ALSO I FINALLY WATCHED THE LMK S4 SPECIAL I enjoyed it! Was pretty good I'll put more thoughts under the cut so Spoiler warning

Tbh I really liked what they did with MK's monkey form in these episodes, it was super cool to see, despite being OP it's pretty well-done imo. Also his transformation still being unexplained is pretty intriguing to me. I hope they'll do more with what they did in s4 with implying him to be a harbinger of chaos (especially considering the damage he did in these episodes) just because I enjoy it when characters struggle with their morality

I always enjoy seeing more of Wukong's backstory/stuff pulled from jttw (I really loved season 4 for this reason lol) so I liked the first ep and also a lot of the memory/flashback scenes. Plus it was just nice to see him interacting with the rest of the characters again after being gone for so much of s4 :D I like it when they do little planning/doodle sequences like this

oh also the eps gave us wukong in this outfit so ofc I had to like them

It’s a book Steve’s actually read.

Well, Nancy kinda mostly read it to him. Which really just makes the whole thing hurt a little bit more.

His speakers were crackling and he had turned the bass up high enough that the song was distorted, vibrating through his car.

It was embarrassing. Scream-singing to Kate Bush while sobbing into your steering wheel in the high school parking lot.

He’s just got a lot of feelings, and Nancy dumped in that alleyway, he can literally see it and Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Cathy. I’ve come home, I’m so cold.

Which, it’s all just bullshit. Pardon the word.

Because, Catherine and Heathcliff don’t even fucking end up together. There’s something about family difference and he remembers Nancy saying socioeconomic like that word meant anything to him and Catherine winds up dead of bad brain-itis and Healthcliff is a dick so they never should’ve been together anyway.

But, whatever.

He’s feeling very much like Catherine right now. Standing on the moors with a broken heart.

Because fuck Heathcliff. And fuck Nancy.

Kate Bush is the only one he can trust anymore. 

Her and her red dress and Steve’s insides feel like that red fucking dress in a way he can’t explain and Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window-

He just about jumped out of his skin when the passenger door opened.

One too-tan hand reached out to crank the volume down on the song, and a too-pink tongue slid across too-white teeth and

“Harrington, I’m obligated to tell you that you’re acting like a pussy.”

Hargrove.

Y’know, he’s the top of Steve’s Fuck List. Right there with Nancy and Heathcliff, and everyone else who sucks shit and makes people feel bad.

“Can it, dickhead.”

To be fair, Steve was ugly crying to Kate Bush by himself in his car, but he’s allowed to be a pussy by himself in his car.

Hargrove just gave Steve a look that Steve’s pretty sure meant I’m resisting the urge to punch you in the face right now, but was undercut by that stupid fucking tongue of his lolling around like some kinda hyper-sexual golden retriever.

Meanwhile, Kate Bush was still singing and Steve was still Cathy on the moors.

“I’m fucking sad, or whatever. Let me be a pussy.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington. You really this cut up about some prissy little princess? She’s not even the best this town has and that is saying something.”

“Y’know, for a guy that’s constantly calling all the girls in town ugly, you sure do fuck a lot of ‘em.”

“At least I’m getting some. When was the last time the princess put out, eh? Or was she savin’ it for marriage? I could see her bein’ one of those types.”

He said those types like he wasn’t wearing a saint’s pendant around his neck. Like Steve didn’t see his family all sitting uncomfortably silent together in the diner after mass every single Sunday afternoon.

It was weird, seeing Billy in a nice shirt. All buttoned up properly with his hair looking all respectful. Especially since Steve was usually high off his ass and slurping down a strawberry milkshake with cheese fries like he’d die if he didn’t.

“I’m not gonna talk about my sex life with you, Hargrove.”

“Aw, why not, Harrington. Don’t wanna compare body counts? You embarrassed or something?” Billy was grinning that shitty sharp grin of his, still waggling his fucking tongue as he leaned closer to Steve. “You still a virgin, King Steve?”

The song ended. Steve rewound the tape. It started up again.

He needed Kate now more than ever.

“Of fucking course I’m not. I’m just not some gross asshole that goes around telling everyone who’ve I’ve fucked. It’s called being a decent guy.”

“It’s called being a prude. Now, c’mon. Tell me who’ve you fucked. Maybe we’re tunnel buddies.”

Steve wanted to throw up. Kate was on the moors again.

“You’re disgusting. Tunnel buddies. How gross can you even get?”

“I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”

“I don’t know what that means and you’re a shithead.”

Hargrove tossed his head back and laughed, showing off those teeth that looked like they could take a chunk out of Steve’s flesh if Billy got close enough to try.

You had a temper like my jealousy. Too hot, too greedy.

“Seriously, though.” Billy had stopped laughing. “What is this shit?”

“She’s Kate Bush and she speaks to my heart.”

Billy just stared at him.

Yeah, that was a pretty pussy thing to say.

“I just got fucking dumped, dude. Let me be sad about it,” Steve backpedaled.

And then Billy did something very unexpected.

Well, he did something very normal for his character, and then he did something unexpected.

He lit up a cigarette.

And then passed it to Steve.

Steve filled up his lungs with a thick drag of smoke. He held it for as long as he could.

Which was really long.

Swimmer’s lungs. And that.

He blew out the smoke. Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window.

“Is this fucking song based on Wuthering Heights?”

“Yeah, you dumb dumb. It’s fucking called Wuthering Heights.”

“Okay, dumb dumb, I clearly don’t even know this song.”

“Maybe you’d be less of an ass if you did. Dumb dumb.”

Billy lit a cigarette for himself, letting the smoke trail out of his mouth like he was some kind of dragon.

Billy probably fancies himself a dragon. Thinks he’s this big scary creature that just goes around breathing fire and ransacking villages for their gold.

Ooh, it gets dark, it gets lonely on the other side from you. I pine a lot, I find the lot falls through without you.

Really, he’s probably like a dog of some kind.

Domesticated.

“You’re staring at me.”

Yeah. Steve was staring at him. Watching him smoke while Kate Bush played loudly. The speakers still sounded like shit even though Billy had turned down the song considerably.

Steve didn’t know when he had stopped crying.

Probably right when Billy had let himself into his cave of self pity, but his face was still wet.

He wiped it off, not pointing out that Billy had been staring at him too.

“Why are you here so late? Practice ended like, an hour ago.”

Billy shrugged lamely. He kinda looked like a little kid.

Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window. 

“Bored. Didn’t feel like being home.”

“So you came to sit in the break-up mobile with me. How nice.”

“Mostly I just wanted to make fun of you for listening to this garbage. I could hear it across the lot.”

And sure enough, Billy’s car was parked a good ways down from Steve, about as far away as their two cars could be from one another.

Steve doubts Billy heard Kate all this way, but what’s he gonna do, bring that up?

No. He’s rather sit in this weird silence that settled between them, feeling awkward about himself and his body and listen to Kate.

I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering, Wuthering Heights

“She’s not worht it, y’know.”

Steve had to do a double take to make sure it was still Billy sitting in his passenger seat, and not some cheap imposter wearing a Billy-suit and saying almost nice things to Steve in a not-mean voice.

“What’d you say earlier? Plenty of bitches in the sea?” Steve would’ve laughed at that comment when Billy made it if they weren’t naked together.

There’s something things you don’t do while naked with another guy, and laughing just isn’t one of them.

Plus, he had been a little too focused on figuring out why Billy’s nudity had given him that same hot feeling that nearly seeing Rob Lowe’s dick in The Outsiders movie gave him last year.

“I mean, it’s true. Don’t sweat this break-up. She seemed like an uptight bitch anyway.”

“Hey.”

Steve was still a little too sore, a little too fresh from the split to trash talk Nance like that.

“Whatever. Get high. Look at some porn. You’ll be fine.”

Ooh, let me have it. Let me grab your soul away.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Silence again.

Kate was back to the chorus.

The song was almost over.

“You could always go on the rebound. get her out of your mind with someone that’ll actually put out.”

Hargrove had barely even said it before he was yanking Steve forward, giving him no time to prepare as their mouthed smooshed together in something that was very very awkward, and very very sloppy.

Steve still had tears on his cheeks, and his cigarette was getting dangerously close to the filter, threatening to burn his fingers, and Kate was still singing, and Billy was kissing him, and dear God Steve’s at least a little bit gay.

Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy. I've come home, I'm so cold. Let me in your window. 

They drifted apart from one another just in time for Steve to rewind the song again.

“So, uh, yeah,” Billy said, and his cheeks were this wonderful shade of red, and Steve couldn’t stop thinking about Kate’s red dress and that fucking kiss and he was on the moors again, but this time he and Billy were making out in the grass and oh fuck, oh fuck-

“Yeah. Good.”

“Good?” Billy raised on of those dark eyebrows at him, his cheeks still burning.

“Good. Very good.”

Billy nodded a few times, sucking on his cigarette. Steve suddenly remembered he had dropped his on the floormates and tried to stamp it out before it got singed to bad.

“Okay then. Good.” Billy opened the passenger door, stepping out and flicking away his cigarette. He seemed to think for a moment, before turning around, leaning his upper body into Steve’s car.

Steve thought they were going to kiss again.

He was ready to go for it, ready to let his eyes close and maybe let it lead to more. He was Cathy and he was ready for some action.

But Billy just grinned again.

And skipped the song.

Ten Days - Day Two

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, a smidge of domestic Javi

Word Count: 1878

Note: My very first completed fic EVER and first original post on Tumblr...what a time to be aliiiiive!!!  The rating will go up in later chapters, FYI.  

Read the full series on Ao3

The next morning was a Saturday, and you’re up early.  You creep into your partner’s apartment, hoping to high heaven that he’s sleeping.  Of course he’s wide awake though, and has clearly managed to peel himself off the couch on his own.  You find him lolling in a kitchen chair, nursing what smells like a terrible cup of coffee.  He smirks at you when you enter and see that he’s up and about on his own.  You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re already irritated with him.  You simply ignore his presence and go about making him something for breakfast.  The two of you share the space amiably, though you avoid his gaze as you fiddle with breakfast.  You click on the radio at some point and the two of you listen to the chatter and news; occasionally you inquire about a word or phrase you don’t quite catch or understand.  Your Spanish is good, but still has a few holes here and there. 

You’re pleased that he seems to be in a better mood this morning and you inquire as to how he slept.  He shares that he had slept well, surprisingly, despite the fact that he spent the night on the couch.  You don’t mention that the antibiotics may have very well made him sleepy; you don’t want to go anywhere near the deal you had made regarding those pills.  But you appreciate the rest he has gotten nonetheless. A good night’s sleep could do wonders. Especially for the likes of Javier Peña when he was in his foulest moods.

By the time you slide eggs and toast onto a plate in front of him, your irritation with him has disappeared and he has you chuckling quietly about a colleague that neither of you cared for; the smarmy DEA agent in question had done nothing less than piss himself during the fateful shootout three days prior that had resulted in your partner’s injury.   You both enjoyed a level of satisfaction that the blowhard had been taken down a notch or two, though you were sure he would spin some elaborate story explaining away his actions (or lack thereof), and succeed in keeping his lips firmly attached to the ambassador’s ass cheeks.

“Fuck, he drives me crazy!” Javier sighs out as he pushes his empty plate away, carefully stretching his arms over his head, taking care not to pull too much and separate his stitches.  He winces a little and his shirt pulls up above his stomach, revealing the bottom part of his bandages.  

“Peña!  What the fuck?”  You say, reaching across the space separating your chair from his and lifting his shirt up higher.  Your eyebrows lower in consternation, glaring at him. “Did you change your bandages?”  Javier lowers his arms and gently slaps your hand away from the messy tape job on his torso, giving you a look reminiscent of a teenager whose parent insist they put on a coat.  

“I’m not helpless, you know.  You said so yourself, it isn’t that bad.  I don’t need a babysitter.”  You snort at that as you gather up the breakfast plates and rinse them at the sink.  

“Then you’re gonna have to stop acting like such a baby when it comes to….” you stop yourself and quickly covering your near mention of the antibiotics. “...taking care of yourself.”  You shake the water from your fingers and return back to the table, looking around pointedly at the whiskey bottles half empty on a shelf and the several empty beer cans smashed and cluttering the counter.  You reach across the table and slide the ashtray and nearly empty pack of cigarettes away from him, smirking as you watch him make a grab for them but stopping suddenly when his injury pains him, keeping him from moving as far or as quickly as he would have liked.  “You can start by cutting back on these.”  He gives you a pointed look, raising an eyebrow.

“Really?  If you thought I was a dick last night, do’ya really think dealing with me when I’m craving nicotine’ll be any better?”  He watches your face as you consider that for a moment and then, resigned, slide the pack and ashtray back towards him.  He doesn't reach for either, though, but instead keeps his gaze on you as his face softens and he says your name softly.  You hate how your stomach clenches hearing his velvety gruff voice form the syllables of your name.  Get a grip! You chastise yourself.  “Listen…” he starts, then stops, his eyes dropping to the tabletop for a moment, before raising them again and looking at you abashedly.  “I’m sorry about...the way I acted yesterday.  The things I said to you.  I appreciate your help...even though I don’t act like it.”  His apology means the world to you and you nod your head at him, accepting his apology.  He shoots you THAT smile: the one he uses when he’s luring in an informant at a bar or flirting with a typist at the office.  You look away quickly, breaking the moment.  You clear your throat.

“Well, since you took it upon yourself to take care of your stitches, I guess I’ll head out.” He lifts his chin up once in a gesture of agreement.  “I’ll be around today.  Call me if you need anything, OK?”  He repeats the gesture with his chin.  “And seriously, Peña, don’t push too hard.  You’ve done enough this morning as it is.”  He lets his chin drop several times in response this time.  You offer to help him relocate to the couch, but he motions to his half full coffee cup on the table before him.

“Nah, I can get there ok.  I’m alright here for now.”  He looks up at your doubtful face.  “I’ll be careful, I promise.”  You let it go, hoping that he’s telling the truth and head for the door.  You have your hand on the knob when you hear him call your name.  You swing back around and enter the kitchen…

...the pill bottle is sitting on the table in front of him next to his coffee cup. Where the fuck did THAT come from? You wonder.  He says nothing, just watches your face carefully as you spot it.  His face remains blank as you look him dead in the eye, putting a hand on your hip and clenching your jaw.  

“Seriously, Peña?”  He just shrugs, his face still expressionless.  You flop back into the chair you had been in, sighing dramatically.  “You just sat here and apologized.  You’re really gonna hold me to this stupid idea?” He blinks innocently, saying nothing and continues to look at you.  Several long seconds passed as the two of you look at one another, each trying to weigh and measure what the other is thinking.  Finally, you roll your eyes to the ceiling and sigh, reaching for the bottle and spilling a pill out into your hand.  You flick it across the table towards him and cross your arms over your chest as you watch and wait for him to swallow it, following it with a drink from his coffee cup.  Without being told this time, he opens his mouth and shows you that it is indeed gone, to which you roll your eyes even more.  

You let out a sharp gasp mid-eyeroll as the room seems to jolt and move around you.  Your body jerks as the chair you sit in moves sharply across kitchen tile, emitting a harsh scrap of wood against ceramic; you look down to find Javier’s foot wrapped around the leg and lower rung of your chair.  The sneaky bastard had somehow gotten his foot attached without you noticing and pulled it (and you) closer to his own chair; eliminating the safe chasm of space that had been between you.  You’re thrown off balance from the abrupt movement towards him and one hand quickly snaps out to brace yourself on his shoulder, preventing your forward motion from vaulting you into his lap.  He would have loved that! You think to yourself as you glare at him, pulling your hand back from the toned muscles of his hard chest, hating that you noticed them.  He smirks at you, but makes no other movement towards you, keeping his dark eyes locked with yours.  

“God damnit, Peña!” you growl.  His eyes flash innocently as he raises his eyebrows.

“What?  We had a deal….” You grit your teeth, steadying yourself.  After glaring at him a moment longer, you shake your head in exasperation, then lean the final few inches towards him and place your lips on his.  

Once again you’re struck by how soft his lips are.  How is it possible that this gruff and bristly grump of a man could have something so soft on his body?  The lips that you were feeling now seemed in such stark contradiction to the lips that so often let spill dark curses and angry Spanish and harsh insults to friend and foe alike.  It's as though he were a different person entirely sitting here in front of you.  For a long moment, your lips merely rest upon one another, pressing softly together again.  He has a different strategy this time, it seems, than from the one last night: a split second before your lips meet, he parts his own and carefully lowers his chin, causing your lips to land on his unevenly, giving him leverage to widen his mouth and part yours lips in the process, allowing him the access inside your mouth that his tongue had sought the previous night. Just barely grazing the wet warmth behind your lips, he runs his tongue along your bottom lip searching for the slightest movement or indication from you that would give him permission to extend it further into your mouth.  The only movement you make comes from the ministrations of his mouth against yours. You find yourself swirling along with the sensuousness of his wet tongue and the feel of his mustache.  You realize you were so taken aback by the chair pull that you had forgotten to plan how many seconds you would allow this to go on.  And right now, the taste of him is convincing you that maybe it doesn’t really matter all that much….

