reasons. If I add to it, I'll just edit this post and add the date I added it to this list. Separated by genre this time.

Under the read-more, with the "why it reminds me of Umineko" blurb after the title rather than a whole plot synopsis like I had done in the previous list

Feel free to rec stuff in tags or in comments etc. if I haven't read/played/watched it it might be hard for me to add it but I'll definitely add it to my own list of things to check out!

VIDEO GAMES The House In Fata Morgana - Visual novel, Unreliable narration, witch haunting an illusory mansion for thousands of years, cycles of abuse and trauma, Gothic setting, romance 9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors - Visual novel, "The killer is among us" (lol), murder mystery scoping out paranormal/metaphysical elements and twisting them into its own crazy logic, romance NieR Replicant - It's up to you to find your own happiness whatever that means to you despite the circumstances of the world you're living in or your own birth Alan Wake - Author creates and infers reality around him, horror setting, unreliable narration, creations rallying against their creator Alan Wake 2 - see the above, it's the sequel, except Alan Wake 2 is an actual survival horror. I didn't like Alan Wake 1 much but I'm LOVING 2 so far. The Forgotten City - I haven't played this just saw someone on Twitter say to play it if you like Umineko so I'm trusting their recommendation Pathologic Classic HD - Questions of morality, wishy-washiness on the reality of the fantastical elements of the town's culture, meta universe shenanigans forcing you to contend with "none of this matters, so why do/should I care?" Patho 2 can probably go here too but I am playing that at the moment.

ANIMANGA Naoki Urasawa's Monster - "Why did the culprit do this?" over "Who is the culprit?", murder mystery, cycles of abuse, questions of character identity, the ultimate "victim of circumstances has created the monster" situation Shiki - Sleepy town being annihilated by an unknown threat, humans doing unspeakable things in the name of justice, the question of the antagonist's morality/justice is brought to the forefront and maybe they were right all along...? Princess Tutu - Characters who have been created for a story and are living out a narrative sort of against their will, the narrative as a framing device and also a prison, love love love lots of love, the death of the author and what this means for a tale and the characters within it too--if you can only call them characters I Want To Hold Aono-kun so Badly I Could Die - romantic relationships as a way to combat your personal loneliness, horror and romance and how they intersect...kind of hard to explain this one unless you've finished Umineko but this manga really reads like AU Bato[redacted] to me so far, lots of supernatural elements, learning how to find happiness

TV Succession - Rich people dealing with their abusive and unpredictable father deciding who will be the successor for the family business and dragging everyone else into it, cycles of literally every sort

MOVIES Knives Out (2019) - Rich family called to a house to discuss the ailing patriarch's will only for him to be murdered, murder mystery Haven't seen Glass Onion yet but that too. Decision To Leave (2022) - Confessions of the unspeakable as acts of love, Another time another place maybe it could have worked, I created myself to love you, tragic romance, the sea as a motif representing character worlds Memento (2000) - it's up to the watcher to interpret events as they happen and piece them together, the most unreliable narrator of narrators, just go in blind The Prestige (2006) - Magicians get into a big dick competition and destroy their relationships for the sake of greatness, branches into metaphysical territory for the sake of pursuing magic House (1977) - Group of girls visit an ancient family home, horror setting, love is always enduring for better or for worse, witches, using other bodies to fulfill your own wish

BOOKS The Locked Tomb Quartet - Cites Umineko (and 999!) as an inspiration and Muir is a very very referential reader so it's kind of hard to say stuff without spoiling TLT also so honestly just go read it. Magpie Murders - Murder within a murder And Then There Were None (duh) - Directly inspired Umineko and the murders within Umineko The Last Unicorn - Characters acknowledge they are living in a fairy tale, the unicorn is often called the only 'real' one in the group due to her immortality, dream-like narration and fantastical whimsy, ocean representing character strife House Of Leaves - The metaphysical book of metaphysical books with stories within stories within stories and extremely unconventional formatting, house as a vehicle to tell a horror story IT - Two stories in different times existing side by side to inform the reader how to read it. I never finished reading this either though sorry </3 Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - metafiction play about characters and the absurdity of their existence, repeating stories, tragedy is only a story and the characters within only exist to tell that story regardless of their own individuality Wuthering Heights - toxic romance the novel, idk why I didn't have this here yet. Honestly I'm not super big on this book but it's a classic for a reason. Dread, isolated spaces, fucked up romance, ghosts, etc.

#similar to umineko list #red truth

[bylightofdawn]

Seeds for the Future snippet

I have been productive tonight, I restructured all the chapters for Seeds of the Future and put them all in their own separate gdocs. I need to start editing those but...ugh. Editing. Who LIKES editing? I was a printer for over a decade and lemme tell you, proofreading is the actual worst. I hated doing it for my job and I sure as fuck hate doing it for my hobby. Pffft.

I also wrote a short conflict-riddled scene with Jaster confronting Montross which is too short to be its own chapter realistically. I might try to connect it and the next scene I write into its own chapter assuming word count cooperates with me.

For now, I'm going to post it as a snippet. I'm mentally calling this one "Jaster goes on his despot arc" 🤣

By the time Jaster made it back to the high-rise which was housing the Mandalorian delegation, the sun had risen far enough in the sky that it was fitfully peeking through the soaring buildings that made up the surface of Coruscant. 

Because there was so much pollution in the air it actually obscured the sun so much that he could only make out the vague shape of it through the smog.

He wasn’t an overly large fan of the Mandalorian homeworld, which was a harsh and unforgiving place but it was nothing compared to his dislike of Coruscant. 

Jaster doubted anyone had actually set foot on the planet’s actual soil in thousands of years because they had built a city on top of another city ad nauseam. They’d kept building on top of existing infrastructure in such a slip-shod manner until the entire planet had been turned into one huge, polluted metropolis riddled with gaping chasms and endless tunnels. 

The idea someone could live their whole life and never see the sky much less the sun was horrifying to him. He’d grown up working the tough and temperamental land of Concord Dawn and couldn’t imagine having never seen his own native sun. But how many millions of people living on this rotted through trash-heap of a planet lived that reality? It was enough to make his skin crawl.

Those grim and unhappy thoughts kept him occupied as the air taxi he had hailed dropped him off on the hoverpad built into the back of the diplomatic quarters the Senate had set them up in during their stay on Coruscant. 

When he entered the suite where he and his men had been assigned to his surprise he spotted a miserable-looking Montross sitting at the table cradling his head as he hung it over a steaming cup of caf. 

Now, Jaster didn’t consider himself to be the type of man quick to anger or violence but the sight of Montross sitting there after having pulled his disappearing act which ‌had led to Jango being stabbed had all of his higher brain functions shut off in a haze of red hot rage. 

He’d crossed the distance, hauled Montross to his feet and bodily slammed him into the wall before he’d even recognize the impulse that had his body moving of its own accord. 

This close, he could smell the stench of alcohol on the other man that seemed to radiate from his very pores and it was repugnant.

“Jaster?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Montross yelped as he tried to shove him away but his reflexes were sluggish thanks to the hangover. Jaster’s fingers were as unmovable as beskar steel as he pinned him to the wall. 

Whatever he saw in Jaster’s face was so terrible that Montross’s eyes immediately flinched away. 

“Where the kriff were you last night, Montross?” 

“What? We fought, and I got pissed off, so I went out drinking until I didn’t feel like punching you in the shabla face anymore.” Montross snapped at him defensively. “Who pissed in your karking caf this morning?”

“Jango got stabbed trying to find your stupid ass last night, so I’d suggest you stop running your mouth because I have zero karking patience for it right now. Do I make myself clear?” He clawed back a few shreds of his self-control and didn’t bash Montross’s skull into the wall like he desperately wanted to.

“What? I didn’t have anything to do with that! I didn’t see the brat all night long.” 

“No, Death Watch stabbed him which makes your little disappearing act to go have your own private drunken pity party ten times worse!”

Montross went pale under his ruddy tan. “I had nothing to do with that, Jaster. I can’t stand the brat but I would never harm him.” 

“That’s the only reason I haven’t gutted you where you stand.” Jaster snarled at him with bared teeth. He willed himself to let Montross go and stepped back with one much-needed step. The stench of alcohol made his stomach curdle and he couldn’t bear to be in the man’s personal space any longer. 

“You’re staying here, do you understand me? Nobody goes out alone. Not with Death Watch in the mix. I’m going to go warn Kryze and the others.” 

He raked a disapproving look over the other Mandalorian. The disgust in Jaster’s voice was unmistakable when he spoke next, and it had Montross briefly bristling.  “Go clean yourself up. You smell like a strill's backside.” 

“I was already planning on doing that buir.” He couldn’t quite keep from sarcastically quipping back at Jaster and he got another death glare for his trouble. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but seeing Jaster like this was scary, and he didn’t enjoy seeing this ugly side of his leader. 

Unfortunately, Jaster’s behavior only worsened the bitterness and resentment which had been seething inside of him for months like a poison that had eaten him from the inside out.  

He didn’t know it now, but at that moment he’d lost Montross’s loyalty for good and it would come back to bite him in the ass soon enough.

“If you don’t want to be treated like a child, then stop acting like one.” With those final harsh words, Jaster turned away from him and stalked towards the private elevator which lead down two levels to where Kryze and his faction were stationed. He could only pray things went a little better with them.

#fanfic snippets #between the stars verse #jaster mereel #montross #star wars fanfiction #seeds for the future fic

[lascltheperfect]

Facebook video player for mac

#Facebook video player for mac how to#

#Facebook video player for mac mac os x#

#Facebook video player for mac movie#

#Facebook video player for mac update#

#Facebook video player for mac android#

#Facebook video player for mac mac os x#

It may surprise you with its capabilities, no matter you want to create a professional-looking video or just rotate Facebook videos (we have talked about the process in Part 1, It's definitely an effortless solution, right?).Platform: Mac OS X (macOS Big Sur), Windows (Windows 10)įeatures: Play HD/UHD videos, DVDs, music Stream audio video download online videos ( 1000+ sites)ĥKPlayer may be new to many users, but it still gets the gold medal for video playback on Mac (or Windows). Among all of the Facebook video rotate software, Filmora Video Editor stands out of them. There are a great number of video rotate tools on the market.