You sense more than see his hand raise up towards your face and the movement startles you and causes you to pull away from him, but only slightly.  You realize you’re both panting softly, breathing into each other’s parted mouths.  Your eyes meet his gaze….so close: Yeah...Ok, it’s not just me then, you think with a feeling of satisfaction.  You make a fairly solid attempt at swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat, but you find your mouth has turned to cotton and your brain doesn’t seem to be sending quite the correct signals to the rest of your body.  You inadvertently lick your lips and see Javi’s eyes flash dark with desire as they lower to watch your tongue’s journey.  You blink a few times and swallow heavily again before pushing back in your chair and rising, turning on your heel and leaving his apartment without another word.

Day One

Day Three

Dessert Sounds Good - Bucky Barnes x Reader (2/2)

Okay lovely people, here is the second part to Dessert Sounds Good. Not quite sure where I was intending on going with this bit, was a rollercoaster to write. So here you have a bit of angst, a bit of fluff and a whole lot of Bucky.

@amisutcliff​ thank you again for requesting this to start with. 

Warnings: none, unless you count sad Bucky?

Buy Me A Coffee

You can find Part 1 here 

Retreating into the kitchen, you place the empty dinner plates onto the counter, leaving them for you to clean afterwards. Your cheeks are still flushed as you pace the tiled floor. You check to make sure you are out of Bucky’s view as you rush to the sink, running the cold tap. Cupping your hands together, you splash your face with the cool water and then using the hand towel, pat your cheeks dry. Why did he have to have this effect on you? Taking deep breaths, you wait for your heart rate to return to normal and compose yourself before preparing dessert.

When you feel the burning in your cheeks calm down, you turn, slipping on your oven gloves. Opening the oven door, the smell of warm, freshly cooked apple pie, wafts into the room. You had found the recipe online and knew it would be the perfect pick me up.

Carefully placing the pie dish down on the granite counter, you quickly remove the gloves, throwing them back in their drawer. You then serve two slices onto plates, accompanying each with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Before returning to Bucky, you take a deep breath, picking up a plate in each hand before tiptoeing back to the table.

“Your dessert, Mr Barnes.” From his seat, at the mention of his name, Bucky’s head raises after absentmindedly staring at his hands.

“That looks amazing.” A smile crosses his face as he watches you place his plate directly in front of him.

“Shut up.” You brush off his compliment as you take your seat opposite him.

“No, seriously. This looks amazing, Y/N.”

Your head shoots up as he says your name. “What?” Bucky’s face immediately fills with panic at your reaction.

“That’s, er-,” you think of a way to explain your reaction to him without sounding ridiculous, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.” The words are said so delicately under your breath that he has to strain his hearing to understand you, but he does perfectly. A stupid smile spreads across his lips as he tilts his head to see your face which is hiding behind your hair and hands. “Stop looking at me like that Barnes and just eat your pie.” Not sensing any movement from him, you raise your head reluctantly and make eye contact. “Please.” The tone of your voice loses all teasing as you plead with him.

Bucky leans back in his chair then, chuckling silently to himself as he directs his attention to the pie in front of him.

Discreetly from your seat across from him, you watch his expression as he takes a bite of pie from his fork. Bucky closes his eyes as he chews the sweet pastry in his mouth as he finishes the mouthful he stills, savouring the taste. Leaning his head back, Bucky tries so hard to hold back the tears that threaten to pool in his eyes.

“Doll, this is incredible.” Still he doesn’t look at you, but you are quick to notice the Brooklyn accent is thicker in his voice.

“It’s just a pie, Bar-“

“You don’t understand.” He’s looking at you again now. “This tastes, and I don’t know how, but this tastes exactly how my ma made it.” The glossiness of his eyes is still there as he continues to reminisce, gesticulating as he does so. “It looks the same too. God, you’re perfect, L/N. I mean, I honestly can’t believe that this tastes the same. Thought I’d forgotten what ma’s food tasted like.” A lone tear spills from his eye and runs down his cheek, as soon as he feels it, Bucky rubs it away harshly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“.

He scrapes his chair back on the floor, bolting from the table and away from you to his bedroom.

It takes everything within you to hold back the tears in your eyes as you watch him go. Contemplating whether to go after him, you glance towards his slice at his empty space and then towards the remaining pie in the kitchen. The latter seemed a better option, so rushing you grab the forks you have both already used and the pie dish from the counter. Without further hesitation, you follow in the direction that Bucky had left.

Approaching his door slowly, you rap your knuckles against the hard wood. When you are met with nothing but silence, you decide that your options are to either open the door and let yourself in or wait him out. It doesn’t take much for you to know what the smartest and kindest approach to this will be. So, placing the dish on the carpeted floor in front of his door, you kneel down and then place yourself opposite his door, back pressed against the wall. You wait patiently, knowing that what Bucky needs is time and you will be waiting there for when he is ready.

Exactly twenty-two minutes since you sat down, Bucky’s door opens by an inch. When he peeks through the crack, he is met with the sight of you lightly dozing, your head lolling forwards. In front of you, placed outside his door is the leftover pie from your meal. His heart wrenches as he looks at you. No one, other than Steve, has ever been this patient with him.

He doesn’t want to disturb you, yet he knows that the position you are in is uncomfortable, he has found himself on too many occasions sat hunched over against his wall to understand. Bucky bends down and takes the dish inside his room, balancing it on top of a stack of books he has been meaning to return unnoticed to Sam. Happy that it is secure, he returns to you.

Crouching next to your sleeping form, Bucky wraps his left arm underneath your legs, hooking it beneath your knees, hoping that the cold sensation doesn’t startle you awake. He gently manoeuvres his other arm between your back and the wall. Lifting you up, Bucky makes sure that you are secure in his arms before he walks back into his room.

Moving towards the bed, that is bare besides a grey bedsheet, a result of the fact that Bucky does not sleep, he treads carefully on the floor, trying his best to not disturb you. Unsure of how to get you onto the bed, he stops for a second before he lowers your slowly. When he feels your body touch the bed, he begins moving his arms from around you, letting you go when he knows you are completely on the mattress. You stir slightly as you adjust to the feeling of the softness beneath your body. In the effort of carrying you, the hem of your shirt had been pushed up to your thighs, your legs covered in goose bumps. At the realisation of this, Bucky diverts his gaze and goes in search of a duvet.

His own duvet had been discarded long ago, after one of his first nights in the compound, after he had torn through it with his hands as the result of a nightmare during his sleep. Rummaging through his walk-in closet, he finds a cover still in its packaging, a note taped over the label in Sam’s writing. ‘You’re welcome.’ Shaking his head at Sam’s ego induced joke, Bucky reminds himself to thank him in some way when he sees the man next.

Quietly unwrapping the cover, and laying it on the floor, he searches for a sheet to put it in. Once he has one in his hands, he makes a swift job of getting it together.

Walking back towards the bed, he notices that you have rolled over, your head pressed comfortably into one of his pillows, your arm bringing it closer to your face. There is something so domestic about seeing you this way, that he cannot help but imagine what it would be like to see you like this every day. Before his mind can wander any further, he softly places the duvet over your sleeping form, ensuring that your body is completely covered.

After turning off the main light and plunging the room into darkness, Bucky takes a seat at his desk. With nothing else to do, Bucky flips the switch on his desk light, checking on you over his shoulder. He takes his most recently started book, a mystery novel, that he can guarantee he has already solved; and brings the pie towards him, grateful for the forks you had brought along.

Before he realises it, Bucky has finished a majority of the pie and a feeling of shame washes over him. He hears you begin to stir behind him, thinking nothing of it, with only a few chapters to go, he continues with his book. Hearing no further movement from you, Bucky relaxes.

“No.” Your voice cuts through the silence of the room and Bucky freezes, his book dropping to the desk. Keeping still he listens on.

“Get off of him.” Again, your words cut through the room and he knows that it’s a nightmare plaguing your mind. “Let him go.” Immediately, Bucky is up off of his chair and kneeling on the mattress. Looking at you, his heart aches, a lead weight in his chest. Your hair is matted to your forehead with sweat and there are tears running down your cheeks, eyes tightly shut. Body physically shaking with fear induced from the nightmare in your head. Bucky knows what nightmares can do to a person and seeing it happen to someone else is the most painful of all. Especially watching it happen to you.

Without thinking it through, Bucky attempts to soothe you, placing his metal palm against your temple, brushing your hair back softly. Still, your breathing is laboured, and he can practically feel your heart beating through your skin. “Please, let him go.”

“Y/N, you’re safe.” Bucky knows that you won’t be able to hear him, but he knows that ripping you from your sleep would only make things worse in the long term. “You’re safe.” Words barely above a whisper.

“Bucky! No!” With no warning, your body shoots up from the bed and if it weren’t for his serum-enhanced speed, your forehead would have collided with his. Looking into your eyes, Bucky sees the pure fear hidden behind them. He knows that look. The look that he sees in his own eyes when he looks in the mirror. He pulls you tightly into a hug, wrapping both arms around you. It isn’t the most comfortable or ideal position, with him balancing on his knees and you halfway between sitting up and lying down. But this what you need.

“I’ve got you.” He strokes the back of your hair with his hand, tenderly brushing through the strands that have become tangled from sleep. “I’ve got you.”

Let’s Jeff It: A “Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck” Medical Review

First, whoever thought of this episode naming convention did not expect this show to make it past season 3.

Previous MacGyver Medical Reviews:

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border - Mason + Cable + Choices - Bitter Harvest - 

The episode centers around a pilot (Ben) and his son (Asher) flying in a private Cessna aircraft. The pilot has a medical emergency and becomes unconscious, leaving the plane, with 10 year old Asher inside, on autopilot and running out of fuel. Mac and Desi manage to board the plane in mid-air using an improvised zip-line, and while Desi attempts to land the plane before fuel runs out, Mac attempts to save Ben’s life by improvising a defibrillator. It’s found that the pilot had been deliberately poisoned with an unknown substance, and while investigating, Bozer is also exposed. Once the plane is safely on the ground, the episode cuts to the hospital scene where they have apparently found an antidote to the poison, and all is well.

Honestly this review will almost entirely be about the heart stuff.

Heart Stuff:

So let’s start with Ben. Our first encounter with his medical situation is when Desi asks Asher if Ben is breathing. Beyond questions about Asher’s safety (which they essentially already know), this is a great first question to ask. Breathing is fairly easy to determine, even for a 10 year old, and gives a substantial amount of information. From that one “yes” they know:

Airway: Even though he is sitting up with his head lolling forward, Ben’s airway is open- thus eliminating the immediate need for Asher to pull his father out of the chair.

Breathing: Ben is moving air between the outside and his lungs. Eliminating the need for Asher to help him with that.

Circulation: We can assume if Ben is breathing, his heart is still beating, which eliminates the need to start CPR immediately.

We don’t know the quality or anything else about his breathing or pulse, but we know they are currently at least minimally sustaining Ben’s life, which gives them some time.

Mac then asks Asher to check Ben’s pulse, instructing him “put your pointer finger and middle finger on the inside of your dad’s wrist, just below his thumb. If you don’t feel anything right away, try moving your fingers around a little bit.” This is exactly how to feel the radial pulse, and especially if Asher had ever learned how to feel a pulse before I think it would be reasonable that he could be able to do it.

At the point when Asher responds “I feel it... kinda”, he has his fingers on the other side of Ben’s wrist. And he may have, indeed, felt a pulse there. The inside of the wrist on the side of the pinky finger also has a feel-able pulse called the ulnar pulse. The ulnar pulse is more difficult to find and a little fainter, but it does exist.

The fact that Asher was able to find a radial or ulnar pulse means that Ben’s circulation is working pretty well- if blood is getting all the way to his wrist, we can assume it’s also getting to his heart, lungs, and brain. I’m not sure I would go so far as to use a 10-year-old’s assessment of “kinda” as an indication of a weak pulse, but for the purposes of the story, we’ll take it.

We also have a small amount of history from Asher that Ben was dizzy before passing out. Probably the most well known reason for a “weak pulse and dizziness”, as Russ concludes, is heart attack, but for a medical professional of any kind, that doesn’t narrow things down- heart attack, stroke, hypoglycemia, dehydration, severe allergic reaction, a hidden injury causing severe internal bleeding, a drug or poison, and many others possibilities could also present that way.

They could have gone a little more in depth with the history, asking Asher for information like whether his father had allergies, was on any medications, whether he had any medical problems like diabetes, and when they had last eaten/used the restroom, as well as any other symptoms his father had mentioned prior to passing out. All of these would have helped narrow down a diagnosis. But for a lay group of rescuers who need to stop a plane from falling out of the sky, all they really need to know is that Ben is unconscious but with ABC’s intact.

Also, shout out to Bozer for doing an AWESOME job at distracting Asher while Mac and Co put together the zipline. He didn’t promise anything he couldn’t deliver, saying “we’re gonna do everything we can” instead of “everything will be okay” when Asher asked. And he just kept the conversation going about things Asher liked that didn’t have to do with the situation. There are very few people who would be that comfortable talking to a kid under stress, and Bozer was really exceptional at it.

Once Mac and Desi get to the plane, Mac brings Ben to the back and is presumably assessing him while Desi, Bozer, Matty, and Russ discuss how and where to land. I wish we could have seen the assessment to have more to talk about, but once the story pans back to him, Mac explains that Ben’s pulse is “low, too low.” I’m not sure if he means low as in his heart rate (number of beats per minute) is low, or low as in weak, but the former makes more sense. Even though we know Ben is moving blood forcefully enough with each beat to get it to his brain, not having enough new blood per minute could still result in his unconsciousness.

Slow heart rate is called bradycardia, and there are a few “ways” to be bradycardic. One is called sinus bradycardia, and is essentially a totally normal, but less frequent, heart beat. Bradycardia can also result from atrial fibrillation, where the top section of the heart has a sort of disorganized, random pattern of beats that don’t all transmit to the lower part of the heart, resulting in only some of the beats going through and a pulse that is both slow and irregular. It can also happen when the part of the heart that determines heart rate, called the sinoatrial node, or SA node, isn’t working correctly.

The only one of these that could possibly be treated by defibrillation is the atrial fibrillation. SA node dysfunction would require a pacemaker or external pacer, and sinus bradycardia would require either atropine (of nerve agent antidote fame) or some form of pacing. Sinus brady is probably the only one that would really come from a poisoning situation (unless anyone else has a poison I’m not thinking of).

Here’s a video of atrial fibrillation getting shocked:

Because of the whole poisoning storyline, I think we have to assume that Ben has sinus bradycardia, which, if you will remember from the paragraph above, is one of the ones we can’t shock.

The way Mac explains defibrillation is as follows: “Human muscles contract and expand based on electrical signals from the nervous system. When those don’t work, we can trick a muscle, like the heart, into getting back into rhythm. That’s exactly what happens with a defibrillator.” And I’m not saying anyone couldn’t build a defibrillator with enough time and experience. But if that’s your understanding of how they work, any defibrillator you make is not one I want to try out.

See, the first sentence of that is almost correct. It’s, like, a 6th grade level of correct, but it’s technically correct. I’m just not at all sure where they got the second sentence, because that is not how anything works at all.

In reality, in order for the heart to beat, each individual heart muscle cell needs to contract in a specific sequence. This is coordinated by an electrical impulse that travels through the heart muscle tissue. When you see an EKG, this is a graphical representation of the path that impulse is taking through the heart.

If the “path” gets messed up, it results in a heart rhythm that may not be able to generate beats that support life.

Defibrillation essentially is passing a massive electrical current through the heart tissue, which overwhelms all electrical activity and causes it to stop momentarily. The hope is that the interruption will break or “convert” the ineffective impulses/paths, and the heart will resume in a normal rhythm. Since sinus brady is technically a correct rhythm (just with too long between beats), the best case scenario for defibrillation is that Ben comes back in exactly the same rhythm... which doesn’t do much for him and wastes time.

I would have been much happier and more impressed with the writers if Mac had instead brought over a Phoenix first aid kit, which would almost certainly have an atropine auto-injector for nerve agent poisonings. It’s still a MacGyverism because the drug would be meant to be used for nerve agent exposure, and it would have stood a much better chance of saving (while also not killing) Ben. 

Since they never name the weird poison that has bradycardia, rash, and partial, temporary paralysis as effects, that works through transdermal exposure, and has a functioning antidote, I’m going to assume they made it up (they... didn’t have to. They could literally have done a beta blocker or calcium channel blocker overdose, they would have just had to change a few easy things omg...).

The Hospital Room:

I do kind of want to talk about that hospital room, because it’s certainly one of the best I’ve seen in MacGyver. The bed is a real hospital bed, the furniture looks like real hospital furniture, that’s a real IV pump and the tubing is set up correctly (though since the tubing is running through it and it’s on but not programmed (screen is blank) yet, it was probably beeping like heck the whole time they were trying to film), the lights are real and there are both red (generator backup) and white (grid power) electrical outlets in the room, there’s even a computer for charting immediately behind Mac and the sheets don’t fit the bed. Like, that’s a surprisingly real (though very uncluttered) hospital room. I’m actually pretty impressed by that.

A few notes on Season 4 so far:

I’ll say it- I personally disliked the fact that they put Mac and Desi together, then ended their relationship badly off screen. I love Desi as a character, and that move felt like it was designed to designate her as a source of trouble for the team instead of as an asset. I also disliked initially that they added Russ as a source of conflict, and deeply worried the writers were going to use him to push Matty out of the show (or at least, have her constantly fighting against him). I also worried that having the Phoenix taken over by a shady private entity who wants an amount of control over their operations would be shown in a positive, instead of conflicted light.