#Facebook video player for mac android#

If Facebook really intends to abandon this feature, the only workaround solution is to rotate the video on your devices (Windows, Mac, iPhone, Android phone or others) before you upload it to Facebook. If Facebook has added the video rotating feature, you can follow the steps in Part 2 to easily rotate video on Facebook. Maybe you can't find the rotating video option on Facebook it is because Facebook has changed its functions again. Privacy: In the Friends section, you are allowed to select who you want to share the video with. Location: This section enables us to enter the location where the video was taken.ĭate: This section allows you to add the exact date when the video was taken. Tags: You are able to the people appeared in the video int his section. The description of video might be optional because this part mostly introduces the things related with the posters, not the videos. It is better to select a name that can attract people's attention.ĭescription: This is a description of what is happened in your uploaded video. If you don't write a title for the video, the video will be automatically titled with the timestamp of when you recorded and uploaded it. Title: Generally speaking, you'll want to enter the name of the video you upload. When you edit Facebook video, you can take the following aspects into consideration so that you won't miss the information you want to edit. Wait for a few seconds, and the Facebook platform will adjust your video direction directly. Click on it and select "Rotate Left" or "Rotate Right" as your requirement. Then, move your mouse on the video, find the "Option" button on the button right side of your video tool panel. To rotate a video uploaded to Facebook, you need to play your video firstly, check the orientation, and determine whether you should rotate it left or right. Follow these easy steps to rotate a video on Facebook After all, you may find the "Options" menu back someday. Thus, Facebook may bring back the video rotation feature to correct orientation in this year or someday in the future.Ĭonsidering this fact, I want to also show you the steps to rotate a video on Facebook after posting, which is before Facebook removed the rotate video button.

#Facebook video player for mac update#

This update annoyed thousands of its users. But you already have some comments and likes, don't want to adjust it and upload it again (which will lead to the loss of the comments and likes)?Īs we know, Facebook always updates its features on the platform it has removed the "Options" menu since 2018. When you upload your video to Facebook, find it's in the incorrect orientation. How to Rotate a Video Uploaded on Facebook : If you encounter the same orientation issue in creating Facebook live video, please remember to Turn Off Portrait Mode of your smartphone screen before you start your broadcast. These features are essential for achieving a high-quality video in a very short time. It manages to gather a wide variety of useful features. Rotate Facebook Video with Filmora Video Editorįilmora Video Editor for Windows ( Filmora Video Editor for Mac) is quite a cheap video editing software, which is also the best video rotator for users to rotate all kinds of videos, including Facebook video. Rotate Facebook Video with Filmora Video Editor While there are many ways for rotating videos before uploading to Facebook, these are what you need. Now, we know it is impossible to flip a video on Facebook for the present.

#Facebook video player for mac how to#

So, how to solve this Facebook video angle issue? Also, it is inconvenient to watch vertical videos on their laptops. Since Facebook removed the Video Rotation Option, Facebook users are annoyed that they should check twice to rotate videos to the proper orientation before upload videos to Facebook. 'Please put the rotate button back, Facebook' 'Hi Facebook team: you're losing live video customers when people have to watch vertical videos on their laptops.' This menu is no longer available how can I rotate a video on Facebook?' 'There used to be an "Options" menu on the video settings that would allow you to rotate the video.

5.2 Rotate Video in Windows Media Player.

#Facebook video player for mac movie#

5.1 Rotate Video in Windows Movie Maker.

#Facebook video player for mac

[spilledkauffie]

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably. 

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming. 

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.” 

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again. 

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,”  bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you. 

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”  

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. 

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.” 

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.” 

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive. 

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.” 

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest. 

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it. 

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.” 

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.” 

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear. 

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently. 

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you. 

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled. 

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell. 

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer. 

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back. 

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile. 

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss. 

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head. 

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.” 

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

#spilledkauffie #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucy imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #winter solider x you #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier fluff #james bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan

[lokiondisneyplus]

Yes, Loki series director Kate Herron knows about your fan theory about the show, the analysis you posted to social media. No, she won’t tell you what she thinks about it, or whether you were right.

“I follow all the conversations on Twitter,” Herron told Polygon in an interview shortly after Loki’s season 1 finale. “I don’t always weigh in on them, because I made the show, so they don’t want me weighing in like, ‘Actually, guys…’ I think that’s the whole point of art — it should be up for debate and discussion.”

[Ed. note: Spoilers ahead for season 1 of Loki.]

Loki has been a hit for streaming service Disney Plus — episode 6 of the show, the final installment for this season, was reportedly watched by more households than any of the platform’s MCU finales to date. The series has been a popular source of fan conjecture and argument, with one particularly big rolling conversation focusing on whether the budding romantic relationship between trickster Asgardian Loki (Tom Hiddleston) and his alternate-universe counterpart Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino) is a form of incest.

Herron is willing to speak up about that one. “My interpretation of it is that they’re both Lokis, but they aren’t the same person,” she says. “I don’t see them as being like brother and sister. They have completely different backgrounds […] and I think that’s really important to her character. They sort of have the same role in terms of the universe and destiny, but they won’t make the same decisions.”

Herron says thematically, Loki falling for Sylvie is an exploration of “self-love,” but only in the sense that it’s Loki learning to understand his own motives and integrity. “[The show is] looking at the self and asking ‘What makes us us?’” Herron says. “I mean, look at all the Lokis across the show, they’re all completely different. I think there’s something beautiful about his romantic relationship with Sylvie, but they’re not interchangeable.”

Directing the final kiss between the two characters was a complicated process because it had to communicate something about each of them over the course of just a few seconds. Herron says the primary goal was creating a safe, comfortable environment for Hiddleston and Di Martino, and after that, she had to think about how to bring across Loki and Sylvie’s conflicting goals in that moment.

“It’s an interesting one, right?” she says. “Emotionally, from Sylvie’s perspective, I think it’s a goodbye. But it’s still a buildup of all these feelings. They’ve both grown through each other over the last few episodes. It was important to me that it didn’t feel like a trick, like she was deceiving him. She is obviously doing that, on one hand, but I don’t feel the kiss is any less genuine. I think she’s in a bad place, but her feelings are true.”

Herron says directing Hiddleston in the scene mostly came down to discussing the speech Loki gives Sylvie before the kiss. “That was really important, showing this new place for Loki,” Herron says. “In the first episode, he’s like, ‘I want the throne, I want to rule,’ and by episode 6, he isn’t focused on that selfish want. He just wants her to be okay.”

Loki writer and producer Eric Martin recently tweeted that he wished the show had been able to focus more time on two of its secondary characters, Owen Wilson’s Time Variance Authority agent Mobius M. Mobius, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s Ravonna Renslayer. “I wanted to explore her more deeply and really see their relationship,” he says, “But covid got in the way and we just didn’t have time.”

Asked if Loki and Sylvie’s relationship suffered from similar necessary edits, Herron says it’s true that the show’s creators and audience still don’t know everything Sylvie went through to make her so different from the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s original version of Loki. “We’ve seen her as a child, but she’s lived for thousands and thousands of years, in apocalypses on the run,” she says. “I think there’s so much more to delve into with Sylvie […] You’re filling in the blanks. You see [her on the planet] Lamentis, and it’s horrific. And you’re like, “Well, what kind of person would she be, growing up in apocalypses? What kind of personality would that give her?”

Herron says Sylvie’s backstory actually reminds her of the 1995 movie Jumanji, where a young boy is sucked into a magical board game in 1969, and emerges 26 years later as a full-grown man, played by with typical manic energy by Robin Williams. “It’s such a weird reference, but…” she says. “He’s a little boy when he ends up captive in that game, and when he comes out, it’s obviously been a life experience. With Sylvie, it’s similar. She was a child when she had to go on the run, so she’s had a very difficult life. I would love to see more of it. As Eric said, she’s a rich character, there’s so much to be explored.”

Herron says, though, that during her time on the show, material about Sylvie was added rather than cut — specifically, those scenes of her as a child, being kidnapped by the TVA. “This was before my time, but I know in the writers’ room, there were lots of avenues exploring Sylvie on the run and what her life was like,” Herron says. “I wouldn’t want to speak more to those, because I wasn’t there when they were being discussed. But something wasn’t in there that was important to me — I felt we should see her [history] in the TVA. Me and the team were talking about how it made complete sense, because episode 4 is all about twisting the idea that the TVA might be good on its head. And so that’s something that came in later, once I joined, was seeing her as a child. I think we needed to see that, not to understand her completely, but to get an idea of her motivations, why she’s so angry at this place.”

Talking more broadly about the series finale, Herron says the last few episodes weren’t as heavily referential as the first episodes, which she intended as “a love letter to sci-fi.” While early images like the TVA’s interrogation rooms had specific visual references from past science fiction, episode 6’s locations were drawn more from collaborations with the crew.

“The idea of the physical timeline being circular, our storyboard artists came up with that,” Herron says. “I had in the scripts, ‘We move through space to the end of time,” and then me and [storyboard artist Darrin Denlinger] discussed how we could play with the idea of time, while also adding MCU nods. He was like, ‘What if the timeline is circular?’ I think that’s such a striking image, like the Citadel at the End of Time is the needle on a record player. I just thought that was such a cool image, but it wasn’t necessarily taken from anything.”

Episode 6 focuses heavily on the mysterious figure He Who Remains and his citadel, a space she says was largely conceived by production designer Kasra Farahani. “I remember he brought in the art of the Citadel, and I thought it was beautiful,” Herron says. “He said, ‘The Citadel has been carved from an actual meteorite,’ which I thought was such an inspired idea. And He Who Remains’ office is the only finished portion of it.”

She says there are only a few direct homages in episode 6, including the zoom shot through space, which directly referenced a similar sequence in Robert Zemeckis’ 1997 film Contact.

“And then I have my Teletubbies reference for episode 5,” Herron says. “I wanted the Void to feel like an overgrown garden, like a kind of forgotten place. And I realized I’d pitched it as the British countryside. I remember trying to explain it to ILM, who did the visual effects, and saying, ‘Oh, you know, it’s like the Teletubbies. It’s just rolling hills, but they go on forever.’ That actually was quite a helpful reference in the end, which is funny.”

Asked for her favorite set memory from shooting the season, Herron says it comes down to Tom Hiddleston starting a mania for physical exertion before takes. “Sometimes he runs around set to get himself in the right mindset before he performs,” she says. “He does pushups. You know, you’re going into an action scene, you want to look like you’ve just been running. And it became infectious across all the cast. We’ve got so much footage of — I think Jack [Veal] ended up doing it, who plays Kid Loki. I’ve got [shots of] him and Sophia doing pushups and squats, just to get ready. It was so funny watching that echo across all the cast. I think all of them ended up doing those exercises with him at some point. It was so funny.”

“That might be my favorite set story, but it’s honestly, not a sweet one,” she adds. “I would say my favorite thing is his enthusiasm. He’s a very kind empathetic person. We were filming this in quite tough circumstances, a lot of people were far from home and isolating, and he brought this warmth and energy and joy to the set every day. And I think that made everyone feel very safe and very bonded. I’m forever grateful to him for doing that.”

#Kate Herron #Loki #Sylvie #Tom Hiddleston #owen wilson

[maemi324]

Mafia

Hey there friends! It���s been a hot minute since I’ve actually posted something. 

Let me just say, Happy Holidays! I hope you are having a wonderful and safe holiday. 

This fic was inspired and written for @butterscotchbaku​ and @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku​ based on some requests I had written in, as well as just ideas passed back and forth. 

I hope you two are having a wonderful day and may that continue into the new year! Thank you for all you’ve written and done!

Pairing: Izuku/Fem.Reader

Warnings: mentioned beatings, mentioned assault but nothing described in detail. all very vague. uhh violence, or hinted at violence. Edited only by me, so i may have missed something.

 I think that’s it. 

I hope you two enjoy this! 

Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the room, walls filled with generic knickknacks and warm colored walls gave the meeting a false sense of pleasantness. To any unsuspecting person, this was any other meeting room, one long table with rounded edges and somewhat padded chairs, the head of the table having the one most plush. 

Hell, even the people occupying them would have anyone turning up their nose in disinterest. Nothing but business men and women in dark, smart looking suits.

But you knew better. Sitting at the head was the infamous Izuku Midoriya, known under the name of Deku, direct descendent of the greatest Mafia leader Japan had ever seen; All Might. 

And here you sat, comfortably in Izuku’s lap, your temple pressed against his neck as you listened to his voice rumble on towards the other members. You were hardly paying attention to what was being said as you glanced around the room to the others.

Katsuki Bakugou- Dynamite, or TNT if you were feeling particularly cheeky. He was head of interrogation, finding out who knew what and definitely had too many ways of making people talk, and only one sure fire way of keeping them quiet. 

Todoroki Shouto- Bakugou’s counter in interrogation. He was mainly there to keep Bakugou from killing every target. He could control his temper, sure, but Todoroki added a sense of cold unease to their targets. He was effective against the folks who didn’t rise to Bakugou’s jabs and threats. He tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the small dish provided.

Kirishima Eijirou- Red Riot-another strong man and a third in the interrogation squad. He kept Bakugou from grousing the entire time, as well as leveling the two tempers in the group. Though he was a strong man, he was also incredibly sweet. You recalled that, while dealing with some unsavory characters that had children- typically rescuing the children at the other parents pleading- Red Riot was a favorite with them, his bright smile and charm keeping them distracted as Bakugou and Todoroki dealt with the problem.

Iida- Ingenium-was the getaway driver, best out of the best. He somehow always managed to get them out as quickly as possible while still following the law. It made losing the police all the easier. Ochaco Uraraka, or Uravity, was the treasurer, in charge of keeping account of all of the mafia’s funds, who owed them money and why. For more problematic clients, she was a stickler down to the very last penny. 

There were others, but those were just the ones in the room at the moment. You sighed softly, adjusting in Izuku’s lap. Someone at the end of the table was pleading for something. You could tell by the unimpressed glare on Izuku’s face that it was going south for whoever this was- a blond man with an inferiority complex for certain.

You glanced down at your left hand, engagement ring shimmering brightly despite the warm fluorescent lights. It wasn’t very large, an emerald surrounded by diamonds. He’d only given it to you a few days ago. On a rare day, you were able to go out with him in public-the benefit of a mask and some contacts while on the job- you had decided to flit about a few museums. The ring caught your eye immediately, the prized possession of some rich so and so, dating back who knows how long in their family.

Maybe it was because of how brightly it matched your lovers eyes, but the ring called to you. You didn’t mention a peep to your lover however. You knew he would have taken it right then and there. You rather liked coming to this museum, with added security after a robbery, you would have to frequent it less.

Your lovestruck fool of a man decided to do it anyway. He’d said that the plan went off without a hitch, though the smudges of dirt and a bit of blood- not his own- said otherwise. At the time, you had to question why, sure he’d robbed plenty of other places, gifts for trips that took longer than expected, but a place that you favored going?

“I’m just crazy about you doll, You deserve the best of the best. The way you eyed that ring, I knew there’d be nothing else that would be more perfect for you. But, it’s not just because you fancied it that I got it for you. We’re together, we always will be...but I want to make it more official. I wanna be yours forever, and I want you to be mine. What do you say doll? Marry me?”

You couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A gentle nudge to your shoulder brought you out of your daze. You looked up to the love of your life.

“What do you think dollface? What should we do with Monama?” 

You sat up in his lap, watching as the blond shivered in his spot, a smirk on your fiance’s face hidden by his fist as he leaned against it.

“Monama, what is it he did again?”

“Well Doll, he owes us money. He swears he’s good for it, but this is the third time he hasn’t been good for it.What should we do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Monama...ah yes now you remembered him! A little wanna be Mafia leader who went under when he ran out of money. He placed bets with other rival gangs against Deku, proclaiming that not only could he and his group get it done, but get it done better. 

There were times when they had, though just barely. It was hardly enough to keep a betting pool aimed against Deku however. Everyone but him seemed to know it. The overconfidence in his group and underestimating Deku lead to his downfall when Deku pulled off an impossible mission without even having to undo his tie.

When these gangs came to collect, he begged Deku to allow him and his group safety, help paying off the debt. Deku agreed, but in return, he had a year to earn the money back, only adding interest when the blond began getting too cocky. 

“I just need a little more time! A day, give me a day!” he pleaded, voice shrill and desperate. 

You winced, brows scrunched in annoyance.

Honestly, you didn’t care for Monama, and weren’t all too excited for his continued presence in the gang. You looked down at your nails idly.

“Have Dynamite follow him for a day then. If whatever magic he seems to think he can pull off, doesn’t in fact pull off, then he can have fun beating the change out of him. Or, whoever he’s seeing to get the money can pay it” You figured, even though he’d be annoyed at the idea of tailing that worm, Bakugou would have a good time beating it out of him.

Izuku gave Bakugou a look, who only snarled in response. A tilt of his head and Bakugou got up from his chair, footsteps heavy as he grabbed Monama by the arm, “Let’s get this over with you pathetic extra,” rolling his eyes as Moana sagged in slight relief, gratitude spilling from his lips.

Izuku held up a hand, “Let Red Riot escort him out for now. We have some business that you’d like to be here for I’m sure”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a fraction, a grin making its way onto his face as he shoved Monama towards Kirishima.

As Bakugou took his seat and Kirishima exited with Monama in tow, another man entered the room, a small man with purple hair. You recognized him as Mineta’s father. His son’s invention, a sticky substance that rendered anything in its grip as good as stuck, was what kept him in the group. What had him on thin ice however, was his treatment of the women in the group, all things he learned from his father. Izuku left Iida to beat it out of him however he saw fit. All it would take is one more strike. 

His father, however, was all out of strikes. The way he leered at you and the other girls had you all walking on eggshells around him. You only came forward to Izuku about it after you and the others had confided in one another. He had groped at you after a party the gang had thrown. It was the first and last time he’d ever made a physical move towards you.

You could feel the man's lecherous eyes on you, making you lean into Izuku, his body blocking the man's gaze. 

While you told him your story, Izuku’s face had remained calm, though the cup he had been holding shattered into thousands of pieces. He knew there were rumors about the senior, but to have it be found out as fact, and not just rumors from other gangs... He was furious, you knew that, and you knew somehow, someway, that Minoru senior would pay.

“Doll, why don’t you go talk to YaoMomo about wedding dresses, hm?” You nodded your head, though hesitant to leave the safety and comfort of his lap. You knew you were safe with Izuku by your side, but that didn’t mean you were comfortable passing by this...Disgusting being. His gaze softened and he hooked his arm around yours, escorting you personally towards the door.

Izuku tilted your head into a sweet kiss, his thumb rubbing comforting circles onto your side.

Izuku opened the door for you, but before you left, he kissed you again, deeper, sweeping away the sickly feeling of being watched with his tongue as it danced with yours, one hand cupping your jaw to pull you close.

He pulled away all too soon for your tastes, hand leaving your jaw, “Actually, maybe talk with her about the cake too, this may take a bit...” he turned away from you, eyes turning cold and jaded as the door closed.

“It’s about to get ugly in here”

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #uraraka ochaco #bnha iida #todoroki shouto #bnha kirishima #katsuki bakugou #bnha #bnha all might #monoma neito #mha minoru #momo yaoyorozu #Mafia au #bnha mafia au #villain deku #maemiwritesbnha

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Lesbian!Batsis (HC)

Requested by @iiiiisworld​: Hello first of All i love your writing so much♡♡♡♡♡♡Second of All, i saw that is said that the request are open so i wanted to ask you if you could do a one-shot of batsis getting outed as a lesbian and how the batboys and bruce would react.(if you dont want to write it its okay ♡)(Sorry if their are any spelling Mistakes , english isnt my first language)

And an Anon (I think you accidentaly sent in two, but who knows): Hey i saw that your requests are open so i wanted to ask if you could to a oneshot were batsis got outed as a lesbian by another person and like it is all on like the internet. And the reaction of the batfam Sorry if my english isnt good but it isnt my first language And if you dont like the request just ignor it Btw i looooovvvveee your wrintig sooooo much ♡

A/N: Awww thank you so much!!!! I know you asked for a Oneshot, but this concept that build itself in my mind kinda aquired its own life and fits Headcanons more, I made them more ‘story-like’ though so I hope that’s cool. Also I know you probably wanted some Angst, but I was just in the mindset of FLUFFFFFFF. (also, your english is fine ♡)

Also, I love y’all lesbians very much, you’re all amazing, breathtaking, loving and great, as a bi-sister I stand by you!!!

The only thing illuminating your bedroom was the dimly lit screen of your phone hovering only inches over your face, dangerously loose in your tired grip

What was depicted in front of you was stopping your heart in all the wrong places

The pictures and comments were all over instagram, twitter, tumblr and even facebook

Even on YouTube were first reaction videos about it, even though it had only been an hour at most since the first picture was uploaded 

There were only two original pictures if you substracted all the edits that had been uploaded and you recognized these shots immediatly

You had been out on a date with you girlfriend and the two of you had been in a small coffee shop enjoying some lunch

Because you hated all the attention that came from the media with being a Wayne you had explained early on in your relationship that you’d rather keep it in private 

So when you went out you were just ‘friends’

You made up for it in private tho 

But on that day things changed becaue your girlfriend had been really stressed with her exams lately and just needed some consolation

That was how the first picture came: The two of you sitting opposite of each other on a small table with you holding her hand ontop of it, rubbing small circles into her skin

That alone was no big thing, pictures like that were published a lot and just ended up in the big void that was the internet, but the noisy paparazzi who had followed the two of you ever since they had caught sight of you a few streets back wasn’t satisfied yet

So they followed you further when you left the shop about twenty minutes later

You had been so sure that there was no one around in the secluded area of the park you had been walking through and your girlfriend had that sad smile on her lips that she always had when things were on her mind and she couldn’t complete concentrate on her time with you

So you decided you’d distract her for a few seconds

And the second picture was born

The two of you kissing, luckily (just like in the first pic) her back was turned to the camera and her identity wasn’t traceable, one of your hands on her waist, the other on her cheeck

If it had just been that picture then sure, rumours would have started, people would’ve started asking, but you could’ve said it wasn’t you, your face wasn’t visible enough for them to claim otherwise, but with the other picture taken only minutes earlier in the same clothes with the same partner?