I’m honestly pretty glad this episode straightened some of those worries out. By the end, Mac and Desi were back on good terms, and Matty had asserted her control over the team in tactical decision making. I’m borderline confident that when public-private conflict is addressed from here on, it will be shown in a way the puts the correct weight on “should we worry about continuing to exist, or should we do what’s right?” and show genuine consequences to whatever choice they make. Like, I hope the writers know what they’re getting in to...

R E F E R E N C E S

Beyond the Sea

Bingo fill (interrupted honeymoon) for @cap-ironman

They’re a week out from the wedding when Steve attempts to steal Tony away. They’d originally hired a wedding planner but Tony had taken one look at what they’d put together and declared the man incompetent and has since taken on most of the planning himself, which Steve appreciates as modern weddings- and especially society ones- utterly baffle him. But he does find himself wishing often that Tony hadn’t fired the wedding planner because he’s still Iron Man and still the owner and head of R&D of SI and still so incredibly busy. It’s clear that he’s beyond stressed and starting to run himself ragged. Steve appreciates him taking over the wedding planning but he wishes that Tony would have let him share some of the load. They haven’t planned a honeymoon. Tony and Steve both had desperately wanted a Christmas wedding, only realizing how difficult it would be to get out of New York in the middle of December after they’d already booked the venue. Steve had suggested simply renting a cabin upstate but Tony had quietly said that he’d looked forward to getting to show Steve the world- without a war or a supervillain in the way. Steve, touched by his fiancé’s heart, had kissed him soundly and that was the end of that conversation. But he’s looking at Tony now, with the deep circles under his eyes and the way his hands are shaking slightly as he pencils in who’s RSVPed, and he steps out to make a couple of phone calls. First one’s to a travel agent to see if there’s anywhere in the world they can go to for a few days- “There’s exactly one suite available at Atlantis.” “We’ll take it-” and the second’s to Pepper to see if Tony can have those few days off. “Are you serious?” Pepper asks. “Is that a no?” “Tony’s been working nonstop to make sure he’s ahead in his work so he can spend the next month just with you. He said he’s going to lock you two in the penthouse and only come out if the world’s ending. Of course, he can have a couple days off.” Steve has noticed that Tony hadn’t been around as much but he’d figured he’d just been focused on the wedding. “Thanks, Pepper,” he says warmly. “I owe you one.” “Hmm, I’ll send you my wish list.” Steve laughs, tells her thanks again, and hangs up. He packs a small suitcase for both him and Tony, sends them down to the car, and then goes to collect his fiancé from his lab. Tony’s not even working anymore, just staring blankly at a screen with table arrangements, his stylus hanging from limp fingers. “Hey,” Steve says softly as he bends down to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. Tony doesn’t even startle, he’s so tired. The stylus drops from his hand. Steve catches it before it can hit the floor. He places it on the workbench and gathers Tony up into his arms. “Mrph,” Tony grumbles, pawing at the workbench. “Come on, sweetheart,” Steve says, trying to hide his laugh. “You can do that later.” “Noooo,” Tony whines. “Have to do it now. Mama Rhodes can’t be sitting there. She doesn’t like Hill and I want her to have someone to talk to.” Steve peers at the seating chart. “Honey, she’s not sitting anywhere near Maria.” Tony whips his head around so quickly he nearly falls out of Steve’s arms. “Yes, she is. There!” Tony says triumphantly. “…that says Mark Heil.” “Oh.” Tony looks at it again and then lolls his head back to look at Steve. “I’m tired.” “I know you are,” Steve says sympathetically. “That’s why we’re going on our honeymoon.” Tony narrows his eyes. “We’re what?” “Honeymoon. Early one.” “We can’t go on a honeymoon, Steve. The wedding’s in a week. I have things to do. I have planning to do.” “Nat’s already said she’ll do them.” Tony goes very quiet and Steve knows- he just knows- that Tony’s trying to think of a way to refuse. He won’t though because Nat’s very scary and he won’t want to offend her. Steve tries very hard to keep the smug smile off his face. “Where are we going?” Tony asks after a moment and snuggles deeper into Steve’s chest. “The Bahamas,” Steve says. “A very nice travel agent found us a room at the Atlantis.” “Excellent choice,” Tony says approvingly. “Good weather. Nice beaches. Great view.” He tries to leer at Steve but he’s so tired that he looks vaguely ill instead. Steve says dryly, “Glad you approve.” In retrospect, he’s not sure why he ever thought that he’d actually be able to have a honeymoon with Tony. They’ve no sooner gotten to the airport before both their phones chime with alerts (“Doombots,” Tony says, quicker to grab his phone even while sleepy). The battle lasts nearly six hours and then of course there’s debrief and then a quick trip to medical because Tony had slammed headfirst into a building that turns into a longer trip to medical because Tony slamming headfirst into a building is exactly the right condition for a minor concussion and, by the time they’re both free again, it’s been nearly twelve hours. Their plane’s taken off, the reservation’s nearly over, and when Steve calls the travel agent to ask if their stay could be extended, he’s informed that the room is now booked. He gets off the phone to see Tony looking disappointed but not surprised. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he says quietly. Tony shrugs and says, “Pep texted. There’s been a fire at one of our factories in Washington. I’m going over to take a look.” “I was really looking forward to going to the beach with you.” Tony’s mouth twists sadly. “Yeah, me too. But we’re superheroes. Things happen.” He rises up on tiptoe to kiss Steve’s cheek. “Love you. See you in a few days.” Steve watches him go, sees the dejected slump to his shoulders, and thinks, No. Things are not going to happen this time. Almost before he realizes it, he’s got his phone pulled back out of his pocket and is listening to the phone ring.

Tony comes home two days later, more tired than ever. He’d arrived at the factory in Washington to no deaths but several injuries- and then there’d been the employee claiming that the fire hadn’t been accidental so he’d had to be there during the start of the investigation and that had been exhausting. It had still been ongoing when he’d left but Tony had flatly told them that he couldn’t be there any longer, he was getting married in a few days and he needed to be home. He hadn’t even had the chance to talk to Steve the whole time he’d been there. He’d been too busy to pick up the phone. He’s looking forward to seeing Steve again and getting to sleep in their own bed, maybe steal a couple kisses while he’s at it. Usually, Steve greets him in the lobby when he gets home from a business trip. But he’s not there today. It doesn’t upset Tony too much. Steve had texted him while he was still in the car to tell him to come straight up to the penthouse. He waves a weary hello to the two receptionists downstairs who, for whatever reason, giggle and whisper behind their hands the moment they see him. He ignores their odd behavior and gets in the elevator. “Penthouse, J,” he says. “Of course, Sir, and might I say, welcome back,” JARVIS replies. There’s a short pause and then he adds, “Captain Rogers has asked me to inform you that there is a chair in front of the elevator with a message for you.” The elevator’s mirrored so Tony gets the perfect view of his perplexed face. “A chair?” he mouths silently. True to JARVIS’ word, one of their dining room chairs is waiting in front of the elevator when he steps out. More intriguingly, there’s a note taped to the backrest and a pair of shorts resting on the seat. He picks up the note first. Hi, sweetheart! Hope your trip went well and no one was hurt. Please strip and put these shorts on and then come to the bathroom. Love, Steve Tony glances at the shorts and notices that they’re his swim trunks. He frowns. What is Steve up to? He has the brief thought of just barging into the bathroom to see what Steve’s doing but he finds himself curiouser to know what’s going on so, obligingly, he strips off his suit, careful to drape the shirt and jacket over the coat rack beside the door and folds his pants, setting them on the chair in place of the shorts. He pulls on the shorts and then makes his way into their bedroom. The first thing that goes through his mind is that it’s hot- almost overwhelmingly so, considering he’s in New York in the middle of December. Then his befuddled brain registers the golden light spilling from the bathroom and the sound of- is that waves? “Tony?” Steve calls. “Sweetheart, is that you?” “It’s me,” Tony yells back. Steve pokes his head out from behind the bathroom door. “Come on. I want you to see this.” This is apparently a plank of wood blocking the bathroom from the bedroom because the bathroom floor’s covered in a good two feet of sand. This is hand-painted waves lining the walls. This is golden tissue paper covering the lights so it more closely mimics sunlight. This is seashells strewn across the floor of the room. This is the temperature in the room being raised to 85 degrees and the speakers playing the sounds of the oceans (seagulls, Tony thinks dumbly, I hear seagulls) and the huge sunken tub in the corner filled with what he bets is warm water. This is Steve standing in the middle of the room saying, “I’m sorry I couldn’t take you to the beach; so I brought the beach to you.” Tony stares at it all open-mouthed. “You did this for me?” he asks dumbfoundedly. Steve nods. “Is it okay?” “Is it okay?” Tony repeats. “Steve, this is wonderful.” He stumbles inside, nearly tripping over the plank of wood, and throws his arms around him, pressing kisses to every inch of Steve that he can reach. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” he mumbles against Steve’s chest. Steve’s arms come up to wrap tightly around him and he kisses the top of Tony’s head. “You’re my fella,” he says simply, “and I love you.” “I love you too,” Tony says. He casts another giddy look around the room. “Yeah. I love you too.”

i was tagged by @toast-gh0st to do this 💖 thanks, it was so much fun!! i’m sorry in advance that it got really lengthy, i could rant on about songs i like forever hahaha

rules: list 10 artists you like before answering these questions:

oscar and the wolf

arctic monkeys

the last shadow puppets

the wombats

florence + the machine

spinvis

two door cinema club

beyoncé

placebo

alexandra savior

what was the first song you heard by 6? probably Oostende, put into a moody playlist by a friend (which he shared with me). we were hanging out together, it was late at night, and he was feeling kind of whimsical since his dog had died earlier this week, but we were right in the middle of pride week. the song itself is about a belgian seaside town, though i suspect the town is just used as a vehicle to express the underlying mood of the song. i visited that town once and there’s a really unique glum, but not unfappy feeling in the air. the video was shot there as well on the boulevard.

what is your favourite song by 8? Yoncé/Partition is a fucking masterpiece, don’t try to convince me otherwise. i sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker yoooooo (though drunk in love is a very close second)

what kind of impact has 1 left on your life? omg well, i got to know OATW through another friend and i saw them first at a festival, after which i was instantly bewitched (in between summer 2015 and now i’ve seen them 3 times). hearing his music for the first time presented me to such an insight about feelings and longing it was scary. especially discovering his debut record felt like i’d found the other missing half of my soul, it compliments my personality so well. killer you was the song that tied it all together.

what are your favourite lyrics by 5? “no light, no light in your bright blue eyes / i never knew daylight could be so violent” -- maybe also because i unconsciously relate it to my ex-bff?? she introduced me to this song and once sent me a pic of the lyrics of this song in her handwriting. thinking it’s better to live in the dark used such to be such a mindset. (this lyric took me half an hour to pick ugh)

how many times have you seen 4 live? once, in 2015 with the same friend (and also his boyfriend back then) who introduced me to spinvis! i remember it was a really great party and in the end he stagedived and acquired the setlist that was taped down by murph’s feet hahaha. i’m also gonna see them again in 2 weeks!!

what is your favourite song by 7? Sun, and it will probably always be Sun. but it was the first song i heard and i’ve got some great memories of summer 2013 linked to it. i like that, while it’s upbeat and happy, there’s a gloomy quality underneath that makes it melancholic, though not too deeply sad.

is there any song by 3 that makes you sad?   yeah The Bourne Identity, every time i hear that bitch of a song i just want to weep, both from empathic sadness and from gratitude that this song exists. i mean, the quality level of alex turner’s songwriting is extra-fucking-terrestial. (y’all who know this song probs know why i picked this, but this song is basically about your outer walls cracking and the image you’re holding up shattering. then suddenly people are looking right at the real sombre/insecure you you’ve been trying to hide. only..... worded less cheesy than i just did loll)

what is your favourite song by 9?  i bear an undying love for Every You Every Me, BUT right now it’s Follow The Cops Back Home. that song has got a great sentimental sunset, suspended-in-time feel that i’ve really come to appreciate. the opening lyric for the last chorus is so well done: “the call to arms was never true / i’m medicated, how are you?” i live for that part of the song.

how did you first get into 2? omg don’t get me started. this is basically 6 all over again, except in a more positive setting. i had cooked hamburgers with that friend and afterwards we were lounging on his couch, and he put on Knee Socks. i hadn’t consciously heard AM before and this was the song that started it all hahaha. it took me another 3 years (and the video of ITWYW) to properly get converted though.

how did you get into 10?  because i’m a fan of am/tlsp and thus of alex turner, and then i heard he’d done a collab with her and her songs seemed so interesting and dark i thought it was worth getting into haha. shades was the song that convinced me, even though it’s a bit of an oddball on the album.

i’ll tag @thaknows​ @partynthem​ @citiznerased​, @indescribablenoise​ and @barbarabaardenbarbier​ to do it too (if you wanna, that is)!

Daeul

Preview / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / bonus

Chapter 14

-

Two months passed by quickly after the incident -- two months of police checks and visits, doctor’s appointments and physiotherapy for the young Daeul’s broken leg. Hanji suffered a shot taken on her left arm just before the police officer shot the unknown man in the leg.

Hyuk had taken time off work and allowed Jiho to take over the studio for the time being while he watched over his son and subtly, Hanji.

She stayed home with Minji for a week before realizing how much she had missed the little boy before quickly returning to work. Their days went by calmly and smoothly, meals spent together felt like tag-team -- Hanji struggling with one arm in a cast as she fed herself and Daeul, Hyuk stepping in to help her out and discard his own food.

Missus Chae often helped with Daeul’s baths but when she couldn’t, the boy’s father would offer his help. They sat on stools by the bathtub as they carefully avoided getting water on Daeul’s cast.

They weren’t miserable, however. For once in his son’s life, Hyuk felt he had finally contributed something to him. Perhaps it was Hanji’s words that convinced him.

“How does it feel?”

She wiggled her left fingers playfully in front of Hyuk and Daeul signifying that she was alright after having her brace removed, though a scar still remained on her shoulder. Daeul had his cast removed on the same day but still had to attend therapy in order to avoid a permanent limp.

“Thankfully, I’m not left-handed.”, she joked earning a smile from Hyuk.

They sat on the carpet in Daeul’s playroom as he continued to press leaves into his scrapbook. November had began and Hyuk would turn thirty-one in two days. He planned to return to work after his birthday and spend more time there before the New Year.

“Hanji, we never got to celebrate your birthday.”, he suddenly said.

Turning her attention to him, Hanji widened her eyes slightly. “I-I celebrated with my family…”

“Do you perhaps want to celebrate with us? W-We can have dinner on Sunday night -- celebrate both our birthdays.”, he said with a soft smile, something she began to see on him quite often these days.

Both our birthdays? She didn’t want to take attention from him. Not especially since it was mainly his.

“Let Minji know. I’ll send her the address.”

~

Sitting on the coffee table was a small black paper bag with white gift wrapping tissue peeping out from the inside. Next to it resided a note:

hey, paperdoll :)

this was left outside for you

sis.

Hanji carefully pulled the tissue out and reached inside to pull out a maroon box designed with a silver ribbon wrapping around it. Along its bottom was taped a white card reading,

Hanji,

Many thanks for all that you do for our family.

Happiest 27th birthday.

Kwon Hyuk

She bit her bottom lip playfully as a smile crept upon her face. The familiar writing and name made her feel warm and almost jitty on the inside as she carefully opened the maroon box. She was greeted with a silver necklace -- the simple figure of a circle placed on top of a triangle outlined with small diamonds.

“A doll.”, she whispered as she held the gift closer to her face.

“He asks that you wear it tonight.”, she heard her sister’s familiar voice say from behind her, making her shift her body. Minji stood by the doorway holding up a shopping bag in the air with a slight smirk on her face.

~

“I-I can’t go dressed like this.”

Hanji stared at herself in the mirror, unable to recognize who she was -- dressed in a short-sleeved, deep red, knee high dress, her usual wavy hair now straightened, her pink lips now glossed and the new piece of accessory laying on her chest.

“At-At least get rid of the necklace.”, she pleaded with her sister who immediately frowned.

“Hanji, it’s his present for you. W-What better way of saying thank you than wearing it for him?”, Minji reassured as he played with her hair.

She fiddled with the pendant using her thumb and index finger, pursing her lips as she eyed the black paper bag on her drawer. Shopping for her sister was hard enough, let alone her male employer. What would Kwon Hyuk like? A watch? No, he has enough of those.

Eventually, she just settled for a Maritime jacket she had luckily bought on sale which now seemed embarrassing compared to the necklace.

~

Upon arriving at the restaurant which address Hyuk had texted Minji, she dropped her younger sister off to the front as she sought a parking space. She stepped inside the waiting room as she dusted off her dress and fixed the collar of her olive green trench coat.

“Uh, reservation--”

“For Kwon.”, a deep voice said behind her making her turn around quickly, her eyes laying on none other than Hyuk himself.

He wore dark dress pants, a gray t-shirt covered by a white pinstripe blazer and the familiar pointy shoes which she had been greeted by on her first day of work. His hair was different -- much shorter than before considering his man-bun had been trimmed off, it was black and styled with a side part directing to his left temple.

He radiated a soapy yet manly aroma, something she had gotten used to after all these weeks spent with him.

They smiled softly at one another, almost to wanting to say something but savoured the comfortable silence moments before Minji and surprisingly, Jiho entered the room.