Now it was out in the world

But....

It didn’t really feel that bad

Of course, like always, there were hateful people who commented nasty stuff and a few even dm-ed you about what a disgrace to gotham you supposidly were, but they were nothing compared to the crowd of hundres if not thousands who commented and dm-ed and uploaded how happy and excited they were for you

Edits of pics of you with the lesbian flags were quickly making their way through the web

And it felt good

Of course you knew that wouldn’t be all of it, part of being a “celebrity” was to adress things like that and even if you realitivly kept out of the public eye you surely wouldn’t get around at least one interview of a talk-show-visit

But you’d manage, you’d managed quote-on-quote “scandals” before

Like that one time you posted that you thought Batman was a giant whimp and should finally confirm he was a giant furry - of course that happened a few minutes after you and your dad had a small falling out

You had to go on four different Gotham-based Interviews that month and constantly meet up with the PR-manager

It was...interesting... to say the least

And this now was no real difference

And, as an added Bonus, you could finally take your girlfriend to Galas and kiss her in public (if she was okay with the attention obviously, you wouldn’t drag her into that without her permission)

But I digress

That night you fell asleep calm and happy

The next day on the other hand...

I don’t think the Wayne family is the kind of family that you’d feel like you have to keep things like that from (obviously everyone is different and has different limits, but I’ll have to somewhat assume that)

So I’ll just say that you already told them

Still, they’re incredibly worried with how you’ll react to being outed against your will

So let’s just say you spend most of the day telling your (very, very, very extended) family about how you feel and that it’s okay

Jason still might or might not had trashed that paparazzis apartement and camera as a small lession about privacy, but you won’t find out about that until much later

Straight-up, Kate will take you out and spoil you just a little bit alongside with Cass who joins the two of you (My fav gay squad - or at least bi, since I headcanon that Cass could totally be bi) 

They all obviously want to show you and (mainly) the public how much they support you

So guess who sponsors the next Gotham pride? Correctly guessed, it’s Wayne enterprise Inc.

Most of your siblings (at least the ones that the public has their eyes on - see: Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass - the other ones will do it privatly) will do the typical publicity thing of posting about their support and about how much they love you and about how amazing your girlfriend is

All that

Somehow, this reveal that was planned to be a big Drama-scandal that would bring fame and fourtune to the photographer turned into something entirely else

While Kate is the Momma-lesbian in the family she keeps a somewhat low profile concerning the media (she’s still a big figure obviously, but she’s not as out there as Bruce is for example), you somehow turn into a gay-represantaion-princess for Gotham

Kinda like Hayley Kiyoko is lesbian Jesus

A lot of people dm you in the following years and tell you that you (more or less voluntary) coming out and being such a strong figure in Gotham gave them the courage to come out to their family and friends too and it will never fail to warm your heart

#Batsis #Batsis!reader #BAtfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batsis xbatfam #batfam x basis!reader #sister!reader #dc x reader #Lesbian!reader #LGBTQ+ #jason todd #damian wayne #kate kane #cassandra cain #cass cain #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #red robin #nightwing #red hood #batman #orphan #batwoman #black bat

[monstersandmaw]

Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!! 

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.  

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

__

| Masterlist | Patreon | Ko-fi | Writing Commissions |

#lich #exophilia #lich x reader #non binary monster #gender neutral reader #reader x monster #monster x reader

[evansyhelp]

✧  TEXTURES  –  A TUTORIAL BY EVANSYHELP. 

In this (long and image-heavy) tutorial, I’ll be showing you how I make textures, as requested by a very kind anon. I use Photoshop CC 2019 but you should be able to replicate my methods on most editing software. Please like or reblog this post if you find this helpful!

Index.

Ethically Sourcing Your Images.

Finding The Right Image.

Making Your Texture.

Other Tricks I Use.

Quick Recap.

Making Textures Without Images: Speedrun.

Outro.

Ethically Sourcing Your Images. 

I will be explaining a couple quick ways to make textures without any images at the end of the tutorial, but since my personal favourite way involves images and that’s specifically what the anon requested, that’s what the majority of the tutorial will be focused on.

The first step, naturally, is finding an image to use. My personal favourite site is Unsplash, but there are plenty of options out there. 

What you need to keep in mind is what kind of license the images have. Unsplash is free for personal and commercial use with no attribution required, which makes it perfect for things like this. There are more sites like this in my free for commercial use masterlist (linked at the end of the post), but unless you’re using them in products you’re selling (like graphic commissions), the commercial aspect isn’t something you need to worry about. Just check the site/photographer’s rules to make sure you’re allowed to edit the images for personal use, and whether attribution (credit) is required. 

Another important thing to keep in mind is that these sites typically never allow you to redistribute the images as they are. That means you can’t just go to Unsplash’s texture category, save the images without any changes, and reupload them in a texture pack on Tumblr. That’s stealing. We don’t do that.

Finding The Right Image.  

Knowing what kinds of images will make good textures is a learning curve. My first couple texture packs are rough compared to what I make now, because I basically taught myself with no guidance and learned through trial and error. But with practice, I learned what worked and what didn’t. 

You want your images to be HQ, either with no ‘subject’ (ie. a person) or with a large background. Higher contrast is better but not super necessary. You should hopefully be able to envision what kind of texture you want to make before you even touch the image.

Making Your Texture. 

For the majority of the tutorial, this is the image I’ll be working with. Credits can be found in the link at the end of the post. 

Open your canvas. You can make specialised textures, like 100px for icons or 540px for Tumblr graphics, but I personally prefer to make them large for versatility. I’m using 800px in this tutorial. Once you’ve chosen your size, upload your full-size image into the canvas. This is where the fun begins!

Drag the image around into a nice position. Or use Edit > Transform to rotate, flip, and warp the image in different ways. Or use Edit > Free Transform (Ctrl+T) to change the size or the angle more precisely. Or probably some combination of all three! With Free Transform, make sure this aspect ratio anchor is selected so you don’t butcher the quality of the image, unless you’re warping it intentionally:

This is all very individual to each image you use. You might want to flip one, shrink another, put another at a 30 degree angle. Just experiment until you end up with something you think would look awesome as a texture. For the sake of providing a good example, I flipped this image vertically, shrunk it to 80% its original size, and rotated it until it looked like the smoke/cloud was coming from the bottom right corner. This is what we have:

Then we move onto enhancing. Textures work best when there’s a lot of contrast because it’s easier to manipulate the blending modes. So if your image isn’t already high contrast, these adjustment layers (Brightness/Contrast, Levels, and Selective Colour) are your new best friends:

If you don’t see this on your Photoshop, go to Window > Adjustments and it should pop up. Again, just experiment, because different images will require different things. Essentially, you want to make the darks darker and the lights lighter. Something I like to do is add a Selective Colour layer and use the Black slider. Pick out the primary colour of the image, and then Whites, in the drop-down menu, and move the bottom slider (left to lighten, right to darken) until you’re satisfied. Like so:

So with those Selective Colour settings and the following Levels settings, here’s the before and after of my image.

Much better contrast! If you want to end here, you can, but I personally prefer grayscale textures a lot of the time because it makes it more versatile. Instead of being forced to make a blue graphic because this image is blue, I can make any colour graphic I want with one simple black and white Gradient layer. Photoshop does have a default Black & White adjustment feature, but I prefer using Gradients.

Pro tip: if your image doesn’t have a pure black, you can keep the darkest parts of your image dark by using the left slider, shown below. 

A lot of the time, I’ll also decrease the opacity of that Gradient layer, to somewhere between 80% and 95%, so just a hint of the original colour comes through. This gives it more dimension in my opinion, while still keeping it mostly neutral. Here’s 100% vs. 85%:

You may find that you want to add a little more contrast after. With this texture, I decided to grab another Selective Colour layer, pick ‘Black’ in the drop-down menu, and pull the Black slider up to +40. I also settled on 95% opacity for the Gradient. And here’s the final product!

Other Tricks I Use. 

That covers how I make a lot of my easier textures, but here’s a quick run-through of other, slightly more complex tricks. I’ll be working with this image (again, credit at the end of the post):

This, of course, is not as obviously texture-worthy as the previous example, but I love textures with strong lines, so here’s how the magic happens! I wanted to get rid of the detail on the bottom half, so I used the Polygonal Lasso tool to select it:

Then I used the eyedropper tool (the 4th symbol under the polygonal lasso in the image above) to select the blue of the sky and, on a new layer, painted that selection completely blue. I decreased the opacity to 90% just so it wasn’t a total block colour, but not enough that you can really see the lines. I repeated this process for the sky, so it looked more consistent with the bottom half.

Then, using the eyedropper tool again and making a new layer for every colour, I went in with a small soft paintbrush and painted out the harsh vertical lines on each segment of the stripes. I didn’t want to make them totally perfect, but I painted over the bulkiest interruptions. 

I added a black and white Gradient layer, using the slider tool I showed you before to darken the darks and lighten the lights, and decreased it to 50% so that it wasn’t totally black and white but still more neutral than the original. Here’s the result:

Another fun way to shake things up, which unfortunately will require Photoshop (CS6 should be fine, not sure about earlier versions), is the Filter Gallery. Go to Filter > Filter Gallery, and you’ll find a TON of effects that change your image drastically. Most of the default settings are nightmarish, but you can play around with the settings panel on the right.

Here’s just a few results that are possible with the Filter Gallery, labelled for convenience. You can view the HQ versions in the link at the end of the post.

Quick Recap. 

So you don’t have to reread this obnoxiously large tutorial every time you want to reference it in the future:

Choose a HQ image.

Resize, rotate, flip, and/or warp.

Enhance the contrast.

Black and white!

Paint over problem areas!

Filter > Filter Gallery.

Making Textures Without Images: Speedrun.

We’re almost done! There are some tools built directly into Photoshop that can allow you to make textures completely from scratch, and I’ll briefly cover my favourites here. 

The first is pattern fill layers. I spent too many years not appreciating the patterns feature in Photoshop, but they’re great. Go to Layer > New Fill Layer > Pattern, click ‘OK’ on the box that pops up, and another box will pop up to let you choose your pattern. 

By themselves, they are UGLY. It can take a while to figure out how to use them. But if you change the scale, change the blending mode, and change the opacity, you have thousands of textures at your fingertips. And if you add two or three together? Billions of possibilities. I can do a more in-depth tutorial on patterns if y’all are interested, but here’s two examples I just whipped up in a matter of minutes, using two patterns on each:

The next feature is gradient fill layers, and the gradient tool. Go to Layer > New Fill Layer > Gradient… to select a gradient (or make your own!) and an angle, OR use the gradient tool (featured below) to drag the gradient across your canvas manually. On its own, boom, that’s a gradient texture. Paired with a pattern or put through the Filter Gallery? Even better!

The last is brushes. Brushes can be great for textures because there are so many kinds. You want to make a paint splatter texture? Paint splatter brush sets are everywhere! You want to make a smoky texture? You can get brushes that look like smoke! Smudged? Scratchy? Grunge? Halftone? Light leaks? Torn paper? Brushes have your back. 

With all of these features (and things like actions, too!), your saving grace is going to be this little cog wheel shown below, and the list you’ll find under the Reset/Save/Load section. There are SO many more options built directly into Photoshop that you don’t even see right away, because you have to add them manually from this little cog wheel. 

And you can download countless more patterns, gradients, and brushes from sites like Brusheezy and DeviantART. A couple tutorials on downloading and installing them can be found in the link at the end of the post, but remember, download these things ethically. If you want to sell products that use a custom brush, it’s your responsibility to find brushes that are free for commercial use. If you don’t want to credit the creator, it’s your responsibility to find resources that don’t require attribution. 

Outro.

I think that’s everything, guys! If you found this tutorial helpful or otherwise enjoy my content, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi! I offer exclusive rewards, like custom graphics, to everyone who donates. 

Due to Tumblr’s latest rules about links, you can find the credits list, the promised bonus tutorials, other important links, and the full-size HQ versions of the textures made in this tutorial over here.

Thanks for reading!

#rph #allresources #completeresources #itsphotoshop #chaoticresources #photoshop tutorial #photoshop resources #photoshop help #ps resources #ps tutorial #eh #eh: tutorial #tutorial #ps help #texture #*100 #*250

[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

[lovee-infected]

I'm about to start my own (twst) writing blog and I'm going around writers that I follow for some advice q*q could you give me any wisdom on what I should do when starting a writing blog? thank you!! I love your works and you're one of the writers that inspire me

Aa thank you baby I'm so happy to hear that I inspire you!! First off, good luck with the new writing blog! I'm glad that more authors are joining the fandom and wish you all the best with your works! 💞💖💞 Other than trying to keep your blog organized by creating a proper masterlist, choosing a suitable aesthetic, having a set of rules and making sure to tag all of the warnings and necessary mentions (gender of reader, n/sfw or trigger warning), I tried to come up with some useful advises that might help!

1) Keep up the great confidence!

First and the most important thing about a writing blog, is to be confident and strong. Look, you shouldn't be afraid of posting your works and sharing with the redt of the fandom, even as they're not as perfect as you want them to be. The more you write, the more you learn! And you'd grow to be better and better as you continue to share your works! Not even the greatest authors had been any perfect on their first days!

2) If you're accepting requests, try to set a limit

Being overwhelmed with asks is never pleasant, if you just open your inbox to face 500 requests you'd be to be terrified and confused and even lose your passion to work on any of them because of the stress and not knowing where to begin from. Try to set a limit based on your personal limits, how many requests do you think you can have at the time without stressing out because of how much they are? 10? 20? 50? 100? 200? Doesn't matter! If you feel like you're fine with huge numbers like 200 and 150, it's totally fine! If not, remember that setting a character limit would not only reduce the possible chance of stressing out and overwhelming anxiety but it'll also help you manage your inbox better and easier! You can start taking requests again just as soon as your inbox in cleared!

3) Try to treat yourself every once in a while!

Working on requests can be tiring and sometimes, boring. It's great if you enjoy working on requests no matter what they are but remember to write for your own pleasure every once in a while too!

Even if you have like 100 requests laying in your inbox, feel free to write self indulgent fics or something that you'd like to write even if it's super odd an irrelevant to your normal writings! Remember that you deserve to read something you enjoy just as much as the others do, so don't forget to bless yourself with that beautiful writing of yours ;) Remember that it's your blog, you are free to do everything that makes you happy or anything that you simply enjoy doing ^^

4) Remember that no matter what, toxicity always exists and it's not your fault

Look toxicity is very common to be found social medias, especially platforms like tumblr in which anonymous function exists. Even celebrities and world-famous artists might get attacked over pretty silly stuff every once in a while so it's something usual to happen! I wish you never receive any potentially harmful or rude asks or messages but if you ever do, best would be to block or simply ignore them! People in this platform can be ridiculous sometimes lol, there are people who DM creators just to spam hate and block the creator whom they spammed after wards lol, so don't even bother t waste your time with such people!

If anyone comes to your inbox/DMs/comments to say something harsh or leave a sharp critique, best would be to ignore them. Even if you like to answer or respond to reply to them tey to be chill and not take them seriously. Remember, even if they didn't like your content they could've just scrolled down without bothering to read your work, so if they had the guts to come and spam you with nonsense just because they didn't like your work, it's their fault! They didn't have to read, and it doesn't even matter if they liked your work or not! It's their problem and all, so remember not to let these kind of people get to you at all!

5) Take it easy with writing

Don't push yourself too hard, remember that not everything you write is supposed to be *perfect. This is even more serious when it comes to requests, thousands of unexpected ideas might pop up in your inbox and it makes it quite confusing to choose what to write or do!

First off, don't be any shy or anxious about rejecting the requests which don't follow your rules or come when you aren't accepting requests. Those who violate your rules aren't worthy of your time and work!

Secondly, keep this is mind that you aren't expected to be able to write everything! Sometimes the requests are hard to write, the idea seems odd or hard to understand, or sometimes you just don't feel comfortable or don't want to write it all, which is okay!

You always have the right to take/drop whichever of your requests and you don't owe anyone anything for this, it's your own blog, your work, and your content. Don't ever force yourself to write something which you don't like to write!

6) Your health is always the top priority

Remember that no matter how popular you are, how many followers you have, how many requests are left in your inbox or how much people are wishing to get more of your content, you're free to stop writing and put this wrong at a temporarily (or even permanent) hiatus.

Sometimes you just don't feel like writing, then don't write. If you feel like you're being too busy with work/family/school and anything please don't force yourself to write! Remember that your real life matters always come first!

Also, you might even need a break from writing without necessarily being really busy or sad, sometimes you just need to take a break from everything, and it's totally fine to do! Take as much time as you need and stay healthy during your breaks. It'd be even better if you don't even think of any new ideas/Aus while you're taking a break from writing so you can fully set your mind off stuff! Doesn't even matter if followers/readers are going to appreciate this or not, it's not about them, it's about you. Remember that your good readers/follwers who understand that authors are normal humans and not writing machines would surely understand if you need to take a break too!

7)Keep yourself motivated!

There might be days when you can and have the time to write, but something's holding you back. You feel like procrastinating over and over at some point lose the motivation to write. First off, that's a really normal matter to see as many of us have to struggle with laziness sometimes lol, but there are some useful tips to keep yourself Motamedi and hyped while you're planning to write! A bit of challenge would not only make it a lot more fun, but is also a good way to keep yourself motivated and inspired!

First, try prompt lists! They've always got plenty of useful ideas and inspirational quotes to use and are absolutely amazing to give you new ideas for a writing!

Second, try to challenge yourself by simple stuff like setting yourself word limits, trying to see how much you can write in an hour, use some suggested words in your stories (ex: Banana, train, knife, turkey) as a small challenge! You can also try small events (like milestone or holiday events) to celebrate on your blog with stuff like: Prompt list requests, CYOAs, character interaction and other new stuff that gives you a better motivation tp write instead of just having to work on the same, usual writing requests over and over.

Also, I suggest putting an specific hour for writing/ checking on your blog in your daily schedule as this is also a way of avoiding procrastination, instead of writing 10 requests a day and not writing anything for two weeks, try to set an schedule like writing 1-2 writings everyday! Remember to put your real life activities in the schedule too so you won't have to go through any trouble to find a balance between your real life and running a writing blog!

8) Remember the crediting/copyrights

I'm just adding this here because I can see quite a few of writers using uncredited art for their stories and it's been much and less of an issue lately ^^;

First off, the arts/headers used in your writing. Make sure not to use any uncredited card or anyone else's edit without their permission, otherwise it's nothing different from stealing the work from the original artst!

If you're going to leave a link to the artist, make sure to check on them and check if they allow reposts with credit or not. If they don't, don't use their art. If they do, make sure to give them a proper credit with a link to them! (:

Editors too on the other hand spend a very long time making their edits and and aesthetics, so not copying their work is just as important as not stealing art from the artsits!

Pinterest is filled with uncredited art and if there's a pinterest art who is not linked to the original artist, putting the empty pinterest pin link would be useless and steal counted as stealing art.

9) Stick with your own writing style!

Writing style is like signature, everyone's got their very own and unique writing style. From the way you portray characters to what elements you use as the story develops, you're totally different from each and every of other authors in this fandom!

You may sometimes wonder if your writing style is any good at all while you look at other creators writings and feel the difference, and I gotta say: It doesn't even matter what others are doing! All that is important, is you.

Don't try to change your style to become close another writer's style, your own style is great as it already is! Even if you aren't yet that experienced with writing and feel like your writing could be better, remember that your writing skills will indeed improve as you continue to write and read newer and newer stuff, so don't worry about it!

Each and every writing style has got its own beauty, not everyone may totally enjoy your style at first but and as you continue to write, you'd get to learn what makes people enjoy your writing even more or how you can attract new readers with your writings, your style will change for the better as you write!

Though it's totally fine if you feel like there are writers who inspire and motivate you, remember that you won't have to be them in order to improve! You don't need to be just like them to be great! Even if you do have some issues like being a non-native speaker which can make it quite hard for you to write, you'd automatically learn and have most of your errors fixed as the time passes. I made LOTS of mistakes in my first writings but I hardly ever make any mistakes now because I'm used to it! Though it was a bit late I finally recognized my mistakes and corrected them! And I'd continue to correct more of my mistakes as I continue to write!

10) It's very good to have different writer mutuals

This one is rather optional, just a small recommendation! Though there are many writers who might recommend this as a rather important factor for running a writing blog, I'd say that this isn't necessary as there are still well-known tumblr authors and even twst authors who gained attention to themselves on their own and not with the help and support of any mutuals or writer friends, so it isn't impossible to be successful even without having any mutuals!

The thing with having mutuals is that it makes everything easier. A totally new twst blog can gain around 100 followers on its first without even posting anything more than a writing and a list of rules only because of being supported and boosted by well-known blogs while a for normal blog without any support or boosting, it may take up to 2-3 weeks or even an entire month to gain that 100!

Also, getting to talk with different authors (especially those who are more experienced than you) is motivational and heartwarming, you can feel like you have a team to belong to. You can discuss different writing ideas/issues/blog chores with them and see what they may think. You can even have their support with new ideas if you feel stuck/unmotivated while writing a piece!