“Happy birthday...you two.”, Jiho spoke almost awkwardly with a childish smile on his face as he patted Hyuk’s shoulder and flashed Hanji a wide grin, which she returned. Minji placed her hand on her sister’s back before directing her to the dining tables where other guests were waiting.

“You look wonderful.”, she heard Hyuk whisper next to her and gave him a quick glance realizing he had been looking straight ahead rather directly at her to avoid any suspicion from the others.

She sat across from him and next to Minji, Daeul sitting with Missus Chae and Jiho across her sister. “I’m glad you’re here, Missus Chae.”, gleed Hanji as the older woman grabbed both her hands softly.

“Well, I can’t let you get caught up with this little one on your birthday night.”, she smiled.

“It’s really Hyuk’s but...Thank you.”, Hanji grinned her eyes turning into crescents.

“The others are feasting at home since they know I won’t be there to tell them off.”, Hyuk joked with a grin on his face as they began to take their seats, making Hanji smile widely at him.

Smiles and laughter was all she was throughout the night -- constantly covering her mouth each time she laughed at an embarrassing story told by Jiho or a follow up joke by Minji. Hyuk mimicked her notions carefully glancing at her in admiration each time she threw her head back and laughed.

At one point when Missus Chae had assisted Daeul to the washroom to get his diaper changed, and Jiho and Minji had been conversing on their own, Hyuk carefully leaned into the space between him and Hanji.

“It looks great on you.”, he spoke softly looking at the necklace laying on her soft milky skin. She grinned shyly as she placed her fingers on her chest, mumbling a soft thank you to him.

“I uh, I got you something too.”, she began as she reached from behind her seat and grabbed the black paper bag and shyly handed it to him.

“I-It’s not much but…”, she trailed off as she watched him reach into it with his eyes wide and his cheekbones high. He pulled out the jacket and unfolded it holding it up in front of him.

Shoot. You should’ve just bought the watch, idiot girl. “You hate it. You hate it -- it-it’s okay, I-I’ll return it next week and I’ll get --”, Hanji began to panic as she leaned over and tried to take away the jacket.

Chuckling, Hyuk began to speak, “Hanji. I-I love it, I really do.”

He wasn’t lying. It was definitely his style -- polyester with different pockets able to zip up rather than button which he always found more convenient. It was something he needed with the chilly autumn weather and afterall, it was a present from Oh Hanji herself.

He smiled at her widely and she him, staring longingly at each other for what seemed like the nth time that evening. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and scream in embarrassment but could only manage to feel the pounding of her heart against her chest.

“Hey, listen. The-The year will end shortly and...I was…”, he said slowly beginning to worry Hanji a little.

“What is it, Hyuk?”, she asked softly.

Inhaling deeply, he continued, “I-I’m taking Daeul on vacation at the end of next month…”

“Will you come?”

~

She stood at the window in their small living room, admiring the skyline and the bright lights in front of her.

You can bring Minji, if that makes you more comfortable.

Let me know.

“Everything okay?”, she heard her sister’s voice say behind her but kept her eyes on the view.

“I uh, I just think I’m beginning to love Daeul…”, Hanji chuckled uncomfortably. She wasn’t lying -- she really did start to warm up to the boy, along with his antics and habits she grew to familiarize herself with.

Minji looked at her sister from behind, sighing softly as she remembered how she and Hyuk had been engaging that evening.

“And what about his father?”, she asked, making Hanji avert her eyes downward unable to respond.

~

Fun Fact #14

Kwon Hyuk has the same birthday as my best friend loll

Good Timez

The blaring music seemed to dissipate to a pleasant buzz the more Stuart drank. Shouted lyrics rumbled through the speakers, lyrics from a forgotten Doors tape that was all but mumbles to his ears. The noticeable bass line that pulsed through the Winnie Keeping him awake as he tried to focus on his moving lips. Murdoc was blatantly aware of Stuart losing focus but none or less loved to hear himself talk, as well as gazing to the no-tooth loser as he nodded to deft words. He gives a smirk to the songbird, rubbing small circles with his finger to gain the other's attention.

“We, ok there faceache?” Murdoc asks, voice hoarse from the night's drinking.

As he starts to pull through his eyes focused on the misshapen nose, why was he so close to Mudz now? He was practically leaning on the older man and they both seemed, comfortable? Glancing to the burning eye he leans over to grab the bottle of tequila at his side, taking a long drain from the neck till he hacks from the burn in his throat.

He can't really remember how he got here and he sort of blames himself. His medications and rum before a shoot(or was it a concert?) don't normally mix, But he can't all complain. Especially since it feels this nice against him.

He kept his hazed eyes on Murdoc as he watched him finish his roach with a quick hit. Flicking it to the ash trash as its own form of incense burner till it eventually dies out. This is good, its soft. Really soft

Did he eat the worm on a dare what's going on?

“Whats with that look?, Fuck your not gonna throw up are you?” He asked with worry, not for him but for himself and his cigarette singed couch.

“Mudz, are you” He makes a gesture with his hand finding himself uneasy to voice the matter “You know, bent?”

“What makes you say that?” he said in that voice all to predator like. He knew that warning tone signified he was treading on serious ground if he didn't play his cards right, and right now he felt like a rabbit having a heart attack.

Fuck it was nice before let's go back.

“Its,, its jus nice. Its really nice right now an- your close.” He rambles drunkenly over his sentences, unaware of the arm around his shoulder pulling him into a kiss till it currently happens.

It surprises him, Its soft with sultry undertone to where the longer it happens the more it feels right. The room starts to blur in colors thanks to the effects of Codeine, taken God knows when, melding together with what looked like multiple shots from the empty glasses across the table. He parts his lips with a groan forgetting the identity of the man in question till he pulls away with the bottle in his hand.

Stuart opens his puzzled eyes, mouth still parted from the irrupt kiss that Murdoc laughs as he takes a swing from the bottle.

“That answer ya question poof?”The Bassists says with a smirk. “I..um,” He says completely ignorant of what was said not even 2 minutes ago.

Murdoc rolls his eyes as he places a hand on the ramblers knee, watching the Singer eye the hand inching up thigh, it was nothing but priceless, and the blush that crept along his face when he whispered took the cake.

“I-...I dont know”

“Ahh eyy, we had a good night tonight yeah?, why not make it better~?”

2D chuckles, reaching a hand to the scruff of his neck as he watched the the pair of lips lag in movement.

“You're drunk” he says softly “And you're on some other level” Murdoc(?) says with a smirk.

Stuart runs his fingers through the black mess of hair, the oily locks feeling like serpent tongue as it wrapped around his fingers

“You're gonna ‘it me inna morning” He slurs with caution observing the blissful look of the other as he tugs lightly at the roots. “Mmnn iim too drunk ‘t care” He finishes, closing the sentence with another kiss as he lowers him down onto the ratted couch.

Everything about this dance was quick. The blur of rushed movements and hitched breath made Stuart dizzy as they fumbled around for friction. They paid no mind to the ended tape rewinding back as moans started to fill in its place of silence. He couldn't get enough of the tongue that melted in his mouth, as he squeezed him closer with his tangled legs.

His hands were hot, boiling. It made him sweat against his goosebump flesh and Murdoc thought it fun so see him squirm under light scrapes of his nails, He soothed the skin as a form of apology.

A demon, is what he sees as Murdoc breaks the kiss. His horns(or was it just hair) stood proud as he he makes a show of tossing his shirt to an uncharted map of the place, claws taking place as it pushed up the hem of his tee, kisses from a tongue slowly creeping up.

He felt small despite the lanky limbs dangling off the side. He thinks to himself as Murdoc eyes became the only thing visible, he can't see him, he can't see the room.

“Mud...z. Mudz i” “I turned off the lamp nitwit” “Jesus fuck” He says with relief “Cute” He says with a laugh as he smooths his hand across a small patch of chest hair. “Everything matches hu?” he states rhetorically as he messes with the sensitive bud between his fingers, Drinking in the pleasured mewls to the tripping mess beneath him.

Oh he’ll give him a good time.

The older male tweaks both as he watches Stuart do nothing but bite back the falling noises from his lips. Wanting nothing more then to fuck his throat as Stuart decides to rake his fumbling fingers along the hair of his happy trail.

“Treading lower hu?” ‘Lemme-” Stuart loses his sentence as he grabs for his belt yelping a loud moan as hands grip his hips to pull him flushly against himself. He gives a few teasing thrusts with equal hazed eyes as his tongue starts to lolle. “uh-uhh, let's give a little guess before revealing the goods luv” He says with a pleased sigh, getting a good feel of the growth happening underneath. “Good boy~”

Stuart scrabbles for his belt, yanking him closer to pull him down once more for a kiss. Murdoc denies his request and instead goes for the neck, giving a rough bite as he ruts against the chirping song bird.

Why hasn't this started sooner and other variations were the only inebriated thoughts rushing through the Bassists head. Moaning as he licked the bruising mark starting to form on his ghostly skin. He’s as beautiful as the day he hit him with his car,he tells himself. A tall no eyed God that was fit for the decaying man he called himself. He couldn't help picture bruises covering every form of his body. The chest, his legs, neck anywhere his mouth could reach.

And as he undid the belt he didn't see why not.

A Night on the ‘Town

I can still pinpoint the exact moment I really got into beer. It was 2005, winter, and I was looking for something to do with a group of friends, when we wandered into a seasonal beer festival organised by CAMRA and Cambridge RAG. I still remember every sound and image from that evening - the fug of steam after walking in from the cold drizzle, the hiss of waxed jackets from the heaving crowd, and the vermilion slop of chilli being ladled onto baked potatoes the size of my fist. Then there were the beers. Row upon row of metal casks, arranged around the hall, with strange, evocative names taped to the front in clear plastic wallets. I was so stunned, I even called my dad to tell him where him was, as if still seeking approval or praise. Then I proceeded to order halves of every strong stout they had and got crushingly, irredeemably drunk.

Things haven’t changed that much, if the Beavertown Extravaganza is anything to go by. At least, they haven’t changed for me - 12 years, several jobs, one wife and child later, and I’m still over-ordering strong stouts and ruining the next morning. In every other sense, things have changed massively, and the Extravaganza - #BeaverEx17 as the hashtag had it - is the perfect way to record and chart just how far things have come for beer in the UK.

I missed the Friday session and resigned myself to watching on Twitter, never a fun way to experience any major event, whether a football game or a terrorist atrocity. I watched complaints crop up - running out of beer, excessive lines - and resigned myself to spending a Saturday being mildly disappointed. But I still got there 30 minutes before it even opened, because I wanted to believe.

I was right to. After we got in to the Printworks, a huge industrial space a few hops on the Overground from Beer and Present Danger HQ, we were ushered into a cavernous holding space where we picked up an adorably lilliputian glass, and were faced with two choices - go left, and enjoy one of the many food trucks, or go right, and get in line for two hours before being let in to the bars.

We chose the queue. We were right at the front, while the crowd swelled and jostled behind us, with lines of sight and time to formulate a plan of attack. Dart left to line up up at Other Half for quick hit of juicy Double Citra Daydream, then swerve across the hall to Omnipollo for a pour of the viscous, almost unbearably sweet Yellow Belly Sundae. Then a quick scurry to the second room to grab anything Three Floyds were serving, before Trillium, before Cigar City, before, before, before, before… We felt the hordes mass behind us. The security staff warned us to walk, not run, to our chosen stands. The clock ticked closer to 1pm. The atmosphere was electric, There was movement from the guards and suddenly we were loosed - straight into another queue.

Yeah, so it turned out that they’d second guessed our super keen rampage, and we’d have to wait another 15 minutes while the crowds filed in and queues built at all the stands. There would be no optimised Supermarket Sweep style speed dash for us. But as it turned out, that didn’t particularly matter.

Throughout the day, we queued for several of the most sought-after breweries, and even if they seemed daunting, the queues never seemed to last for longer than 15 minutes at a time. And frankly, that was time well spent, because I needed some buffer between the incredible brews that were on offer, especially given my preferences (I mentioned the strong stout thing, right?) I got my Yellow Belly Sundae, as rich and unctuous as a peanut butter caramel brownie. I got my Cigar City Hunahpu’s, the rare imperial stout out of Tampa that was a deep and raisin-wrinkled treat. I got Three Floyds Dark Lord de Muerte, one of the rarest beers in the world, that smelt of Marmite and tasted of just about everything. Oh, and Trillium Affogato (pure espresso), Firestone Walker Parabajava (sherry and fruitcake), Dugges Speyside Cacao (the name says it all), Alesong Bailey’s Joy (the name doesn’t begin to cover it), and many, many more. 100ml pours were more than enough. When you’re using DIPAs to cleanse your palate, you know something is either going really right, or really wrong.

The whole day was a wonderful, slightly hallucinatory affair - after we’d done a lap or two, the scale of it unfolded and we realised this was as close to being trapped in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory as we were ever likely to get. It was beer Comic Con, minus people cosplaying as Saint Gambrinus or Tim Martin. It was beer Glastonbury, without the mud. Even the toilets were nice - no signs of amateur brewers hanging out in the cubicles doing lines of purest lupulin powder off the top of the cistern.

It wasn’t perfect of course - given the ambition and the fact it was the inaugural event, there were bound to be teething issues, though these seemed to be as a result of the punters as much as the organisers. There was a lot of “Oh hey, how’s it going!” queue jumping when a particularly good keg came on, and it seemed that more than a few people had helped themselves to more than one glass at the beginning in order to double up their intake. And by the end of the day, quite a few gentlemen (and it was always the gentlemen) could be seen looking slightly tired and emotional, head lolling over a bench. I couldn’t find any bottled water and had to keep heading outside to get sips from the enormous tanks, and, the biggest issue, which I’m sure will upset many people, was that the beer really did mostly run out almost an hour before it finished, with bars switching to Gamma Ray and Neck Oil if they offered anything at all. But by that time, it was hard to bring yourself to care - if you hadn’t had enough, you hadn’t tried hard enough.

Oh, and there was no wine for the wives. But that’s another issue.

On the whole, the day felt like a huge success, and given what I’d pay for even a sniff of each of the individual beers I had, the ticket price was incredible value. It also felt like a real special moment, an accumulation of people and moods that shone with positivity and possibility. Here we were in south London, next door to a Decathlon, with some of the best beers in the world, and people like Sierra Nevada’s Steve Grossman pouring them himself. In a few weeks, I’m sure half the breweries there will reveal the collaborations that were dreamt up when all these people got together to make beautiful, boozy babies.

I didn’t even have time to see more than 10 minutes of impressive-sounding seminars, or pay more than a passing visit to the gallery of label art. I did get to sit on the bus, however. That was good.

12 years since my first beer festival, and they still leave me reeling. Maybe I should stick to the session ales next time.

Fake It

Pairing: Cjamm/You

Summary: Your best-friend asks you to fake a sex tape with him. What could possibly go wrong?

Content: Relatively SFW

Word Count: 2,496

Notes: Writing this may or may not have helped me get over a bit of a block with TDL. <;

"All I'm asking is for you to pretend."

It was absolutely ridiculous. The most incredulous idea you had ever heard. You would never - could never - even pretend. It made your self-esteem shrivel just thinking about it. Goosebumps prickled the fine hairs on your forearms. Not knowing whether the hit the infuriating man in front of you or vomit out of disgust had you staring at him in silent shock.

"All it would take would be a little clip," Ryu Sungmin said smoothly - breaking the silence and causing your heart to pick up speed. A little clip would even be too much. The thought of it alone was too much.

"You have been listening to Fucknut for far too long." It had to have been his insane labelmate that had put the idea into his head. There was no other explanation.

"Maybe, but it could help both of us. You've fallen off the face of the earth as far as the media is concerned and I need something to boost the PR on my next album. It's a win-win," he coerced, leaning across the table in excitement as you sipped on your cheap cup of Joe.

"I feel like that type of PR wouldn't exactly be good for either of us," you scolded. The entire nation would have their pitchforks at the ready. There was no way in hell what he was suggesting could possibly be beneficial in any way.

"As long as it gives everyone a reason to talk, I don't see how it could be bad."

"No! No!  No!" Your raised voice had a few other eyes in the coffee shop turning towards the two of you, but you didn't care. The entire situation was ridiculous. Sungmin was crazy, absolutely crazy, and you wanted no part in his half-baked scheme. You finished your cup of coffee before standing to make an abrupt exit, eager to get away from the insanity.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, grabbing your hand before you could make it too far from the table. "Do you want to be known as a one-hit wonder for the rest of your life?"

His words immediately struck a cord. You had been making music in South Korea's underground hip-hop scene for a few years now. It was about a year into your career you released the single that had blown up the internet and made you a hot item for all of a month. After that, your name had fallen back into obscurity just as quick. Since you refused to participate in any reality shows like the sellout that was Sungmin, it had stayed that way. Everyone knew the name of the song, but the had easily forgotten the name and the face of the person behind it. It hurt your ego more than you cared to admit.

"At least I didn't sell out only to live in Byungyoon's shadow!" Just like he had touched a sore spot, you knew you had to from the murderous look that graced his admittedly handsome features. His eyebrows knitted together and his grip on your hand tightened. At this point the two of you had attracted even more eyes, all of them curious about the interaction and no doubt even more so when they realized who the man you were arguing with was.

"I'm just going to take that as a joke," he said lightly, his normal cockiness coming back to him easily. You should have known better, Sungmin was too full of himself to let anything anyone said do too much damage. "But I wasn't joking. This could change your career."

You grunted in response, and pulled him up from his chair and outside into the bustle of the city. Evading prying eyes was much easier amongst the throngs of people. When you were safe and blending in with the passersby, you rounded on him. "Are you really so full of yourself that you think faking a sex tape with you would the epitome of my career? You're not that great."

"But I am that great," he retorted with a waggle of his neat eyebrows. "And it would. You don't have a label, you don't even have a crew but this could change all of that."

"Yeah right. I bet it could even land me a date with Lee Dongwook too, huh?" Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. How had you even become this lunatics friend in the first place?

"No, but I'm more amazing than him away," he replied with a wink.

"No!" You replied one last time before shaking free of his hand. "I have to go, douche-canoe. Tell Daewoong I'm going to fight him for this." You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels.

As Sungmin watched your retreating figure, hips swaying with sass and confidence, he couldn't help but smirk. You were stubborn as hell and usually took shit from no one but there was one person in the world who could sway you. Sungmin knew it wouldn't be long before you cracked.

"Shitbreak! Bring me another beer," you crooned the swear out as sweetly as one could. Your legs were curled under you and wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket as your head lolled lazily against the backrest of Sungmin's sofa. Something was on the television, some late night drama that you didn't care much for. You were more focused on your phone that was clasped tightly in your hands and hidden along with your legs.

The call should have come already. It was already so late, almost midnight, but you couldn't stop the shred of hope that still remained in your heart. The music industry just worked on a different time schedule than mere mortals, right? There was still hope. Brand New Music could be giving you a call anytime soon to welcome you into their roster. Deep down you knew it wasn't true despite your forced optimism. They didn't want you. It was the same story all over again.

"Sungmin!" You half groaned-half yelled in the direction of his kitchen. Was he brewing the beer himself or something? The idiot had been gone for a minute. It was just like Sungmin. When you actually needed his excellent distraction skills he was nowhere to be found. You sighed loudly, hoping the bastard somehow heard wherever he had gone to, and sunk deeper into the couch in misery.

Sungmin, on the other hand, was up to no good. He chuckled to himself lightly as he made his back to his living room. He found you still moping in the exact spot he had left you. He did his best to put on the innocent charm as much as he could as he approached you.

You looked miserable, and he knew you were putting all your happiness on the line yet again for another label that just wouldn't work. It made him angry, at you for getting your hopes up but more so at all the labels that wouldn't even give you a chance. They were all scared of you. A one hit wonder with a unique sound wouldn't be easy to market, Sungmin knew that, but you deserved the chance. You were passionate and more talented than you gave yourself credit for, and the one thing he hated most in the world is how you always sold yourself short.

If only you would hurry up and realize that his plan could be the answer. Many celebrities had done it only to have their careers take off. It was worth the chance.

"Sungmin..." You drawled cautiously as you watched him nonchalantly approach you. You weren't easy to fool and you immediately noticed the mischievous glint in his gaze. You glared at him suspiciously as his dark eyes beamed excitedly back at you.

"Have you thought about it," he questioned, flopping down on the couch next to you.

Your glare intensified. "No. I don't need to think about it. It's a stupid idea."

"Come on, Y/N," he whined with a cuteness that he didn't use often. That was definitely not good for you. Sungmin was always the bad ass "I don't give a shit" rapper. It was rare he made any move to appear cute unless he wanted something from you. It always worked, but you couldn't let it this time.

"No," you said firmly. You had to focus on not smiling as he leaned his head on your shoulder and looked up at you through his lashes with a pout on his face. You would never admit it, but sometimes just looking at him made your heart do somersaults. Sungmin was a lot more handsome than even his immense gave himself credit for. "Stop it," you grumbled halfheartedly, attempting to push him off.

He batted his lashes at you and flashed you a smirk that made you want to knock his cocky ass down a notch. "Fine, One Hit Wonder."

Immediately your mood soured. If only looks could kill, Sungmin would have been on the ground already. "Take it back!"

"No!" His laugh was hearty as you grabbed at him with balled fist. You were angry, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he dodged your attempts and abandoned the couch to take off down the hall.

"Shitbreak!" You yelled at his back, discarding the comfort of your blanket to follow him. "Get back he-" you words fell short as you entered his bedroom. A video recorder was propped on his dresser and Sungmin sat expectantly on his bed. You wanted to kill him, but his commitment to his stupid plan had you flabbergasted.

"So..." He patted the bed next to him. "How about it?"

"You really are serious...!" You couldn't help the shock on your face or in your voice. You thought he would eventually just give up, but now he had put you on the spot.

"Of course I am. This could help you," he said, voice utterly serious for once. "And me."

"This is crazy!" You exclaimed in exasperation. There was no way this stupid plan could turn out well for either of you. "You know how conservative some people are. This could ruin both of us. Especially me! Fucking double standards and all that noise."

"I thought about that," he interjected your rambling with a calm that you didn't know how he could feel when he was sprouting crazy half-baked schemes. "We give them just enough to guess. No one ever has to really know for sure it's you."

You shook your head, about ready to just walk out. Would you really risk everything for the chance? Even as you questioned yourself silently, there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind that was rubbing in the fact that you really didn't have anything to loose. You had nothing. No crews or record labels wanted you. You even worked two jobs in an effort to just survive.

No! You screamed at yourself internally. It would never work. It couldn't make anything better.

"Okay," the word came out of your lips despite your brain telling you differently. You had finally flipped your lid, that was it. Apparently crazy was contiguous.

Sungmin's seriousness had suddenly vanished. He was beaming at you as he stood and crossed the room to the recorder. When his finger hovered over the button, he paused and looked back at you. You still stood rooted to the floor. "We don't have to go too far. Just a little clip: enough to look realistic."

"We are both insane", you mumbled in reply. It simply caused his smile to deepen as he pressed the record button and resumed his place on the bed. He motioned you toward. Your feet moved of their own accord as you shuffled forward. Even as it was it happening, your brain stayed firmly in denial.

When you stood right in front of Sungmin, he reached out to you and grabbed your arms to drag you forward until you were wedged snugly between his legs. "Keep your back to the camera", he whispered in your ear. His breath was warm, and his words were soft. You trusted Sungmin no matter how much the two of you bickered. He would never cause anything bad to happen to you, right?

He dropped your arms only for his rough hands to fall down your sides and lightly play with the hem of your shirt. You knew this was not the time or place, but the feeling of skin brushing against yours as he lifted your shirt over your head had all the blood in your body rushing downwards.

Calm down,  y/n!  It's just a natural reaction, you scolded yourself silently.

You felt the chill of the room caressing your every exposed curve as Sungmin glanced up at you. He was still smirking, his handsome features beaming up at you as he reached up to cup your face. A calloused thumb gently caressed your cheek before he was bringing your face down to his. Your eyes closed instinctively as his lips covered yours.

We're just friends. It's only natural, you repeated the mantra silently as your head swam with Sungmin. His scent surrounded you, natural yet scented lightly with a vague Cologne. The smell was familiar - he wore it all the time - but it never had your knees going weak as you involuntarily reached up to trace the stubble along his jaw. Even a single twisted piece of hair rubbing against your forehead had your body acting up in ways it shouldn't be.

Despite yourself, your tongue traced along his lips - seeking access that he granted willingly. You ended up fighting for dominance, nipping at his lower lip lightly with your teeth as your arms wrapped around his neck. You pulled him deeper into the kiss - your common sense suddenly out the window as you lost yourself in the feeling of your handsome best friend's soft lips.

Sungmin's hand fell to hips as he broke the kiss. You gasped for air, your breath coming out in little pants of repression as you felt his breath on your stomach. He left a barely there kiss right below your heaving covered breasts. You could literally feel the assholes cocky smirk against your skin as your soft pants filled his bedroom.

"That's all we need." His words should have broken whatever spell had made you momentarily loose your mind, but it didn't. As you looked down at Sungmin, his handsome features grinning up at you like the overly arrogant asshole he had the tendency to be, you knew you were in trouble - in more ways than one.

have u ever wanted to read a yuri on ice au for characters u’ve never met

In his quiet room, the pounding of Peter’s heart was like a drum. His breathing was heavy, uneven. He felt like crying, but his body didn’t seem to want to go through with it. In his chest were a jumble of emotions that he was well accustomed to but, even after years and years of them boasting their claim on him, unable to sort through.

He’d competed in the Grand Prix Final last year, but now he was nervous for a domestic block championship? He was pathetic. He didn’t deserve to win tomorrow. He had no idea why Colin was even here.

Colin Dehills. In Peter’s house. Coaching Peter.

Peter could never live up to Colin’s standards, that much was a guarantee. Sooner or later, it would be one failure too many, and Colin would realize what a waste of time this all was. Right now, he was enchanted with the idea of surprising the audience by leaving without really leaving, but that too would wear off soon. Peter didn’t know which he was doing more--dreading it or anticipating it.

It had been an hour since Peter was supposed to be asleep, more than that since he had shut himself in his room and turned off all the lights. He needed to sleep if he wanted to perform well tomorrow, but it was precisely the anxiety at the thought of not falling asleep that was keeping him awake. He tried to shut his eyes and think of nothing, but his mind always routed him back to a failure on the rink, a news article proclaiming disappointment in him.

Eleventh last year. Colin had probably never come eleventh in his life. He was too graceful on the ice, too skilled. A paradigm. In most other matters, he was bumbling and foreign, but the second he put on skates, all eyes were on him. He’d made an audience of war heroes cry while performing at an In Memoriam service six months prior. Watching Colin was like leaving your body behind and being caught on the wind. It was so right. There was no match more perfect than Colin Dehills and figure skating. No one begrudged him his five consecutive Grand Prix wins. It was an honor to watch him win. Really, the only competition was to see who would get the other two spaces on the podium.

And now Peter was habitually watching him eat pork cutlets bowls in pajamas, taking joint baths with him in the hot springs, scolding him for finishing the cereal but putting back the empty box.

How did I get here? Really, how did I get here?

Peter tried twisting in bed, turning the pillow over, but it was no use. He was wide awake and still on the verge of tears with no release discernible on the horizon.

He reached over the side of the bed and retrieved his phone. Maybe he could numb his mind by playing a game until he fell asleep. For a while he sat there, swiping the screen, making little to no progress, only feeling worse. At last, he dropped his phone on the mattress and buried his stinging eyes into his pillow. Maybe he could just not show up tomorrow. If he vomited, Colin wouldn’t blame him for dropping out, surely.

Peter opened his eyes. His blank phone screen cast a light over the places where tape had ripped up his ceiling and wall. He hadn’t been very careful taking all those posters of Colin down. He had even ripped one of them. Now, they hid at the bottom of his locked desk drawer, underneath a photo album of baby pictures and several Dehills brand skating shirts.

…

...What was Colin doing here?

Really. Why had he come? Peter had nothing that screamed promise, no special skills. His quads were a laughingstock. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he’d had a flawless performance--and even then, he rarely placed first. Colin Dehills was the kind of skater to take risks, and Peter Saint was very much not.

His phone screen dulled slightly, a warning that it was about to auto-lock. Peter frowned and grabbed it before it could, but he didn’t care about saving his miserable game. He wanted to see how Ramona was doing. She was with her family, visiting relatives in Spain, several hours ahead of him. For the past few days, she had been posting pictures of the sunrise on Instagram. Maybe she would be awake already.

Peter checked, but his feed was dead. He didn’t follow very many people. There were only a few new posts. No Ramona.

…

...What sort of things had Colin been posting recently? Peter had been mostly staying offline in an attempt to avoid seeing his name alongside Colin’s in headlines.

The most recent photo Colin had posted was only 37 minutes ago. He was snuggled in bed, the picture captioned underneath with: turning in before the season officially starts. wish us luck!!! #beautysleep

Peter scrolled past it. He didn’t want to think about all of Colin’s faith in him, a tiny animal exposing its belly to the claws of a vicious beast. Colin’s perceptions of Peter were going to shatter like windows in a storm tomorrow. After that, Peter could say goodbye to his career.

There was no way he could live up to the programs Colin had choreographed for him. He’d already shown his true colors as an underachiever. People weren’t going to believe he could suddenly switch sides now, tap out his lackluster potential for actual talent. Or, if he did, they would accredit all of his success to Colin.

Stop it. That’s enough. Snap out of it.

Peter didn’t know how to stop. He scrolled back up and stared at the picture of Colin, smiling for the camera, giving a thumbs up. He stared at the picture, knowing what he wanted to do but not quite brave enough to commit.

Just do it already. You’ve had enough of being scared tonight.

As if a ghost took over his hand, Peter watched himself exit Instagram and find his messages. He selected his conversation with Colin and tapped out a simple message: Are you awake?

There. At least he had tried. And if Colin was asleep, then that was-

Ding!

Yes! Do you need something?

Of course. Of course Colin was still awake. Why wouldn’t he be? Now Peter had to lie in the bed he’d made. He shut his eyes and pulled up the same daring he used just before he went to perform a jump in competition.

Will you come in here? I can’t stop thinking.

Read 11:13pm.

Peter heard the squeak of Colin’s noisy door down the hall. He sat up in bed, pulled his blanket closer around him. His door opened, and Colin slid inside.

“Peter?” Colin’s voice was quieter than usual because of how late it was. Peter shut off his phone.

“Hi,” Peter said. Colin took this as permission to come inside and scooted the rest of the way in, shutting the door behind him and inviting himself to Peter’s bed. Peter pulled his legs up to make room for him.

Colin asked, “What’s up? Is everything okay? How are you feeling?”

Oddly enough, now that Colin was here, Peter’s mind finally decided to quiet down. It was no secret that he was attracted to Colin--his entire bedroom had been a shrine to the guy since he was a kid. And Colin always seemed excited beyond logic by the idea of sleeping in Peter’s room. Maybe tonight, the last night they would be together, it wasn’t such a bad idea. How many others could say they’d slept in the same bed as Colin Dehills?

“I’m… tired,” Peter admitted, his mouth filter all but dissolved from lack of sleep. Colin had gotten him up at half past five that morning to get to the rink for practice. “Will you stay in here tonight?”

Colin’s entire body stayed exactly the same, faultlessly, but somehow managed to also sharpen around the edges. His eyes were taken over by a manic glint. He brought his fist to his mouth. “Of course,” he whispered, apparently incredibly moved. Peter was too exhausted to question it. Now that his mind had shut up, fatigue was settling in nicely.

Peter scooted over in his tiny bed, trying to give Colin enough room to be comfortable. He had already accepted the fact that there was no way for this to work without them being pressed against each other in some capacity all night. Colin nearly dislocated his shoulder in his attempt to claim his spot in bed.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement. “Do you want to talk?”

Peter shrugged languorously. His pillow was so soft. “In all honesty, it’s probably sleep deprivation,” he said, “but I couldn’t fall asleep before, and now it’s all I want to do, so that must mean we’re doing something right.”

Colin looked quietly ecstatic. So far he was lying parallel to the wall, wary of touching Peter without his permission. Noticing this, Peter said, “You can come closer, you know.”

It was like watching firework after firework light up in Colin’s face. He squirmed under the blankets and wiggled closer. “You know, I’ll have to put my arm around you, I think.”

Peter yawned. “That’s fine.”

His eyes were closed that time, so he didn’t see Colin’s reaction. He sunk farther into the mattress, though, as he felt Colin’s arm close around his middle. Peter’s bed had never been this kind of warm before.

“I don’t know why I get so freaked out,” Peter confessed, words drowning in fatigue. His voice was a little deeper than normal, but also quieter. It hit his ears harder in the dark. His head lolled toward Colin’s chest, seemingly of its own accord. That was okay. It seemed like a nice place to be. “Failure isn’t anything new to me. I rarely win anything. I think I just don’t want you to be wasting your time here.”

Peter rarely talked about himself, and Colin knew it. Getting an insight into Peter’s mind was the most vulnerable way Peter could present himself.

“I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time here,” Colin said, softly but emphatically. “I chose to coach you, Peter. I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t want to, and especially not if I didn’t believe you had a really good chance at winning the Final.”

In the middle of the night, Peter could almost believe him.

Peter had no way of replying to that, so instead he said, “I’m sorry for how you’re going to see me tomorrow. And, I guess, how you’re seeing me now. I always get so nervous right before a competition.”

Colin snorted. “It is not a bother, Peter.”

Peter turned so that he was fully cuddled into Colin’s chest. He was falling asleep between every inhale and exhale. “The truth is, I worry that I’ll let you down. I know I will eventually. I’ll be sorry for it, when it happens.”

“Stop it,” Colin tutted. “If you talk that way, you’ll only lose your focus. Is this how you normally behave toward competitions? No wonder you’ve been holding yourself back. At least this is teaching me how to coach you better. You’re hardest on yourself, which means I need to be easier on you and guide you more smoothly. Of course, don’t think ‘going easy’ means I’m going to let you slack. Your quad flip is still appalling, frankly speaking, and during your free skate program you always get sloppy just before the second half. I’m going to be watching for that tomorrow, and if I see you looking tired-”

“I never thought I would have to worry about you watching,” Peter blurted. He could hear Colin’s sporadic heartbeat.

There was a second of confused silence. “I watched you during the Final last year,” Colin pointed out.

There was a second second of confused silence. Peter was dragged a little bit farther out of sleep. “You did?” he asked. “I thought you would have been off--I don’t know--somewhere else. With Antoinette or Roux.”

“I watched you,” Colin said firmly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re going to watch me tomorrow.”

“Of course I am, Peter. I love to watch you skate. You’re beautiful on the ice.”

In the daylight, that would have made Peter blush and gawk at Colin. Here, it glanced off the shell of exhaustion slowly encompassing Peter. He wanted to take advantage of the moment and fall asleep, but he didn’t want to pass up one of the last real conversations he was likely to have with Colin. After tomorrow, Peter would be spurned from the ice skating world for good.

“Please watch,” Peter found himself saying. “I skate better when I want to impress you.”

Peter felt the room’s atmosphere shift. “Oh, really?” There was a grin audible in the purr of Colin’s voice. “In that case, I’ll be watching closely tomorrow. And I want you to seduce me with all the Eros you’ve got. Are we clear on that?”

Peter nodded. He was seconds away from passing out. He could feel himself floating away, picturing curves cut into the ice and the roar of a stadium filled to bursting. He didn’t want these days to end just yet. “I’ll skate my Eros just for you.”

And then he was out. He didn’t hear Colin say, “Try to keep your promise this time, Peter. I feel like a total idiot for chasing you out here just to be ignored by you all the time. And then we go and have conversations like this, and I totally second-guess myself on everything because of the things you say to me. Oh, you’re asleep. That’s just great. Of course. Well... Goodnight, I guess.”

Of Wolf and Man, part 1

The mage took off down the dark alley. Apparently the meaning of the term 'freeze' was lost to this guy. Then again, I guess that if you’re a homicidal maniac who killed four people with dark magic you’re not going to be intimidated by a puny human cop. That’s alright, he wouldn’t be the first Dark Sorcerer™ I’d put behind bars.   I gave chase, following his fluttering deep-purple robes through the meandrous alleyways. He veered off to the right and I followed, barely able to throw myself backwards when a nasty looking spell exploded into a shower of purple sparks on the wall opposite of me, right where I’d been a moment before. It sizzled and popped as a portion of the wall was eaten away. The guy didn't even look back, just kept running. Alright then. “This is Harper, I’ve got eyes on the suspect,” I spoke into my enchanted headset. “He's heading towards Greenstreet. Be careful, he's slinging spells.” “Understood,” Detective Grey’s gruff voice answered. “You be careful too, T.J.” My partner Violet warned. I grinned even though they couldn’t see it. “Aren’t I always?” The answering huff of laughter could have been from any of them, really. The mage made a hard right into a different alley and I pulled my gun as I picked up speed. “Last chance, Deoradhan,” I yelled as I caught sight of him again, long robes flapping dramatically. “Stop, or I’ll be forced to open fire.” Instead of stopping he flung another spell at me. It went wide and sent a dumpster flying. I aimed at a wall on his left and released a warning shot. Deoradhan ducked and flinched, but kept running. Fine, the hard way then. The next shot I aimed for his legs, hoping to take him down. The bullet ricocheted off of an invisible forcefield around the mage and embedded itself into the brick wall. Acid and apples, the bastard was shielding. I could keep firing, hoping to wear him out by forcing him to expend his magic, but who knew where the bullets would ricochet to. No, I’d have better luck tackling him to bring him down physically. Usually when mages shield for high-velocity projectiles they can’t withstand the slow-moving mass of a humanoid body barreling through. Besides, between the shield and the spells, he was losing energy already. He was slowing down. Holstering my gun, I sped up, making sure I was almost on him before I reached towards his collar. I’d hoped to drag him down, or at least introduce his face to a wall, but he ducked out of the way just before I could grab him. My hand tingled from where it had reached through his shields. We rounded another corner, the mage staggering as he took the corner too wide. I took a sprint and jumped the guy, working him towards the ground. We hit the floor with a thud, forcing the air out of his lungs. I sat up on his legs and grabbed his left wrist, reaching for my ‘cuffs with my right. “Myrrdin Deoradhan, you’re under arrest for the murders of Jane Porter, Sage Wintergreen, Drayce Andvari and Eirlys Deoradhan,” I clicked the first ‘cuff around his wrist, “you have the right –“ I didn’t get any further. He reached for something around his neck. I made a desperate grab for his arm but was too slow. A wall of force slammed into my chest and sent me flying through the dark alley. My breath was punched out of me and my head hit the ground. Hard. Everything went dark and blurry for a moment. When I snapped back to reality Deoradhan was standing over me, wand raised and aimed at my head. He looked intimidating against the dark sky, his robed form backlit by the streetlights. My heart skipped a beat as I realised that this was it, I wasn’t going to make it out of this one. He never said a word, just grinned like the psycho he was and channelled his magic through the wand, the tip glowing a sickish green hue. The wand was too close to my face, I couldn’t duck out of the way and I knew that as soon as I moved, he’d let the spell fly that would undoubtedly melt my face off. I refused to beg. In fact, I refused to speak at all. This was a maniac that murdered four people, one of them his own mother. He cocked his eyebrow at me, as if daring me to say anything. I glared up at him, pressing my lips into a thin line. Nothing I said or did was going to stop him. We stared at each other for a long moment. His grin widened and he shrugged with one shoulder as if to say that it didn’t matter to him if I talked or not. That killing me didn’t matter to him.   I got ready to move, whether to try and sweep his feet out from under him when he was distracted or whether to at least try and roll out of the way, I didn’t know. But I wouldn’t just lay down and die. He opened his mouth to start to spell and I started rising up to do something when a dark form jumped Deoradhan, dragging him away from me. There was a sickening crack of bone breaking followed by a cut off human scream, probably Deoradhan. I got to my feet, the world swaying underneath me for a moment, and looked over to see Deoradhan on his back on the ground, a huge grey wolf sitting on his chest, teeth at his throat. The mage was begging now, “No, no, no, please don’t let that thing bite me. I don’t wanna die!” He cut off with a choked sound, the wolf, well, werewolf really, putting a bit more pressure, but not biting down. I staggered over to the pair and dropped to my knees beside them. “Like I said,” I started, yanking off his amulets when the ‘wolf moved out of my way. He sat back on his haunches on the mage’s chest, his tail thumping twice. “Myrddin Deoradhan, you’re under arrest.” The rest of the arrest went smoothly. The ‘wolf moved out of the way and helped me roll Deoradhan over to his stomach. I cuffed him and took some time removing anything that looked remotely magical to me. I staggered over to the wall and sat back to wait until the other officers arrived. The ‘wolf climbed on the mage’s back again and sat back down, growling low in his throat every time he so much as twitched. “Hey,” I told the ‘wolf, otherwise known as Detective Wilder Grey, “thanks for the save.” He thumped his tail twice again, tongue lolling out of his mouth. It still looked weird, this huge, dangerous creature behaving like your average neighbourhood dog. Especially when they were just as intelligent in their wolf form as they were when human. Grey got up, still standing on our perp, and nosed the side of my head, whining softly. I ran my hand through my hair, wincing as I touched the spot where I hit it on the street. My fingers were covered in blood when I pulled them back. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” I lied, everything was still swaying and I wasn’t sure I could stand up again. The ‘wolf looked at me, unimpressed. “I’ll get it checked out,” I told him, knowing he could hear the ambulance sirens in the distance. Grey huffed out a breath as if to say ‘you’d better’, but sat back down. I rested my hand on his shoulder for a moment, fingers clenching in his fur. Together we turned our heads towards the sound heavy footfalls approaching. Back-up had arrived.

***

The deputy standing by the yellow tape looked a little green, which was never a good sign near a crime scene, especially since the deputyrword,efore lifting the yellow tape andrimescene. Ts they were when human. in question is a werewolf. I was already regretting getting up this morning. “Morning, Feldt,” I greeted him, showing him my badge. He looked it over for a moment before lifting the yellow tape and gesturing me through. “Morning, ma’am.” I ducked under it and walked onto the crime scene, stifling another yawn. The showdown with Deoradhan and the following medical attention meant I hadn’t gotten home until around four in the morning. After that, my brother had woken me every two hours, at the doctor’s request of course, to check for a concussion. My poor head wasn’t concussed, but it wasn’t happy either, a splitting headache sitting just behind my eyes. So yeah, this morning was already off to a great start even before I got the call that a mauled body had been found in the Bent neighbourhood. A man lay in the middle of the street in a large pool of blood, presumably his own. Dressed in slacks and a dress shirt that was once white, but was now soaked through with crimson. Spray tan and too much gold jewellery, I noted. Balding and what might have a been a bit of a pudge if his guts weren’t currently outside of his body. Most of his torso looked like it had been worked over with a meat grinder, which usually meant one thing: the killer was not human. “You look like crap, Harper,” Detective Ian Andrews greeted me from where he was standing a few feet from the victim. He sipped from a Styrofoam cup which smelled like delicious, heavenly coffee. Dammit, I should have stopped for coffee. “Not all of us can look like a spry 50 year old after chasing down a spree killer through dark alleys at three in the morning,” I told him, grinning. “The secret is yoga and caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.” He took another sip. “How are you holding up?” he asked, resting his hand on my arm for a moment. “I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow. “A bit shaken up,” I admitted, “but I’ll be fine. Your partner got to me in time.” “It’s never easy looking down a barrel of a gun, or in this case, the tip of a wand. We’ve all been there. But you’re still here, that’s what’s important.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “So, what have we got?” He accepted my not-so-subtle change of subject and dug his notepad out of his pocket. “According to the ID and wallet our killer so helpfully left behind, victim’s name is Donald Koppenhaver, 52 years old. Kravitz is working on his background back at the precinct.” I nodded and walked closer to the body, being mindful of where I put my feet. “Do we know what did all this – ?” “Carnage?” My partner, Violet Bluebell, said from where she sat crouched next to the medical examiner. She was dressed in a dark pink suit today, the purple silk shirt the same colour as the tips of her short curls. Most human professionals wouldn’t be caught dead wearing an outfit like that, but somehow pixies always seem to pull it off flawlessly. Violet once told me the colours remind them of the flower-petal clothes pixies wears in their small form. The medical examiner was gently pushing the vic’s chin back, exposing the ragged bite marks to his throat. “We think werewolf,” Layla Strong said as she carefully pulled a pluck of grey, bloodied hair away from the neck wound and put it in an evidence bag. “Definitely werewolf.” Wilder Grey stated from right behind me. I jumped and glared at him, he gave me a shit eating grin in return. Freaking annoying stealthy werewolves. “I can smell it all over the alley. You alright?” he asked me. “Yeah, thanks. And, you know, thanks again for – saving my life.” He looked me over, concerned, and nodded. “The fur is werewolf,” Violet said, “but we also found a long, grey hair and wounds that are consistent with a knife.” She gestured towards the mess that used to be his stomach. “So either the werewolf shifted halfway through the attack, or we have two attackers,” I finished for her. “But why would he shift? If he already had a knife why not finish it this way? And if he could shift why not attack him as a wolf?” I turned to Detective Grey, “Would a werewolf and a human work together like this, normally?” He shook his head. “No. We get pretty territorial over our kills. Unless they were both ‘wolves, but then they’d both be in the same shape.” “Hmm. Anything stand out in particular?” I asked, “Any scent of shift-inhibitors or other drugs?” “Nothing I can sniff out. A lot of people passed through here, but I don’t get anything out of the ordinary.” “Alright.” I turned toward Violet where she was still crouched next to the ME. “What are we dealing with, emotionally?” I asked her. “Desperation,” the pixie, the empath and the werewolf answered simultaneously. Yeah, that wasn’t creepy at all.   “But there's also -” Violet paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word. “Aggression,” Layla chimed in. “Yeah,” Violet agreed, “like, the thrill of the hunt.” She made it sound like a question. “I don't know, something feels weird about this.” She pushed her aqua and purple curls out of her face with her wrist. “I think I have enough for a reconstruction, though.” She closed her eyes for a moment, holding her hands cupped towards each other. A tiny flicker of golden light appeared between her hands, blinking in and out of existence a few times before becoming a small ball of energy. The ball grew, the golden light reflecting warmly on her dark skin. She kept going, her face scrunched up in concentration, until it had about the size of a soccer ball. Then she threw her hands up, the energy flying into the air and bursting apart in a shower of golden dust. Beside me, Grey sneezed. Werewolves always reacted weirdly to magic, especially the pixie kind. The dust floated down, most of it disappearing before it could hit the ground. The rest seemed to cling to three invisible shapes, forming a wolf and two humanoid figures. The heavier-set man, meant to be Koppenhaver, started running, the wolf and the lithe form of the other human giving chase. Koppenhaver stopped and turned around, his hands help up in front of him. It looked like he was begging for his life. The smaller human jumped forward, grabbing him by the throat and slicing into his stomach. Koppenhaver fell to his knees, the wolf now going for his throat. The wolf rode him down to the floor, head thrashing as it tore off pieces of flesh. The lithe human stepped in again, slashing wildly into the prone form of Koppenhaver. It was brutal to watch, even acted out in sparkly glitter. Koppenhaver twitched one last time, then turned to dust once again, the other two shapes floating away on the wind. Violet let out a sigh and listed sideways, the ME just able to catch her before she hit the ground. “Violet!” I rushed over to her. She was still conscious, but she’d overtaxed herself. She’d had gotten just as much sleep as I had, but she’d been practising magic to boot. A glamour to calm Deoradhan down, a spell like this one to track my wild chase after him, anything to catch the guy. We were the same that way. I turned towards one of the deputies standing around. “We need something sweet, fast.” A moment later a bottle of honeyed elderflower lemonade was pressed into my hand. I helped Violet take a few sips and gave her a couple of moments to steady again. Sugar helped, but she would be tapped out for the rest of the day. “You alright?” I asked her when she could sit up on her own again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about that.” She smiled and turned away, running her hand through her hair. I grimaced at the streak of red blood now running through the turquoise. “Sweetie, gloves.” She looked at her hand for a moment. “Ah toadstools, this is just not my day.” Slinging my arm around her shoulder I squeezed her for a moment. “Don’t worry, you did good. We now have a place to start.” Even though the reconstructions weren’t foolproof, magic couldn’t show exactly what had happened, but pixies could feel the emotions and the atmosphere of a place and cast an illusion of what most probably had happened. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but it was a start. “There is something still off, though. Something I’m missing.” Violet’s hand clenched in her lap in frustration. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll catch these guys.” And we’d better do it quick, I thought, because if these guys were as aggressive as Violet had shown, there would be more bodies before the week was out.

Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis

Can you feel it? The long days are getting longer, the sunshine is getting shinier. The flowers, they bloom. Not to mention the baseball—did you know they’re playing it every day now? We’re almost—almost!—ready to gear up for an incredible Series Seven of our annual Build-Outs of Summer roving feature series, exploring the best and brightest in new cafes under construction around the world. Look for an open call for submissions on the near horizon, somewhere amidst the barbecue smoke and chilled sparkling beverages.

But for today we’re taking an in-depth look at a project built not during the summer, but across a long and frigid Minnesota winter. Our longtime partners at Dogwood Coffee just opened a truly stunning new roasting headquarters and cafe space in Minneapolis at 1209 Tyler St NE (just across the river from Downtown and not far from the University of Minnesota). It was an epic undertaking, involving creatives from a wide berth of fields and plenty of support from the local Minnesota specialty coffee community.

Photos of this place look truly wild. The wallpaper! The vibe! All that gorgeous neon! To learn more we sat down for this in-depth interview (a glimpse of Build-Outs to come) with Dogwood Coffee owner Dan Anderson.

As a start, let us know a bit of background about this project—how long has the new HQ space been in development? Who did you work with on this project for design and architecture?

Our new space was just down the hall from where we’d been roasting since our beginning in 2010. Truth be told, we coveted the space for a long time. It was originally a photo studio and I totally get it now. It’s a huge open space with just the best natural daylight. The photography studio had covered all the sides of this southern-facing space with large windows and glass garage doors, no interior lights really—just lots and lots of glass. So, that was the foundation of the space. Last winter (we tell time with seasons here), the tenants who had it under lease told us they were gonna let go of the space and we jumped right on it.

We worked with an architect for the city submittal plan, but most of the design we actually did ourselves collaborating with a lot of talented friends. First off, the space was vacant and just down the hall, so I really had unlimited access to sit/stand/walk and dream/stare/notice and of course, lots and lots of thick blue masking tape marking off every idea and option. My wife was my greatest partner in helping define and refine the design. She really helped me pull everything together. We wanted a space that was bright, playful, welcoming, reflective, layered, warm and uniquely us.

As I mentioned earlier, we had a lot of help from great friends and ultimately they are what allowed us to achieve the type of space we hoped for. Here’s a snapshot of some of those collaborations:

*Michael Brown, production designer for Bon Iver and The National—walked the space with me early on and shared thoughts on lighting, acoustics, and creating environments. Put me on to using wool felt as an acoustic material. Our lighting (Turf Designs) are large felt baffles with integrated LED lighting and some of them are even full RGB color adjustable, which allows us to play with light as color in the space.

*Ashley Mary, painter—worked with us on a custom mural to cover a long-running wall on the cafe side. Her use of color and forms create such a playful, bright and energizing space.

*Alec Soth, photographer—in between losing in ping pong matches to him, Alec heard out our vision and searched through his catalog of photographs for just the right one and was then willing to have us large-scale print his museum worthy work on FRP (Marlite.com) to use as the back wall of our bar. It was a first for both of us. 

*BluDot, furniture company—their headquarters is just down the way in our same building complex. They worked with us on all our soft seating in the cafe and all our office furniture. Nadia (their Visual Creative Lead) and her team even personally helped us plan and execute the furniture layout.

*Loll & Intectural, furniture and architectural supply—these and companies are owned by our friends up in Duluth. With Loll, they created custom booths for us made from recycled bottles. Intectural supplied us with Richlite panels that we made our bar from and also all the thermally-modified wood we used for interior walls and our deck/patio. They even did a custom milling of our wall boards that allowed us to add ¼” strips of felt (supplied by the lighting company TURF that matched our felt lights) between each row of boards.

*Skyline Neon—Since Neon (our espresso blend) has been a core product for us since our beginning, we always have a neon installation in all our cafes, and they’re all made here in Minneapolis by Matt Thompson. This neon installation was by far our most ambitious and Matt made it happen. We essentially suspended four running tubes in mid-air that start at our bar, puncture through the wall that separates the cafe from our roasting space, and then stops above our roaster. On the cafe side, a separate neon tube appears and then wraps around/squeezes all the tubes together. I know it’ll be missed by many customers, but I also know my staff is aware of what the neon installation represents. Each of the four tubes start from a different place and connect both our retail and roasting spaces. For us, it is a visual reminder that encompasses all of what Dogwood does with a knowing that we are bound together with all the people involved along the way.

*Benoit Tardif, illustrator and fellow hockey fan—we had the wonderful opportunity to work with a longtime personal favorite illustrator. Benoit is from Montreal and as we continue to strive to express the humanity behind and in our business, he created the perfect illustration that is uniquely Benoit and uniquely Dogwood. The illustration is what we used for our signage on the outside of our space. It was hand painted by Forrest Wozniak and his team. They painted it outside in the middle of January here—single digit temps at best. We built a little structure covered in plastic with a heater pumping in. I’ll never forget running coffee out to them in super freezing weather, and there they were painting away wearing just t-shirts.

What neighborhood is the new space located in, and can you tell our readers a bit about it?

The new space is located in NE Minneapolis. It’s a great neighborhood with a lot of artists, breweries, creative businesses, restaurants, and even a local ice arena a block away. Most people affiliate a lot of our local craft beer growth coming from within a number of blocks from us: Indeed, Dangerous Man, Able, BauHaus, and several more. It’s about a five minute drive or a 12 minute rollerblade, depending on your preferred mode of transportation, across the Mississippi River to the north of downtown.

Talk to us about some of the gear at the cafe and roastworks—what roaster are you working with? How about cafe gear? Anything new or notable to play with?

Lots of new tools and toys!

First off for roasting, we purchased a new Mill City 30kg roaster with a tube loader from Cablevey and a 500g Mill City for sampling and profile development. We previously had Probat roasters, and spent time considering them, Loring, and Mill City. We spent a lot of time with Joe Morocco and Steve Green here at Mill City and really liked what they’ve come up with and where they are going with Mill City. So far we’ve been really happy with their system and the coffee is tasting better than ever. We also got a few items that help in terms of the physical demands of being a roaster. We’re using a prototype hydraulic lift cart with a built-in scale from Mill City that is immediately being appreciated in terms of cutting down all the repetitive lifting and loading.  We also have a new ergonomic lift workstation (Ergotron) that we use for roasting. It has a large screen and is running a beta version of Cropster developed for Mill City. It’s also on casters and can move between our sample and production roasters. We are big fans of Cropster and have used them for all our inventory and profile management.

On our warehouse side, we purchased a sweet little blue 1991 battery Mitsubishi forklift with pneumatic tires (need for driving in the snow here). So fun! Previously we used hand pallet lifts for all the coffee and we just can’t get enough of  the forklift now. We also got enough storage shelving from Uline to qualify for the free chocolate covered peanuts that are so good. We built a new training and cupping lab on our warehouse side and have a Synesso S200, Mahlkönig K30 Air and EK43s, two Curtis Corinth water towers, lots of Chemexes and Kalitas, Acaia scales (including the Cinco for cupping), Fellow kettles, notNeutral cupping bowls, and a bunch of Umeshisho rainbow cupping spoons.

For the cafe coffee tools, we got a glitter stardust powder-coated three-group Synesso MVP Hydra, three Mahlkönig PEAK grinders (for espresso service), EK43s paired with two Modbar pour-over units, and a Curtis G4 Thermopro paired with an EK43 for batch. We use notNeutral’s Vero glassware for our espresso drinks up through cappuccinos. We have the rose color for our Neon-based drinks and the smoke color for our Bear Hug-based drinks. More Chemexes, Kalitas, Acaia scales, and Fellow kettles. We’re also using Square’s new register and so far, so great.

What’s something you’re especially excited about for the space that folks might not notice at first glance?

I’m especially proud of the thought that went into this space in terms of accessibility. I know ADA requirements will address a baseline of accessibility considerations, but we wanted to push it further in terms of thoughtfulness. One example is that we put the best seat at our bar at wheelchair height and included another chair right alongside it for a friend or special someone. The rest of the bar bumps up to the traditional bar height. I couldn’t think of any bars around that someone in a wheelchair could pull up to and it’s been one of my greatest joys in the space to see it when it’s used. We’re currently arranging a third party accessibility audit of all our shops to learn how we can better make our spaces accessible to all. More than anything coming from this interview, I’d love to encourage everyone out there to consider doing an accessibility audit of their spaces if they haven’t already.

What’s your favorite coffee right now in the Dogwood line-up?

I am a total sucker for our Andrade family coffee from Colombia. We’ve purchased all of their exported coffee since 2012 and do some day lot separations of the best days. It ends up supplying us with an almost year-round supply of constantly arriving small vac-packed bricks of stunning coffee. We roll out one day lot after another and they are a consistent favorite of mine. We’re on one lot right now that just has the juiciest tropical flavors—it’s such a satisfying cup! 

Your previous HQ space was full of delightful nick-nacks and tchotchkes—we partied there a full time and the space had so much personality. How did you transfer that spirit into a new home?

I love trying to figure out fun little surprises to add throughout our spaces. Things you might not always notice in coming once, but the more you come, the more you might discover. In this space we have a full glassed-in room (racquetball court-esque) dedicated to just playing ping pong. It has a real tennis court floor with a center stripe, and the only music in the room comes from a custom Mixtape (Mixtape is also a blend of ours) cassette we made that’s played on an 80’s JVC Boombox.  

We have two bathrooms in our space; one has this metallic tiger pattern wallpaper and only plays “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat and includes an early Balboa cardboard cutout on the back of the door, the other has a gold chain foil wallpaper and includes a vintage large photo of Run DMC, only plays “My Adidas” on repeat and has a vintage pair of Jam Master Jay Superstars hanging from their laces on a pipe running across the ceiling. I also had a pair of baby Superstars glued down to a lower shelf on a diaper changing table in the room, but someone already stole those, sadly. I think bathrooms are an easy place to have some fun with, maybe it can just catch someone off guard a little bit and make them smile.

Another fun spot is hard to explain without seeing, but is essentially a combination of a mirrored multi-angle wall, a glass wall and a wallpapered wall. The wallpapered wall is a reflective mylar galaxy design that then has a suspended ceramic astronaut and a separate small rotating globe coming off the wall. About five feet across from that is the multi-angled mirrored wall that reflects back into the retail space through the large glass wall that separates the spaces. Oh forget it! Too hard to explain. It’s a big mirrored wall that reflects the customers back into the space. They bring the color, the movement, the dynamism to the space, and at just the right angle for them as they walk by, they’re reflected back into this deep cosmic space.

A final little touch of fun is we’ve adorned a wall in our cupping room with all the national soccer scarves we could find from countries we buy coffee from. The only bummer is a quick realization that East Africa needs some better representation on the world soccer stage.

Are you going to make more hockey pucks?

We just made some new ones inspired by the old Minnesota North Stars logo. Kevin is our production manager here and one heck of a designer! He’s done a lot of designs for us, and this is one of my personal favorites. We like them as tamp mats, paper weights, and the obvious as hockey pucks.

The Minnesota (and specifically Twin Cities) coffee scene is really special—lots of personality, lot of cafes. What makes the coffee culture in your part of the US so great?

The Twin Cities at its best can pair humility with quality, something special from both the product and the experience. We do have a lot of great coffee here and some really wonderful shops. We’re also home to Cafe Imports, Mill City Roasters and the Northern Coffee Alliance, which are obviously huge assets here to the coffee community. We really have world-class restaurants (currently three women chef James Beard finalists representing us), baking (Rustica, Baker’s Field, Sunstreet, Patisserie 46, Black Walnut), and beverage communities (too many distilleries, cocktail rooms & breweries to name).

We’re also home to some people doing really special things, like Sean Sherman, author of The Sioux Chef’s Indigenous Kitchen and a personal hero of mine, who is revitalizing Native American cuisine and currently building a new project here called the Indigenous Food Lab; Steve Horton, a gifted baker who has brought flour milling back to Minneapolis, sourcing various grains from local small farmers, stone milling it right here in Minneapolis and then baking naturally-leavened breads in a wood-fired oven; Tony Querio at Spyhouse, winner of the 2106 US Roasting championship; and the team at Gutter Punk, who works to provide employment and development for youth experiencing homelessness.

We’re very fortunate to be surrounded by such a gifted and collaborative community.

Thank you. 

The new Dogwood Coffee HQ and coffee bar is located at 1209 Tyler Street NE, Minneapolis. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Jordan Michelman (@suitcasewine) is a co-founder and editor at Sprudge Media Network. Read more Jordan Michelman on Sprudge.

The post Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis appeared first on Sprudge.

Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis published first on https://medium.com/@LinLinCoffee

Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis

Can you feel it? The long days are getting longer, the sunshine is getting shinier. The flowers, they bloom. Not to mention the baseball—did you know they’re playing it every day now? We’re almost—almost!—ready to gear up for an incredible Series Seven of our annual Build-Outs of Summer roving feature series, exploring the best and brightest in new cafes under construction around the world. Look for an open call for submissions on the near horizon, somewhere amidst the barbecue smoke and chilled sparkling beverages.

But for today we’re taking an in-depth look at a project built not during the summer, but across a long and frigid Minnesota winter. Our longtime partners at Dogwood Coffee just opened a truly stunning new roasting headquarters and cafe space in Minneapolis at 1209 Tyler St NE (just across the river from Downtown and not far from the University of Minnesota). It was an epic undertaking, involving creatives from a wide berth of fields and plenty of support from the local Minnesota specialty coffee community.

Photos of this place look truly wild. The wallpaper! The vibe! All that gorgeous neon! To learn more we sat down for this in-depth interview (a glimpse of Build-Outs to come) with Dogwood Coffee owner Dan Anderson.

As a start, let us know a bit of background about this project—how long has the new HQ space been in development? Who did you work with on this project for design and architecture?

Our new space was just down the hall from where we’d been roasting since our beginning in 2010. Truth be told, we coveted the space for a long time. It was originally a photo studio and I totally get it now. It’s a huge open space with just the best natural daylight. The photography studio had covered all the sides of this southern-facing space with large windows and glass garage doors, no interior lights really—just lots and lots of glass. So, that was the foundation of the space. Last winter (we tell time with seasons here), the tenants who had it under lease told us they were gonna let go of the space and we jumped right on it.

We worked with an architect for the city submittal plan, but most of the design we actually did ourselves collaborating with a lot of talented friends. First off, the space was vacant and just down the hall, so I really had unlimited access to sit/stand/walk and dream/stare/notice and of course, lots and lots of thick blue masking tape marking off every idea and option. My wife was my greatest partner in helping define and refine the design. She really helped me pull everything together. We wanted a space that was bright, playful, welcoming, reflective, layered, warm and uniquely us.

As I mentioned earlier, we had a lot of help from great friends and ultimately they are what allowed us to achieve the type of space we hoped for. Here’s a snapshot of some of those collaborations:

*Michael Brown, production designer for Bon Iver and The National—walked the space with me early on and shared thoughts on lighting, acoustics, and creating environments. Put me on to using wool felt as an acoustic material. Our lighting (Turf Designs) are large felt baffles with integrated LED lighting and some of them are even full RGB color adjustable, which allows us to play with light as color in the space.

*Ashley Mary, painter—worked with us on a custom mural to cover a long-running wall on the cafe side. Her use of color and forms create such a playful, bright and energizing space.

*Alec Soth, photographer—in between losing in ping pong matches to him, Alec heard out our vision and searched through his catalog of photographs for just the right one and was then willing to have us large-scale print his museum worthy work on FRP (Marlite.com) to use as the back wall of our bar. It was a first for both of us. 

*BluDot, furniture company—their headquarters is just down the way in our same building complex. They worked with us on all our soft seating in the cafe and all our office furniture. Nadia (their Visual Creative Lead) and her team even personally helped us plan and execute the furniture layout.

*Loll & Intectural, furniture and architectural supply—these and companies are owned by our friends up in Duluth. With Loll, they created custom booths for us made from recycled bottles. Intectural supplied us with Richlite panels that we made our bar from and also all the thermally-modified wood we used for interior walls and our deck/patio. They even did a custom milling of our wall boards that allowed us to add ¼” strips of felt (supplied by the lighting company TURF that matched our felt lights) between each row of boards.

*Skyline Neon—Since Neon (our espresso blend) has been a core product for us since our beginning, we always have a neon installation in all our cafes, and they’re all made here in Minneapolis by Matt Thompson. This neon installation was by far our most ambitious and Matt made it happen. We essentially suspended four running tubes in mid-air that start at our bar, puncture through the wall that separates the cafe from our roasting space, and then stops above our roaster. On the cafe side, a separate neon tube appears and then wraps around/squeezes all the tubes together. I know it’ll be missed by many customers, but I also know my staff is aware of what the neon installation represents. Each of the four tubes start from a different place and connect both our retail and roasting spaces. For us, it is a visual reminder that encompasses all of what Dogwood does with a knowing that we are bound together with all the people involved along the way.

*Benoit Tardif, illustrator and fellow hockey fan—we had the wonderful opportunity to work with a longtime personal favorite illustrator. Benoit is from Montreal and as we continue to strive to express the humanity behind and in our business, he created the perfect illustration that is uniquely Benoit and uniquely Dogwood. The illustration is what we used for our signage on the outside of our space. It was hand painted by Forrest Wozniak and his team. They painted it outside in the middle of January here—single digit temps at best. We built a little structure covered in plastic with a heater pumping in. I’ll never forget running coffee out to them in super freezing weather, and there they were painting away wearing just t-shirts.

What neighborhood is the new space located in, and can you tell our readers a bit about it?

The new space is located in NE Minneapolis. It’s a great neighborhood with a lot of artists, breweries, creative businesses, restaurants, and even a local ice arena a block away. Most people affiliate a lot of our local craft beer growth coming from within a number of blocks from us: Indeed, Dangerous Man, Able, BauHaus, and several more. It’s about a five minute drive or a 12 minute rollerblade, depending on your preferred mode of transportation, across the Mississippi River to the north of downtown.

Talk to us about some of the gear at the cafe and roastworks—what roaster are you working with? How about cafe gear? Anything new or notable to play with?

Lots of new tools and toys!

First off for roasting, we purchased a new Mill City 30kg roaster with a tube loader from Cablevey and a 500g Mill City for sampling and profile development. We previously had Probat roasters, and spent time considering them, Loring, and Mill City. We spent a lot of time with Joe Morocco and Steve Green here at Mill City and really liked what they’ve come up with and where they are going with Mill City. So far we’ve been really happy with their system and the coffee is tasting better than ever. We also got a few items that help in terms of the physical demands of being a roaster. We’re using a prototype hydraulic lift cart with a built-in scale from Mill City that is immediately being appreciated in terms of cutting down all the repetitive lifting and loading.  We also have a new ergonomic lift workstation (Ergotron) that we use for roasting. It has a large screen and is running a beta version of Cropster developed for Mill City. It’s also on casters and can move between our sample and production roasters. We are big fans of Cropster and have used them for all our inventory and profile management.

On our warehouse side, we purchased a sweet little blue 1991 battery Mitsubishi forklift with pneumatic tires (need for driving in the snow here). So fun! Previously we used hand pallet lifts for all the coffee and we just can’t get enough of  the forklift now. We also got enough storage shelving from Uline to qualify for the free chocolate covered peanuts that are so good. We built a new training and cupping lab on our warehouse side and have a Synesso S200, Mahlkönig K30 Air and EK43s, two Curtis Corinth water towers, lots of Chemexes and Kalitas, Acaia scales (including the Cinco for cupping), Fellow kettles, notNeutral cupping bowls, and a bunch of Umeshisho rainbow cupping spoons.

For the cafe coffee tools, we got a glitter stardust powder-coated three-group Synesso MVP Hydra, three Mahlkönig PEAK grinders (for espresso service), EK43s paired with two Modbar pour-over units, and a Curtis G4 Thermopro paired with an EK43 for batch. We use notNeutral’s Vero glassware for our espresso drinks up through cappuccinos. We have the rose color for our Neon-based drinks and the smoke color for our Bear Hug-based drinks. More Chemexes, Kalitas, Acaia scales, and Fellow kettles. We’re also using Square’s new register and so far, so great.

What’s something you’re especially excited about for the space that folks might not notice at first glance?

I’m especially proud of the thought that went into this space in terms of accessibility. I know ADA requirements will address a baseline of accessibility considerations, but we wanted to push it further in terms of thoughtfulness. One example is that we put the best seat at our bar at wheelchair height and included another chair right alongside it for a friend or special someone. The rest of the bar bumps up to the traditional bar height. I couldn’t think of any bars around that someone in a wheelchair could pull up to and it’s been one of my greatest joys in the space to see it when it’s used. We’re currently arranging a third party accessibility audit of all our shops to learn how we can better make our spaces accessible to all. More than anything coming from this interview, I’d love to encourage everyone out there to consider doing an accessibility audit of their spaces if they haven’t already.

What’s your favorite coffee right now in the Dogwood line-up?

I am a total sucker for our Andrade family coffee from Colombia. We’ve purchased all of their exported coffee since 2012 and do some day lot separations of the best days. It ends up supplying us with an almost year-round supply of constantly arriving small vac-packed bricks of stunning coffee. We roll out one day lot after another and they are a consistent favorite of mine. We’re on one lot right now that just has the juiciest tropical flavors—it’s such a satisfying cup! 

Your previous HQ space was full of delightful nick-nacks and tchotchkes—we partied there a full time and the space had so much personality. How did you transfer that spirit into a new home?

I love trying to figure out fun little surprises to add throughout our spaces. Things you might not always notice in coming once, but the more you come, the more you might discover. In this space we have a full glassed-in room (racquetball court-esque) dedicated to just playing ping pong. It has a real tennis court floor with a center stripe, and the only music in the room comes from a custom Mixtape (Mixtape is also a blend of ours) cassette we made that’s played on an 80’s JVC Boombox.  

We have two bathrooms in our space; one has this metallic tiger pattern wallpaper and only plays “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat and includes an early Balboa cardboard cutout on the back of the door, the other has a gold chain foil wallpaper and includes a vintage large photo of Run DMC, only plays “My Adidas” on repeat and has a vintage pair of Jam Master Jay Superstars hanging from their laces on a pipe running across the ceiling. I also had a pair of baby Superstars glued down to a lower shelf on a diaper changing table in the room, but someone already stole those, sadly. I think bathrooms are an easy place to have some fun with, maybe it can just catch someone off guard a little bit and make them smile.

Another fun spot is hard to explain without seeing, but is essentially a combination of a mirrored multi-angle wall, a glass wall and a wallpapered wall. The wallpapered wall is a reflective mylar galaxy design that then has a suspended ceramic astronaut and a separate small rotating globe coming off the wall. About five feet across from that is the multi-angled mirrored wall that reflects back into the retail space through the large glass wall that separates the spaces. Oh forget it! Too hard to explain. It’s a big mirrored wall that reflects the customers back into the space. They bring the color, the movement, the dynamism to the space, and at just the right angle for them as they walk by, they’re reflected back into this deep cosmic space.

A final little touch of fun is we’ve adorned a wall in our cupping room with all the national soccer scarves we could find from countries we buy coffee from. The only bummer is a quick realization that East Africa needs some better representation on the world soccer stage.

Are you going to make more hockey pucks?

We just made some new ones inspired by the old Minnesota North Stars logo. Kevin is our production manager here and one heck of a designer! He’s done a lot of designs for us, and this is one of my personal favorites. We like them as tamp mats, paper weights, and the obvious as hockey pucks.

The Minnesota (and specifically Twin Cities) coffee scene is really special—lots of personality, lot of cafes. What makes the coffee culture in your part of the US so great?

The Twin Cities at its best can pair humility with quality, something special from both the product and the experience. We do have a lot of great coffee here and some really wonderful shops. We’re also home to Cafe Imports, Mill City Roasters and the Northern Coffee Alliance, which are obviously huge assets here to the coffee community. We really have world-class restaurants (currently three women chef James Beard finalists representing us), baking (Rustica, Baker’s Field, Sunstreet, Patisserie 46, Black Walnut), and beverage communities (too many distilleries, cocktail rooms & breweries to name).

We’re also home to some people doing really special things, like Sean Sherman, author of The Sioux Chef’s Indigenous Kitchen and a personal hero of mine, who is revitalizing Native American cuisine and currently building a new project here called the Indigenous Food Lab; Steve Horton, a gifted baker who has brought flour milling back to Minneapolis, sourcing various grains from local small farmers, stone milling it right here in Minneapolis and then baking naturally-leavened breads in a wood-fired oven; Tony Querio at Spyhouse, winner of the 2106 US Roasting championship; and the team at Gutter Punk, who works to provide employment and development for youth experiencing homelessness.

We’re very fortunate to be surrounded by such a gifted and collaborative community.

Thank you. 

The new Dogwood Coffee HQ and coffee bar is located at 1209 Tyler Street NE, Minneapolis. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Jordan Michelman (@suitcasewine) is a co-founder and editor at Sprudge Media Network. Read more Jordan Michelman on Sprudge.

The post Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis appeared first on Sprudge.

from Sprudge http://bit.ly/2PvsPDJ

Inside The New Dogwood Coffee Roasters HQ In Minneapolis

Can you feel it? The long days are getting longer, the sunshine is getting shinier. The flowers, they bloom. Not to mention the baseball—did you know they’re playing it every day now? We’re almost—almost!—ready to gear up for an incredible Series Seven of our annual Build-Outs of Summer roving feature series, exploring the best and brightest in new cafes under construction around the world. Look for an open call for submissions on the near horizon, somewhere amidst the barbecue smoke and chilled sparkling beverages.

But for today we’re taking an in-depth look at a project built not during the summer, but across a long and frigid Minnesota winter. Our longtime partners at Dogwood Coffee just opened a truly stunning new roasting headquarters and cafe space in Minneapolis at 1209 Tyler St NE (just across the river from Downtown and not far from the University of Minnesota). It was an epic undertaking, involving creatives from a wide berth of fields and plenty of support from the local Minnesota specialty coffee community.

Photos of this place look truly wild. The wallpaper! The vibe! All that gorgeous neon! To learn more we sat down for this in-depth interview (a glimpse of Build-Outs to come) with Dogwood Coffee owner Dan Anderson.

As a start, let us know a bit of background about this project—how long has the new HQ space been in development? Who did you work with on this project for design and architecture?

Our new space was just down the hall from where we’d been roasting since our beginning in 2010. Truth be told, we coveted the space for a long time. It was originally a photo studio and I totally get it now. It’s a huge open space with just the best natural daylight. The photography studio had covered all the sides of this southern-facing space with large windows and glass garage doors, no interior lights really—just lots and lots of glass. So, that was the foundation of the space. Last winter (we tell time with seasons here), the tenants who had it under lease told us they were gonna let go of the space and we jumped right on it.

We worked with an architect for the city submittal plan, but most of the design we actually did ourselves collaborating with a lot of talented friends. First off, the space was vacant and just down the hall, so I really had unlimited access to sit/stand/walk and dream/stare/notice and of course, lots and lots of thick blue masking tape marking off every idea and option. My wife was my greatest partner in helping define and refine the design. She really helped me pull everything together. We wanted a space that was bright, playful, welcoming, reflective, layered, warm and uniquely us.

As I mentioned earlier, we had a lot of help from great friends and ultimately they are what allowed us to achieve the type of space we hoped for. Here’s a snapshot of some of those collaborations:

*Michael Brown, production designer for Bon Iver and The National—walked the space with me early on and shared thoughts on lighting, acoustics, and creating environments. Put me on to using wool felt as an acoustic material. Our lighting (Turf Designs) are large felt baffles with integrated LED lighting and some of them are even full RGB color adjustable, which allows us to play with light as color in the space.

*Ashley Mary, painter—worked with us on a custom mural to cover a long-running wall on the cafe side. Her use of color and forms create such a playful, bright and energizing space.

*Alec Soth, photographer—in between losing in ping pong matches to him, Alec heard out our vision and searched through his catalog of photographs for just the right one and was then willing to have us large-scale print his museum worthy work on FRP (Marlite.com) to use as the back wall of our bar. It was a first for both of us. 

*BluDot, furniture company—their headquarters is just down the way in our same building complex. They worked with us on all our soft seating in the cafe and all our office furniture. Nadia (their Visual Creative Lead) and her team even personally helped us plan and execute the furniture layout.

*Loll & Intectural, furniture and architectural supply—these and companies are owned by our friends up in Duluth. With Loll, they created custom booths for us made from recycled bottles. Intectural supplied us with Richlite panels that we made our bar from and also all the thermally-modified wood we used for interior walls and our deck/patio. They even did a custom milling of our wall boards that allowed us to add ¼” strips of felt (supplied by the lighting company TURF that matched our felt lights) between each row of boards.

*Skyline Neon—Since Neon (our espresso blend) has been a core product for us since our beginning, we always have a neon installation in all our cafes, and they’re all made here in Minneapolis by Matt Thompson. This neon installation was by far our most ambitious and Matt made it happen. We essentially suspended four running tubes in mid-air that start at our bar, puncture through the wall that separates the cafe from our roasting space, and then stops above our roaster. On the cafe side, a separate neon tube appears and then wraps around/squeezes all the tubes together. I know it’ll be missed by many customers, but I also know my staff is aware of what the neon installation represents. Each of the four tubes start from a different place and connect both our retail and roasting spaces. For us, it is a visual reminder that encompasses all of what Dogwood does with a knowing that we are bound together with all the people involved along the way.

*Benoit Tardif, illustrator and fellow hockey fan—we had the wonderful opportunity to work with a longtime personal favorite illustrator. Benoit is from Montreal and as we continue to strive to express the humanity behind and in our business, he created the perfect illustration that is uniquely Benoit and uniquely Dogwood. The illustration is what we used for our signage on the outside of our space. It was hand painted by Forrest Wozniak and his team. They painted it outside in the middle of January here—single digit temps at best. We built a little structure covered in plastic with a heater pumping in. I’ll never forget running coffee out to them in super freezing weather, and there they were painting away wearing just t-shirts.

What neighborhood is the new space located in, and can you tell our readers a bit about it?

The new space is located in NE Minneapolis. It’s a great neighborhood with a lot of artists, breweries, creative businesses, restaurants, and even a local ice arena a block away. Most people affiliate a lot of our local craft beer growth coming from within a number of blocks from us: Indeed, Dangerous Man, Able, BauHaus, and several more. It’s about a five minute drive or a 12 minute rollerblade, depending on your preferred mode of transportation, across the Mississippi River to the north of downtown.

Talk to us about some of the gear at the cafe and roastworks—what roaster are you working with? How about cafe gear? Anything new or notable to play with?

Lots of new tools and toys!

First off for roasting, we purchased a new Mill City 30kg roaster with a tube loader from Cablevey and a 500g Mill City for sampling and profile development. We previously had Probat roasters, and spent time considering them, Loring, and Mill City. We spent a lot of time with Joe Morocco and Steve Green here at Mill City and really liked what they’ve come up with and where they are going with Mill City. So far we’ve been really happy with their system and the coffee is tasting better than ever. We also got a few items that help in terms of the physical demands of being a roaster. We’re using a prototype hydraulic lift cart with a built-in scale from Mill City that is immediately being appreciated in terms of cutting down all the repetitive lifting and loading.  We also have a new ergonomic lift workstation (Ergotron) that we use for roasting. It has a large screen and is running a beta version of Cropster developed for Mill City. It’s also on casters and can move between our sample and production roasters. We are big fans of Cropster and have used them for all our inventory and profile management.

On our warehouse side, we purchased a sweet little blue 1991 battery Mitsubishi forklift with pneumatic tires (need for driving in the snow here). So fun! Previously we used hand pallet lifts for all the coffee and we just can’t get enough of  the forklift now. We also got enough storage shelving from Uline to qualify for the free chocolate covered peanuts that are so good. We built a new training and cupping lab on our warehouse side and have a Synesso S200, Mahlkönig K30 Air and EK43s, two Curtis Corinth water towers, lots of Chemexes and Kalitas, Acaia scales (including the Cinco for cupping), Fellow kettles, notNeutral cupping bowls, and a bunch of Umeshisho rainbow cupping spoons.

For the cafe coffee tools, we got a glitter stardust powder-coated three-group Synesso MVP Hydra, three Mahlkönig PEAK grinders (for espresso service), EK43s paired with two Modbar pour-over units, and a Curtis G4 Thermopro paired with an EK43 for batch. We use notNeutral’s Vero glassware for our espresso drinks up through cappuccinos. We have the rose color for our Neon-based drinks and the smoke color for our Bear Hug-based drinks. More Chemexes, Kalitas, Acaia scales, and Fellow kettles. We’re also using Square’s new register and so far, so great.

What’s something you’re especially excited about for the space that folks might not notice at first glance?

I’m especially proud of the thought that went into this space in terms of accessibility. I know ADA requirements will address a baseline of accessibility considerations, but we wanted to push it further in terms of thoughtfulness. One example is that we put the best seat at our bar at wheelchair height and included another chair right alongside it for a friend or special someone. The rest of the bar bumps up to the traditional bar height. I couldn’t think of any bars around that someone in a wheelchair could pull up to and it’s been one of my greatest joys in the space to see it when it’s used. We’re currently arranging a third party accessibility audit of all our shops to learn how we can better make our spaces accessible to all. More than anything coming from this interview, I’d love to encourage everyone out there to consider doing an accessibility audit of their spaces if they haven’t already.

What’s your favorite coffee right now in the Dogwood line-up?

I am a total sucker for our Andrade family coffee from Colombia. We’ve purchased all of their exported coffee since 2012 and do some day lot separations of the best days. It ends up supplying us with an almost year-round supply of constantly arriving small vac-packed bricks of stunning coffee. We roll out one day lot after another and they are a consistent favorite of mine. We’re on one lot right now that just has the juiciest tropical flavors—it’s such a satisfying cup! 

Your previous HQ space was full of delightful nick-nacks and tchotchkes—we partied there a full time and the space had so much personality. How did you transfer that spirit into a new home?

I love trying to figure out fun little surprises to add throughout our spaces. Things you might not always notice in coming once, but the more you come, the more you might discover. In this space we have a full glassed-in room (racquetball court-esque) dedicated to just playing ping pong. It has a real tennis court floor with a center stripe, and the only music in the room comes from a custom Mixtape (Mixtape is also a blend of ours) cassette we made that’s played on an 80’s JVC Boombox.  

We have two bathrooms in our space; one has this metallic tiger pattern wallpaper and only plays “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat and includes an early Balboa cardboard cutout on the back of the door, the other has a gold chain foil wallpaper and includes a vintage large photo of Run DMC, only plays “My Adidas” on repeat and has a vintage pair of Jam Master Jay Superstars hanging from their laces on a pipe running across the ceiling. I also had a pair of baby Superstars glued down to a lower shelf on a diaper changing table in the room, but someone already stole those, sadly. I think bathrooms are an easy place to have some fun with, maybe it can just catch someone off guard a little bit and make them smile.

Another fun spot is hard to explain without seeing, but is essentially a combination of a mirrored multi-angle wall, a glass wall and a wallpapered wall. The wallpapered wall is a reflective mylar galaxy design that then has a suspended ceramic astronaut and a separate small rotating globe coming off the wall. About five feet across from that is the multi-angled mirrored wall that reflects back into the retail space through the large glass wall that separates the spaces. Oh forget it! Too hard to explain. It’s a big mirrored wall that reflects the customers back into the space. They bring the color, the movement, the dynamism to the space, and at just the right angle for them as they walk by, they’re reflected back into this deep cosmic space.

A final little touch of fun is we’ve adorned a wall in our cupping room with all the national soccer scarves we could find from countries we buy coffee from. The only bummer is a quick realization that East Africa needs some better representation on the world soccer stage.

Are you going to make more hockey pucks?

We just made some new ones inspired by the old Minnesota North Stars logo. Kevin is our production manager here and one heck of a designer! He’s done a lot of designs for us, and this is one of my personal favorites. We like them as tamp mats, paper weights, and the obvious as hockey pucks.

The Minnesota (and specifically Twin Cities) coffee scene is really special—lots of personality, lot of cafes. What makes the coffee culture in your part of the US so great?

The Twin Cities at its best can pair humility with quality, something special from both the product and the experience. We do have a lot of great coffee here and some really wonderful shops. We’re also home to Cafe Imports, Mill City Roasters and the Northern Coffee Alliance, which are obviously huge assets here to the coffee community. We really have world-class restaurants (currently three women chef James Beard finalists representing us), baking (Rustica, Baker’s Field, Sunstreet, Patisserie 46, Black Walnut), and beverage communities (too many distilleries, cocktail rooms & breweries to name).

We’re also home to some people doing really special things, like Sean Sherman, author of The Sioux Chef’s Indigenous Kitchen and a personal hero of mine, who is revitalizing Native American cuisine and currently building a new project here called the Indigenous Food Lab; Steve Horton, a gifted baker who has brought flour milling back to Minneapolis, sourcing various grains from local small farmers, stone milling it right here in Minneapolis and then baking naturally-leavened breads in a wood-fired oven; Tony Querio at Spyhouse, winner of the 2106 US Roasting championship; and the team at Gutter Punk, who works to provide employment and development for youth experiencing homelessness.

We’re very fortunate to be surrounded by such a gifted and collaborative community.

Thank you. 

The new Dogwood Coffee HQ and coffee bar is located at 1209 Tyler Street NE, Minneapolis. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Jordan Michelman (@suitcasewine) is a co-founder and editor at Sprudge Media Network. Read more Jordan Michelman on Sprudge.

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