I didn't have any mutuals on my first days either and I admit that this made things a bit hard, but it didn't hold me back from continuing to write! Yet I admit that it's surely very useful to have a couple of writer friends around you whom you can share your ideas with! Mutuals support each other, reblog each other's works and give each other a better chance of having their works read by more users, which is quite amazing and helpful!

11) Go for it and don't give up!

Remember that no one, not even the greatest writing blogs have been perfect on their first days. They weren't well-known back then either! And they wouldn't have been any successful today without being hard-working and strong. Leaving up to the previous 10 rules is the hardest part of having a blog, and it's all about not giving up!

Do not try to judge your writing and talents based on the amount of notes your posts get or how many followers you have, because these aren't ever going to show your true worth and talents! But I assure you, if you continue to write even through your hard days, your unmotivated days and your sad days no matter how hard it's supposed to be, everything will change. The more you write, the higher the chance of having new people find and read your works would be! Keeping up the hard work and believing in yourself is the key to achieving anything you may wish for, even having a successful writing blog!

As you continue to write, you'll get more readers, more notes on your posts, more followers and more people who enjoy your content!

Hope that these are helpful, wish you all the greatest and good luck with your writing blog!!💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞💕💞

#answered #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #writing #writing tips #writing blog tips

[mmmonie]

Hi my other post? Got notes? And I already had this basically ready to go so………….? Here it is I guess! Also I’m so sorry for how long this is LOL…..I am incapable of shutting up once I get going so it’s under the read more for you…….(also?? thank you? for the followers uhm cheesed to meet you? 😳 lol)

This is basically what I imagine the manifestation of a demon's powers to be like??? I called it the “juvenile phase” in my other post so thats what im going with lol

Here’s some things I said in my first post that are relevant here, slightly edited. (I elaborate more on the different ways demons are born in that post and I think they’re pretty self explanatory, but u might wanna go read it just in case it’s not clear enough 😔 sorry): (link to first post)

* Demons have multiple forms, not just the two shown in game. All in all the brothers have 5, each becoming less and less humanoid. (Most demons only have 4) 

* Half/human born demons are more likely to have both a tail and wings in their first demonic form. Stronger demons like the brothers are merely showing off the strongest of the two, but everyone has both. (Again bc I think they’re sick as fuck lol) This is why the stereotypical devil in our world has both wings and a tail. 

*a demon's features can be influenced by what sin they are, but it’s not a hard or fast rule.**

***this does not apply to little Ds whose look is entirely dependent on their sin. They are an entirely separate conversation 😈 (I elaborate on this briefly at the very end LOL) 

* half/human born demons can have two sins assigned to them, though this makes them less powerful in both. Usually there is a more prominent sin. 

*It should also be noted fallen angels do not have a juvenile phase. While the powers they develop after the Fall are different, they already come prepared, having had intense restraint implemented in their training in the celestial realm. The only things they develop are tails and horns, which happens very quickly during the Fall. They still have the same instincts as demons lol they are just much better at maintaining control. 

*another note: I’m gonna use acronyms for our different types of demons after a while to save me some headache. They’re pretty self explanatory (Ex: half demon = HD) 

With that let’s begin, shall we? 

~~~

*All demons are born with innate magical abilities, the juvenile phase is just the manifestation of their sins and some of their power. Some powers do not come into fruition until much later in a demon's lifespan. (Will elaborate later) 

*They won’t have a complete hold on their powers after this either, it’s just like. The bare minimum of getting a grip so they don’t cause immediate damage LOL they have many years to get into the nuances. Magic to demons is about as easy as breathing, but it still comes with its own challenges. 

*Many of the powers that manifest are shaped by what kind of sin(s) they display. I’m gonna say the sin(s) developed depend on the individual rather than it being hereditary. Though there are powers that are inherent to all demons. (i.e. hypnotizing humans like in lesson 11-14)

*The beginning of the juvenile phase starts when a demon develops their horns, wings, claws and tails. 

*For almost every demon, the juvenile phase lasts about two or three weeks. A human born’s phase will immediately kick in the day after their ceremony. Because of a half demon’s heritage, their transition is delayed and will usually happen around “middle school” age. (However many thousands of years that is lol. Also imagine going through puberty AND growing a bunch of extra shit.........smh.) 

*Natural demons have it slightly easier, they go through this phase very early (around toddler age). They develop the nubs of their horns, wings and tail a while after they’re born. 

*However this is NOT easier for whoever is taking care of them. Demons that develop later are mostly self-sufficient, meaning you can leave them to rest a bit. Can't leave a baby alone for very long though, can you? Especially not when they’re hurtling objects around with their mind, or causing things to spontaneously combust. (Also imagine a regular baby during their teething phase……….now imagine a baby’s teething phase being ten times more itchy AND manifesting new powers. Congratulations on your very cranky and powerful baby, best of luck to you.)

*Parents take this in stride as it’s just how demon babies are. It is all very Addams family esque…. like awwww, our baby just tried to induce horrific hallucinations of our own deaths!!! 🥺🥰🤧 they grow up so fast!!!!

*HB and HD wings and things grow in very quickly. The nubs will sprout from the skin and then mature into wings and horns in just a few days. ND transitions are much more drawn out, taking about a week to complete. All the growth is very itchy for everyone though. 

*You know when you have an itch that just won’t quit or that you can’t reach, so you have to use some outside force to get some relief? Same concept here. Much like deer and their antlers, demons rub their horns and wings up against things to get to those spots they can’t get to themselves. It also has the added effect of encouraging growth and getting excess skin/keratin off them. Family members often help with preening and scratching. 

*There are special concoctions/spells to make the process easier and to help ease the itchiness. As well as products made for specific purposes, like to get at that space where your wings meet your shoulders lol 

*There are also things to pad horns. Having your baby demon impale your shins is no fun. Neither is having your best friend accidentally get stuck in the cabinet because their horns went through the shelf. 

*The first week and a half is usually when a demon is most active. They are encouraged to play fight, stretch their new wings and become familiar with their new instincts. 

•Play fighting is a way to help learn to readjust to their new strength. (and thank god demons are near impossible to kill lol they can get VERY rough.) It’s also considered a bonding activity. 

*Hunting instincts also come into play so it’s not uncommon to see a demon in their juvenile phase playing a really fucked up game of hide and seek with their loved ones (no one gets hurt. Probably <3) 

*These two skills also help with learning how to fly. A game of fucked up hide and seek in the forest is both fun and educational. 

*This is very much like when puppies' paws are too big for they got damn them, except y'know. with horns and claws. So expect some accidental scrapes and

*This is also usually the time where their sin(s) will manifest, along with their new powers. At this point this is where family comes in, as a newly developing demon is reliant on everyone around them to help them learn how to control their strength/powers. Taking care of a demon in their juvenile phase is a family bonding activity, and even those who are prone to being cold are a bit softer during this time. (A reminder that family can be anyone, not just blood related.) 

*The second half of their transition is more about conserving energy for the introduction of their final form.  

*Nesting instincts kick in and are important here, because any nest created will be that demon's home for a period of time. They won’t stray very far from wherever they’ve chosen to stay. Nearly all demons will just choose a comfortable place in their home to nest, however, some demons (i.e. demons like Levi) need a special place because of their final forms. They will be drawn there instinctively.

*A nest is just composed of soft material and sometimes extra objects. For example a greed demon might want shiny or precious objects around their nest. 

*This will also be the home of the loved one(s) taking care of their demon. They will go out and find anything the other one might need or want. A demon will only choose one or two others to take care of them at this time. Other family members are allowed to visit, but the chosen demon(s) stay with their struggling one for nearly the entire last half of this period. 

*It’s considered an honor to be chosen and it is a bragging point, especially if you have been chosen multiple times. 

*Despite what you might think, parental/domestic skills are very important to demons. They live a very long time, and it be a waste to treat their spawn poorly. They’re stuck with them for nearly an eternity, so you might as well try to do your best with them. Being able to showcase being chosen to whomever your courting is, how you say.............a little sexy. So being chosen multiple times? “Wow you’d be a great parent? Tell me more…..😳” 

*Demons will slowly spend more and more time in their nest as they approach the end of their phase. Growing extra things takes a lot of energy! Many demons end up mostly sleeping for the last couple days in preparation for the end. 

*Since they are so sleepy, this is the most outwardly cuddly most demons will be. Close family members are encouraged to come stay in the same space for a while. The demon will often be asleep, but waking up and playing games with them is a great way to bond. If you’re REALLY special you might end up being allowed to sleep in their nest for a bit. 

*The juvenile phase culminates when the demon reaches their final form (usually the fourth one.) Over this last half, they slowly grow more monstrous features. Scales, fur, claws, eyes, teeth, spines.........the whole lot! Anything and everything you can imagine. Each demon's final form is unique, though they do not get a decision as to what features they have. Final forms tend to be very large. 

*This is where they are taught how to use their glamor and how to piece themselves back into a form that’s easier to maneuver. Think of it like starting from the top and working your way down. 

*There are demons whose job it is to go mark down the details of every single final form. Things like what powers manifested, to how tall they are, their overall physical strength and what sin(s) they portray, etc. They are all recorded in the royal archives. It’s a bit like a right of passage, especially for younger demons and their parents. 

*Going back to the very top, some powers won’t manifest until after the juvenile phase. Some won’t even manifest until the demon has hit sexual maturity (which takes a MUCH longer time for demons.) This is true of almost every power that Lust develops except for perhaps an increase in their charisma/ability to charm. Demons who are assigned Lust are considered the late bloomers of the demonic world, as almost all other sins manifest more power right away. 

*Also relating to the top of this post: the reason Little Ds looks are biased on what sin they are is because they are pure concentrated forms of sin given life. They’re extracted from the souls of humans who committed sin, and used for grunt work/errand running. They develop their own personalities as they go, but it takes a bit so they’re kind of a blank slate until then.

~~~

I was gonna be like oh treat for you here’s how the brothers dealt with Satan and his juvenile phase but this is long as FUCK already so I will make…...a separate post. Edit: SURPRISE! treat for u! heres the link if u want

Thanks for reading! Until next time ig? 

#The way I right is so unrefined I’m SORRY I suppose I’ll get better with practice so pls bear with me....... #*WRITE dear god #Are these posts too long? Dtygygyvbyctc I just get talking and I can’t stop hvyvyvyvyvyvtc #Literally the reason this exists is bc I was like what if #mc got turned into a demon and everyone had to c*are fr them and then i was like #oooooo how would that work actually lol #Me: aha this is a nice day dream abt fluff........what would the fucking logistics be though dfjnejlfkjefkjhekf' #i should say this AND my first post r bc of JUST THAT bc I cant leave well enough alone if my day dreams aren #ARENT fleshed out what am i doingggg #THIS IS ABT THE FAMILY DYNAMICS!!!!!!!!!!!!! #ITS ABT GOING THRU SM DIFFICULT AND HAVING OTHERS SAY THRU ACTION THT THEY WILL ALWAYS BE THERE TO SUPPORT U!!!!! #ITS ABT GETTING A SICK ASS SET OF HORNS & SHIT!!!!!!! Would you not ALSO want to look cool as fuck???? #Im sorry for saying cheesed to meet u sdfkjnekjfhk i sadly think im funny #obey me! #obey me headcanons #mental eelness........... #ummm I GUESS THIS IS #world building #????

[anotherbeingsworld]

Bounded by the words.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x F!MC (Casey Valentine)

Summary: A momento from a patient lead to a new hobby for Casey, as it records the moment of their relationship. 

A/N: It was an impulsive reaction, but.. I wanted to post something and this has been in my drafts for months. I actually have submitted this before, and I am posting this again since it is edited much better than before. Today is the 25th and, honestly... it is a hard date for me in a way. So, I am coping it with fics unfortunately, but... I wanted to post it for a while now and I had shown it to @bratzlahela​ before she went on hiatus; and nikka, this is for you and i miss you soo much ! This is a love letter AU which had been in my drafts for months now. I am also dedicating this fic to @mrs-raleighcarrera​ as a thanks for everything,  <3 I have something planned later, I hope I manage to start it but... enjoy. 💜     (I noticed... my love for letters can be shown.. I am so sorry ;;) 

Tags:  @bitchloveskcbaseball​ , @storyofmychoices​ @jaxsmutsuo​ , @mvalentine​ , @princess-geek​ , @lahellacute​ ,  @this-person-is-busy​ , @annekebbphotography​ , @mrsbhandari​ , @dcbbw​ , @choicessa​ , @choices-confessions​ ,@fantasyoverreality98​ , @baltersome​ , @ofpixelsandscribbles​ , @thundergom​  @starrystarrytrouble​,  @kelseaaa​  ,@bratzlahela​ , @choicesficwriterscreations​  , @lalizah​ , @drethanramslay​ , @arcticlumineer​ , @choicesstan1​ , @aveeiro​ , @eleanorbloom​ , @openheartfanfics , @brycesgirl​  , @rookitcarrera​ (if you want to be removed or added, let me know 💜)

MY MASTERLIST

Casey is assigned to take care of 19-year old, Brianna who is diagnosed with a Gastroenteritis. As she walks in the room, Brianna was burying herself into a book. She smiled at the sight, as she tries to remember the last time she gets a chance to read a book herself. The title on the book caught her attention, with the minimalistic cover that certainly calms her eyes. ‘Bounded by The Words.’ The title says.

“Bounded by the words?” Casey said to capture her attention.

Brianna startled, as she drops the book down to her lap. Her eyes widen as she saw Casey there grinning at her.

“You scared me!” Brianna stated as she places her hands over her beating heart whilst Casey walks towards her.

“I’m sorry Bri, you looked like you were drowning in the book. I had to save you somehow.” She winks at her, as a smile appear on Brianna’s face.

“Ha ha ha, very funny doc.”

“So, what is the story about making you drowned in the pages?” Casey asked as she checks on her vitals.

“It’s a story of two lovers..”

“Typical.”

“Hey, I am talking here!”

“Alright, alright my lady.” Casey bows as she lets herself have fun with her.

“As I was saying, it is a story of two lovers who was bounded by a series of letters. They never really got a chance to see each other face-to-face as the man is apart of the world war before. Their communication only relies on letters, handwritten letters that caused their love to grow each day. Unfortunately, neither of them got their happy ending as the man sacrificed himself into the war leaving her a thousand letters behind as a reminder that he will always be there for her…” Brianna wipes a tear as she describe the book.

“Oh wow… that is really sad.” Casey felt her heart break a little from hearing Brianna talk about it.

“Yes, it is. I ended up crying every time I read it and this time is any different.”

“Can I take a look at it?” Casey asks her as she immediately pass the book to her.

“Maybe you should hold onto it, as a momento for taking care of me and keeping me company.” Brianna said with a small smile plastered on her face.

Casey’s eyes widen,

“It’s your favourite book Bri…”

“Don’t worry, I have a few more copies of it at home! You should keep it and maybe try read it at your free time. I know doctors don’t have much time to rest, so consider it as a self-care gift from your favourite patient, which is yours truly to you.” Brianna insists before Casey could return the book in her hands.

“My favourite patient? How did you guess?” Casey asked with amount of sarcasm in her voice causing both of them to break into laughter.

Both of them ended up talking for a little while, exchanging stories, a few hugs and a signature from Brianna aswell. Patients like Brianna, really reminds herself why she wanted to be a doctor in the first place. She loved helping people, saving lives, but she is also interested in knowing the stories of her patients. During her time at Edenbrook, she had met a lot of people with various backgrounds; a surfer, a lawyer who is living this world as she is. She always felt pleasure in knowing her patients, and Brianna is one of those patients that gives her the sign that she loves her job.

After finishing up her shift, Casey makes her way back to Bryce’s apartment as they often have sleepovers with one another. She makes her way to the apartment, where she was met with Keiki who was furiously typing on her (Bryce’s) computer as her brows furrowed in frustration. Casey immediately took off her coat and make her way to the couch, as Keiki perks her head up at her presence.

“What do you got there?” Keiki eyes the book she was holding as she sat down.

“It’s a gift from a patient, I think I am gonna absorb myself in some literary entertainment after those long shifts.” Casey said as she gets herself comfortable on the couch, she starts to read the book. After felt like an hour, she already had surpassed the 100th page.

The door opening pulled her out from the zone, as Bryce finally arrived from the hospital. Casey turn her head to the sound, and smiled as she saw him. Casey stands and give him a kiss on the cheek, guiding him to the couch where Keiki is still on the computer looking more ease than before.

“So, what did you guys do today?” Bryce asked as he placed an arm around Casey pulling her close to him.

“I am trying to finish up this darn assignment, and its just so hard! Why did I take computer science?” Keiki whined as Bryce lets out a small laugh.

“What did you do today Cas?” Bryce turns his gaze to her, as both of their eyes meet.

Casey smiled as she shows the book to Bryce.

“Bounded by the words? It sounds like a cliché rom-com if you ask me.” Bryce said as his eyes are on the book.

“Hey, I am a hopeless romantic and this book managed to play with my heartstrings!” Casey protested as she held the book like her life depends on it.

“Okay, okay…Enlighten me, tell me what is the interesting scenario you have come across in the book?” Bryce challenge her with a wink.

“Their entire love story consists of letters, and they never met yet they still love one another…” Casey felt herself gaze as she placed a dreamy look on her face as Bryce just shook his head.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night Cas.” He says as he placed a kiss to bring her back towards reality.

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

Casey suddenly felt herself to be inspired from the book, as she felt her heart hold on to the concept of writing love letters. It is midnight, as Casey felt herself feeling awake. She slowly makes her way out of Bryce’s hold as he was sleeping peacefully. She puts on one of Bryce’s shirts and heads out to the living room. She sat down on the floor, with a box full of stuff contains, coloured paper and a huge amount of pens. She smiles, as she proceeds.

My dearest Anastasia,

The darkened days had now befallen us, the roared of the enemy unmistakable. Where it’d be my last sacrifice in the name of thy country. The time has come for me to filled in my word, as I would let myself be pained from the death that followed me every day. Regrets washed over me, as this letter would be the final reminder, where life with you made it very much better. The warmth of your touch can still be felt, as our farewell was playing in my mind for the longest time, a needed farewell that kept me awake on one of these days, longing to be in your touch again. But, even in the depths of the darkest roads, you will always be in thy heart. Forever, and always.

Love,

Roland.

The one that started it all, the final letter of Roland Rosio to his long last love, Anastasia Luvielle as their love continues to grow even after the death of Rosio during the final battle. The inspiration that started it all.

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Dear Bryce,

It is our first date together despite the hundreds of times we went and spend our nights at Donahue. It is when we are, something. Something beautiful, as one would say it. The 21st night of September, was a date to remember; our first night out as something more. As a kid, I always imagined myself going to the ball with my very own Prince, as we dance the night away.

But, in this case… they were no prince, a dress, a castle, a glass slipper, heck there aren’t any pumpkins involved in the beginning of our story. It was a story of clumsiness, fairy lights and a whole platter of fries. An interesting combination one might say, as it started with grace and ended with a bag of loaded fries from a small vendor.

It was unique, as you told me your jokes as I would find myself getting red, as the sight of your sweet and smiley face. The way we danced around the circle, as the fairy lights were hanging above us, has been a permanent attachment in my mind.

Lights, Fries and Bryce? A perfect combination.

Love,

Casey.

The first of many has been recorded, as she slips it into a box. A small box which is going to be playing a huge role in her life moving forward. Bryce stops himself in his tracks, admiring the smile on her face before moving towards the living room. The memory of their days together, playing in his mind.

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Dear Bryce,

I don’t know where to start, I miss you. I miss everything about you and, I don’t know how long I can do this anymore . I always wondered why couples would fight over the littlest things and, I hoped that the fate won’t fall down to us, but…I was wrong. It felt like a downfall, and I regret yelling those words at you. You were never a burden, you were the light and I don’t know how I haven’t met you before. My life had changed with you, and it has change again, and… I miss you. I miss everything about you, your hugs, your silly jokes, the way you’d talk at the movies despite being shush away by the audience, especially you. I miss being able to hug you when I was happy, and…I am going to make this right.

Love, Casey.

The first fight, as there were words left unspoken. One of many that made were stained with her tears, as the sadness took over. Her life was different with Bryce, and she didn’t give up. She tried and tried, and tried and try again until one day, she did it right. Neither did he.

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Dear Bryce,

I can’t believe our time has come, we are finally getting married tomorrow! It is a common feeling of excitement to be a bride, and I am very excited for our adventure next. I always felt like you were the one with the huge benefit in doubt in myself, the day we meet in that locker room at Edenbrook. The first time I laid my eyes on you, it felt like I was going to meet a stereotypical male from a rom-com, but… you are different. A good type of different, you have been there for me since the very beginning.

You have seen through it all, and I am very lucky to be apart of your life. You have always been my number one support through the highs and the lows, and I am always going to be grateful for everything we have been through that lead us to this very moment. I am excited for our new beginning, I will see you soon.

Love,

Casey.

The day they become as one, where Casey Valentine and Bryce Lahela finally tied the knot after all these years. A new adventure awaits them, as a whole new life is looking them with a wide-smile. The ceremony was intimate, as all of their close friends and family members were invited. They got married at one of his favourite places, the beach. As they finally got their happily ever after.

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Dear Bryce,

I did it. WE DID IT! After all these years, we did it. I am finally pregnant, after all the negatives. We did it, and you are going to be a dad! I remember those days, you were telling me about teaching our  kid surfing, and silently hoping they will follow your footsteps. Our dreams have been granted, and I am truly ecstatic! The feeling of being a parent had lingered on my mind since early on, and… I am beyond grateful to be on this journey with you.

Baby Lahela is 3 months strong, mommy and daddy can’t wait to see you soon. I can’t wait for all of the new memories we are going to make together. We love you daddy!

Love,

Casey.

After a few years of marriage, and trying… they finally did it. Both of them starting a new adventure with their little bundle of joy, the first adventure with the little Lahela. And, they were very excited for it.

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‘Dad, what is these letters?’ Louis asked in fascination, as he finished reading one of Casey’s letters after all these years.

A smile appeared on his face, remembering the memories from years ago. The day Casey starts to become obsessed over a piece of literature that changed their lives one way or another.

‘Mom loves to write letters, and these is all of hers. She writes it every time we are happy, sad, angry and everything in between. I never understood the purpose of it all, and your mother tends to get emotional over the littlest things and, she still managed to blow me away every time…’ He lets out a sigh, rereading the final letter in the pile. It was written a few days ago.

Dear Bryce,

We have been through it all, am I right? It has been 25 or maybe more years, since our first meeting and I can’t believe it has been that long. We have done an amazing job together, and I am very very proud of what we had achieved all these years. You have been an amazing dad to our little ones, who is not so little anymore. Our little Louis, is our astronomer now, I still remember the first time we were giving him a bath, he was a quiet baby but with a lot of determination and a gold heart, just like his father. Our little girls Kailani and Alexandra, has managed to follow in our footsteps, even though we warned them about the stress and pressure of med school along with warnings from our dear friends, and I can’t believe they did it. They were always so smart, and I can’t say how proud of I am of our little angels. Bryce, you have been my rock, my best friend, my lover, my partner and… I will always cherish you in my heart. You are the first person who never gave up on me, and… life with you, has been the best chapter in my life. You have made me a better person, you have seen me in my lowest and you didn’t left. You were there through thick and thin, and I love you for it. I will never forget the day where we said, the three words. The day where our life started to change every day. You have given me unconditional love and care, you have made my life the way it is today. My mom, always wondered how I came across someone like you before, and I would laugh; fate brought us together and Edenbrook was the start of it all.

Unfortunately, some stories would come to an end. And, the end of mine is coming very soon; take care of the kids, and tell them that mom is very proud of them. My love, you had made me the happiest and… even in the depths of the darkest roads, you will always be in thy heart. Forever, and always.  

Yours,

Casey Lahela.

The end of the letter, the one line that started it all, as a small smiled appear on his face despite the tears falling down on his cheeks. Alexandra and Keilani made their way as they pulled Bryce into a deep hug, letting their sorrows take over breaking every façade that they had. Louis joins in too, as they stood there together, as a family. Her memories were playing in his mind, a recording of every sense from their little time together made it into the highlight as, the letters felt like a metaphor, a feeling somehow she is there with them, looking down with a huge smile. A smile of satisfaction, as a chance to finally let herself go.

‘I will always love you Casey. Forever and always.’ He whispered slowly, as their life story was flashed through his eyes which is the best moments of his life.

THE END.

#playchoices #bryce x mc #bryce lahela #casey valentine #open heart #open heart second year #anotherbeingsworldwrites #choices fic writers creations #fics #bryce oh #bryce x f!mc

[sheliesshattered]

This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 8: The Temple

The eighth and final chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! You can find it here on AO3 and here on Tumblr. Below the cut are extras for this chapter and a few things for the story over all. I’ve had such fun writing this fic, and hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and following along with the writing process here too!

Like the previous chapter, chapter 8 is named for the location where it takes place, in this case the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, which is near the Valley of the Kings, Thebes, and modern Luxor, on the west bank of the Nile.

As mentioned in both this chapter and previous chapters, several sections of the temple have stars painted on a blue background on the ceilings:

The ‘towering statue’ Clara comments on is one of a line of statues depicting the pharaoh Hatshepsut as the god Osiris, only a few of which are still standing:

Here’s a short video showing both the exterior and interior of the temple from earlier this year.

I came across the Temple of Hatshepsut fairly early in my writing process, when I was looking into what archaeological dig sites were active in the 1910s and 1920s. This photo from the late 1920s shows the continuing work going on in the area (that’s the Temple at the back left), and served as part of the inspiration for Clara’s memory of finding the Doctor at a dig site in Thebes in 1921:

About a month into writing This Isn’t A Ghost Story, I was grappling with the detail of Clara’s wedding ring, based on the poll results you guys gave me. I had been toying with going with an emerald for her ring, since emeralds have some interesting ties to ancient Egypt, but I also really wanted to go the route of a TARDIS-blue sapphire, and in particular a star sapphire really appealed to me, for its look and its symbolism. The results of that little impromptu poll clearly pointed to a star sapphire -- but also suggested I tie it into the world-building somehow.

Those two elements came together in my head rather abruptly when I remembered the star ceiling at the Temple of Hatshepsut, and after digging into the history of Hatshepsut, I realized it worked almost too well. On 28 June this final epilogue chapter sprang into being in basically the form you see it in here, baring a few edits I’ve made to it in the three months (!!) since then.

As the Doctor says in this chapter, the Temple was designed and overseen by Hatshepsut’s head advisor Senenmut, and many modern Egyptologists do in fact believe that the two may have been lovers during Hatshepsut’s time as pharaoh. While there are many stylized statues of Senenmut (including a few of him with Hatshepsut’s daughter, to whom he served as primary tutor), archaeologists have also found ostracons, chips of limestone that ancient artists used as throw-away sketching surfaces, that depict Senenmut in what he more likely looked like in life:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees this resemblance: 

And then there’s Hatshepsut herself, who is depicted in numerous different ways throughout art and statuary, sometimes shown as more typically male in her role as pharaoh, but more often shown in what Egyptologists believe she looked like in life -- large eyes, full cheeks, and a small chin:

I mean:

Once my brain made that connection, I really couldn’t let it go.

I had originally planned to end the story with the sequence in the Cairo museum that eventually became chapter 7, but the connection between Clara and the Doctor and the real historical Hatshepsut and Senenmut -- with the added parallel of Senenmut as tutor and guardian of Hatshepsut’s daughter corresponding to the Doctor watching over Margot in Ghost Story, even -- was just too good to pass up. 

Senenmut’s tomb is as the Doctor described it, with the oldest known astronomical ceiling of any tomb or temple in Egypt:

His tomb is very near to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, and tunnels into the cliffside such that it is extremely close to Hatshepsut’s own tomb, which is entered from the Valley of the Kings, on other side of that mountainous area. This has only further fueled speculation that the two were very much in love -- as pharaoh, Hatshepsut had to have her tomb built in the Valley of the Kings, and as a commoner Senenmut couldn’t be buried there. But they could design their tombs such that they would be as close as possible to each other, even if the entrances are miles apart.

Part of my goal with this final chapter was to give a hint at a larger story that this version of Clara and the Doctor are just a part of. I left the possibility that they had once been Hatshepsut and Senenmut intentionally open-ended, so the reader can make their own decision. They might have been, they might not have been, but in the end what matters is that they are together and in love now. 

Similarly I also wanted to make allusions to both Doctor Who canon -- Senenmut as an ancient astronomer, and Clara’s comments about travelling the stars together in their next life -- as well as the wide variety of fanfiction that exists for this ship. In a way there are thousands of versions of them scattered about out there, finding each other and falling in love over and over again. This Isn’t A Ghost Story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s part of a much larger multi-layered story that is constantly being told and re-told. And in many ways, that’s what I love best about fanfiction versus any other genre of fiction.

The process of writing this story has been so interesting and rewarding, frustrating at times and huge amounts of fun at other points. With this final chapter posted, This Isn’t A Ghost Story is officially the first multi-chapter, non-series fanfic I have ever actually finished, in more than a decade of posting fanfiction online. This is the first time I’ve made myself wait to start posting a story until it’s nearly complete, and I documented more about my process thoughts here on Tumblr than I have for anything I’ve written previously.

It has been a fantastic nearly four month journey, and so much of that is down to the lovely interactions with those of you reading, both here and over on AO3. From the early interest many of you expressed way back at the beginning of June, to the comments and cheerleading on my #process thoughts posts throughout the summer, to all the many wonderful and humbling comments on the story on AO3, I could not have made this journey without you guys. With what a strange, stressful, and often depressing year 2020 has been, I know that when I look back on this year, this is what I’m going to remember the best, taking this journey along with all of you.

And on that note -- do any of you have any questions about Ghost Story? Anything about the writing process or the world building or really anything at all, I am more than happy to answer in as much detail as you like. Feel free to ask here, or on AO3, or use my Tumblr askbox, now or at any point in the future. ❤️

@tounknowndestinations​ had asked about the timeline I worked out for the entire story, that I’ve been keeping under wraps for fear of spoilers. Originally this started as just a way to keep straight how many years had passed -- ‘do I say eighty-six years here, or eighty-seven??’ etc -- but eventually ballooned from there to cover the entire narrative, and even some of the timeline that is only hinted at in places. This is its final form in my working googledoc:

1875: the Doctor is born

1885: the House is built

February 1899: Clara the 1st is born

13 May 1921: the Doctor and Clara the 1st meet in Cairo, she is 22, he is 46

12 May 1923: the Doctor and Clara the 1st marry in Glasgow, she is 24, he is 48

June 1925: Clara and the Doctor return from Egypt

August 1925: purchase of the House

23 Nov 1927: the Doctor dies, age 52

21 August 1928: Margot is born

23 Nov 1928: Clara the 1st dies, age 29

8 April 1956: Ellie is born. Margot is 27

23 Nov 1986: Clara is born. Ellie is 30

1991: at 5 years old, Clara tells Ellie and Margot about the ghost 

September 2000: Ellie dies of cancer, age 44. Clara is not quite 14

January 2010: Dave Oswald dies of a heart attack, age 56. Clara is 23

October 2014: Margot dies, age 86, leaving her house to Clara, who is nearly 28 

16 Nov 2014: Clara has the nightmare that begins to unlock her past life memories

13 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor return to Cairo to mark 100 years since they met, the Doctor is restored to life

18 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor visit the Temple of Hatshepsut, which leads Clara to wonder if perhaps they have met and fallen in love before

Thank you so much to all of you who have followed along during the writing process, to everyone who has reblogged chapter posts here and commented on AO3, and everyone who has cheered me on during the past four months. You have made writing this such a joy, and I cannot wait to share my next project with you. ❤️

#This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story extras #process thoughts #my writing #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor