#I might actually make Mystery and Poetry 'sisters'

[mokeonn]

Man I gotta get started on that dnd comic idea I've had for a while because if yall like Poetry yall are REALLY gonna like Mystery

[mistigrisunshine]

spuffy fic rec

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

(Unintended) You Could Be by ashcrashed [14k]

No, she hadn’t lost her mind. Because the reasons that made Spike the actual worst also made him the right one for the job.

Domino Effect by Anaross [15k]

Spike slips away unnoticed after Angel gives Buffy the amulet that might help in the final battle and runs directly into a tearful Buffy with a message from the future. AU after End of Days.

Monky Business by Girlytek [18k]

Retconning Dawn is harder than it looks.

In Remission by Quinara [19k]

In the five years Spike's been missing, the world around Buffy has irrevocably changed. The general population has woken up to vampires' existence and the kill count has dropped way down. She's sharing a house with a soulless vampire, still going by the name of Faith. But what does Spike have to do with it? And what does it mean for their future?

Devouring Time by Sigyn [20k]

An apocalypse has ravaged the world. Buffy has lost her friends, and her beloved Spike, and wants nothing more than to die, to rest, but immortality denies her that chance. With nothing more than her scythe and a hint of possibility, she seeks out a goddess of time, who offers her the chance to enter a universe of her own past, to choose a champion and save the world. Buffy knows who she would choose. But how can this Spike, paralyzed, filled with rage, and still in love with Drusilla, possibly be a champion for life, for light, and for the slayer he hates? Only time will tell.

Bring On Christmastime by bewildered [21k]

Welcome, Gentle Readers! Have you ever wondered the true meaning of Christmas? I know I have. But never fear, I, Andrew Wells -- having been privileged to bear witness to a Christmas miracle, in this the year Anno Domini Two Thousand and Two -- shall now share with you the answer, a tale that will warm the cockles of your cold, cold heart and fill you to the brim with tingly, pepperminty Christmas spirit.

There's something about Anne by Frillyria [44k]

Anne is just a regular girl until a not-so-regular boy gets a hold of her - she is thrown into a life outside her control, and has to do what she can to survive - and to choose hope over fear and distrust.

nothing safe is worth the drive (follow you home) by SummerFrost [61k]

Here's the deal: Buffy's got no idea how to beat Glory, or how they're gonna book it across the country in a moldy RV without anyone killing each other, especially now that someone broke one of the beds—and the thought of going home again kinda makes her wanna cry. The one thing she knows is that Spike would follow her anywhere, even like this.

The Key is Donnie Summers by Girlytek [121k]

Response to tempestt's challenge, what if Dawn were Donnie, if the monks had created a brother for Buffy instead of a sister? --complete through Season 5--

Liebestod by Iamblichus [149k]

They really should have known the First Evil wasn't done with them after Sunnydale… Enter: Time-travel, mysterious prophesies, and lots of poetry. BtVS Post-Season 7; Angel AU Season 5. All's well that ends well.

[jomiddlemarch]

A letter always seemed to me like immortality

Everyone Diana wanted to write to was dead.

Walter, what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago, at Courcelette if his last letter to Rilla was to be believed; Diana had often wondered whether he had already considered himself a dead man walking before the day of the last battle, the boy he’d been destroyed beyond repair or rebirth.

Aunt Leslie, whom she’d found it easier to talk to than her own mother, perhaps because she’d also had a brother she adored. Perhaps because she’d left Glen St. Mary and never missed it. 

Perhaps because Leslie liked whiskey better than tea, newspapers better than poetry. 

Una, who’d been too pale since she barely survived nursing her father and stepmother through the Spanish flu, who’d been someone everyone underestimated or decided to treat as a martyr, who would not have judged Di the way her own sisters would. 

Rosalind Foyle, whom she’d had to ask about as discreetly as she could, counting on her general reception as a cheerful and polite Canadian, not much like a bossy Yank, to yield her the few details she’d squirreled away. An artist, a mother. A beauty. Better-bred than her husband, well-liked, she’d had elegant hands and never forgot to wear gloves.

Diana only wore gloves to operate and if an actual gale was blowing in a blizzard.

Who had thought all she wanted was to go to France, to make something of her life that would last her the rest of it. That might make the rest of it of a duration she could bear, an end her family could cope with or justify why she’d never return to PEI.

Dear Una, You’re the best one to write to, I think. The one who’d mind the least, like it the most. The least awkward for me to imagine reading this, the least likely to tell me something I don’t want to know. I leave for France in a few weeks and now I don’t want to go. Or rather, I do and then I don’t. There’s something holding me in England now, something to do with Walter, a mystery. Men, who’ve died. A man who’s alive, very much so.

A man I want to know. His name is Foyle. Christopher. He knew Walter, said Walter knew him as Kit. Everyone calls him Foyle or sir or Superintendent. Christopher. Oh Una, I thought this was behind me. That it was something I’d never have to deal with, some sort of consolation of being a woman in a world missing a generation of men. I thought I wouldn’t know this and that was a relief, watching you and Rilla and Nan. Faith. Mary. I thought it was fair, that I’d never know heartbreak like this. And now there’s Christopher. A half-dozen dead men. Walter’s poem. And France, waiting for me. I have to go, I know that, but how do I go wanting to stay here, a place I can’t call home. Wanting to come back.

Christopher. I like writing his name because I oughtn’t say it often. That’s what a young girl does, lovesick, dull, embarrassing herself, making everyone around her smile behind their hands unless it’s Miss Cornelia, scolding you for making a fool of yourself and for what, a man? What’s a man worth, I ask you—can’t you hear her say it, tart, ready to wash her hands of us��� I don’t care what a man’s worth, Una. Just Christopher. And I can’t answer the question, not to satisfy Miss Cornelia or you or myself.

You’d write me back something comforting, if you could. If you hadn’t died before your time, twice over, after the telegram, after the epidemic. I should have insisted you leave before me or with me. I should have told your father you were worth more than all the rest of them put together or made Dad send you away to convalesce, somewhere warm, where you might have lolled about, turning brown in the sun. I’ve said I’ll go to France and sew up the men who need sewing up. Cut off the parts that need cutting off. I’ve said that’s my life, my vocation, as important as Mother’s poetry, as Walter’s, as the babies Jem delivers and the columns Ken Ford writes, and it must be but now there’s murder and Christopher to contend with, a dozen mysteries at the heart of me. For it seems I’ve a heart after all, Una. It beats and beats and leaps when it oughtn’t. It will break, I know it shall.

Christopher. I’ll take a dream in lieu of a letter. A flower, out of place, in lieu of a word. Answer me if you can, Una. You can’t and I know that, but I’ll still hope, silly Di Blythe.

She put the letter in an envelope but left it unsealed and unaddressed.

Left the envelope in an otherwise empty drawer of the desk in her flat. If she didn’t return from France, well, that didn’t bear thinking about too closely. If her papers were sent back to Canada, her father would likely burn the letter rather than let her mother see it unless if gave it to Nan, thinking her twin would derive some comfort and, happily married to Jerry, the bonny wife and mother Di had not made of herself, could weather any pang it gave her.

If somehow it ended up with Christopher, he’d know how she’d once felt.

She could make that happen, writing his name across the white field of the envelope, but that was too much like a dare, and for all she was her father’s daughter, she still had her mother’s wise fear of the fey.

She’d written his name enough. She’d hope she’d come back to say it.

[7k9sinthee]

Random headcanons;

⌑ Nsfw/Sfw?: SFW

⌑ Reader?: No

⌑ Genre?: Fluff, headcanons

⌑ Editted?: in the process...

Characters: Romeo, Juliet, Tybalt, Benvolio

ㄨ Romeo

⁺ Although extremely stupid- as exhibited from his irrational behavior, I believe he actually learns quite quickly.

⁺ When he was dancing at the Capulet part (1968 film), he learned quickly how to dance, although a bit poorly.

⁺ Anyways, he'd be the type to mess up a bit, glance over to someone else doing the same thing and then copy off from them.

Has probably tripped once or twice and always snaps his head back to blame someone for tripping. (Tybalt has been there once or twice...)

Secret handshakes with Mercutio and Benvolio- sometimes making one that requires all three present at once.

Everytime he's scolded his brain just. Flatlines. He literally doesn't take anything in. (Although a lesson not to do whatever got him in trouble in the first place.)

Plucks flowers from gardens to gift to Mercutio/Benvolio as a joke- more seriously to Juliet (..or yourself, if you'd like).

Every time he writes letters to specifically his friends, he adds a small " ! " to his signature.

Has so many inside jokes..

If he were to fall/trip, he'd fall right on his face. I don't make the rules. (I do)

When Romeo is happy, he always has a little pep in his step- like he's all giddy and happy.

Scratches his head when he's confused.

Seems like the type to be writing something and then accidentally misspell the easiest word ever.

Has a habit of just dozing off, leaving a lot of his friends confused

Sneaks out a bit, not a lot like Mercutio may but a reasonable amount to either meet up with friends or just for himself.

Writes horrible poetry that Benvolio and Mercutio support.

Definitely is the type to have a bedtime and tell his friends, "I can not come, as the moon rests high in the sky and beckons for me to sleep!"

Sneezes like a little girl imo

He definitely has a goofy, silly little smile.

Juliet

I just know she smells like flowers every day- how she does it? Remains a mystery..

So many little jokes with Nurse that no one else would know about.

Doesn't openly call Nurse "mom" but she enjoys to refer to Nurse as she would a mother rather than her biological mother.

Also kind of clumsy, she couldn't carry a bucket full of only water to save her.. (💔)

Actually sometimes indulges in reading poems time to time.

Very, very much the type to pick a flower and smell it.

Loves to pick up flowers, pedals, feathers, etc.

Probably has a collection of dried up flowers gifted to her over time.

Juliet really enjoys incorporating little cute things in her outfits!

Views Tybalt as an older brother rather than her father's cousin.

Makes references to things only Nurse knows so it leaves everyone else much confused- and on rare occasions Tybalt might get it, too.

Picks up her dress when she runs, like a princess.

Definitely the type to be like, "Excuse me. Mind your manners..." whenever she hears someone curse.

Whenever she sees Romeo, she faces fully towards him and holds her hands out - and he comes to pick her up and spin her like a little ballerina !!

Has attempted to draw/paint multiple times before, and whenever done- Lord Capulet always hangs it up with much pride no matter if it looks "funky."

Tybalt

"Grab me my rapier"

Definitely the type to take great pride in his swords

Actually, seems like the type to keep a GIANT sword collection.

He's definitely the type to overhear conversions in secret but then give the fattest side eyes/disgusting glares.

Tybalt 100% has his lips sealed with any secret. Never could get anything out of him.

Juliet actually hides behind Tybalt quite often (not usually physically), and Tybalt isn't afraid to defend his younger sister.

Also, 100% defends Nurse, or rather any woman in his life. He's most definitely a woman's boy.

Has the most sly grin you'll ever see in your life.

His deep voice actually very often scares people, so depending on who he's talking to; he'll either lower his volume and attempt to speak softer or keep speaking in much confidence.

He'll soften his voice for the nicer, quieter folk and speak loudly for the annoying and cocky guys.

Little bitty scars all over him from him attempting to perfect his sword fighting skills.

Very often flaunts off and attempts to look flashy and show-offish.

Even though he's old enough and pretty mature, he'll never ever consider drinking or smoking. He believes it's far too disgusting for himself.

Although Nurse isn't Tybalts true mother- Tybalt will have moments where "momma Nurse" slip out.

Actually kinda enjoys keeping things neat in order - in his room at least, outside, he doesn't mind getting a little messy.

On that topic... Tybalt very often helps out Nurse with chores and such, but no one really notices because he doesn't want to be seen like that (question mark)

The definition of wet soggy cat

Other than that- he just is overall very sweet and polite.

Benvolio

Definitely the type to write little poems or works of literature but always puts it to the side to "continue later"-

He never finishes them and usually Romeo would come by and read those works out to Benvolio as a way to just tease.

Has very, very specific humor- he only really laughs at inside jokes.

Of course, he'll have a nice laugh at a funny joke but, inside jokes are what really get him.

The type to accidentally snicker at the wrong moment and have to excuse himself. (😭)

Though this would only be around friends, he most definitely can control himself from laughing around Lord Montague and such.

Very polite fellow

Seems like the type to like cross his hands when sitting down and he sits down very politely and tightly-

He doesn't want to take up much space on benches anyways.

If he was a cat, he'd be that one cat with an apple that just sits there all polite getting pet by a giant wooden spoon.

Very gentle with everything and everyone. Either physically, emotionally, or verbally-

Despite being extremely polite, he is the one that has the best insults ("thee mother looks like a yellow belly, tavern hopping maniac, it's no surprise thou looks alike!", also said in the most polite way possible)

Has a nice, gentle voice. Slightly accented, though, unlike many.

The hat he usually wears - the one seen in act 1 (1968 film) - is one from long ago.

It was gifted to him, and he constantly wore it when he was a teen-ish, but it was a bit too big, so it'd cover quite a bit of his face.

Longer hair >>>

Somehow, has extremely beautiful, long lashes.

He strangely enough seems like the one to get hurt least often, but when he does, it's like the worst thing to ever happen. (Que Benvolio accidentally falling out a window)

Picks up little branches and sticks to collect randomly ?? He doesn't really do anything with them. The sticks either end up getting thrown out or forgotten about.

The type to be writing something and then accidentally slip up and create a massive mark in the middle of the paper without a way to hide it.

Has maybe fallen out a window before ?

Benvolio has so many unnecessary items laying around in his home

He has a collection of beads/rocks of sorts- all very polished and shiny.

Just a friendly reminder that these are all headcanons 🫶

[luckyqueenreign]

Omg, i am more and more convinced that our current LI will be kicked off the show tomorrow. Why?

1. Same story with all possible LIs at the start. So we basically just chose a look not a character. That has to mean something. I am thinking that means that all available LI must have the same plot twist coming. Otherwise it does not make sense. It is too early for lazy writing.

2. They are not going to take out a girl so soon. It must be a boy. A recoupling should be around the corner, too. Will be interesting to see if we will get another boy bombshell or a girl will be kicked off then.

3. But what stuck most with me: After the forced coupling with our twin the LI tells MC "this changes nothing" and we still get lovey dovey scenes between MC and LI. Not even the typical "spending time with new partner" or less scenes with LI. No, we get "I am stuck on you" and "all eggs in your basket" and about the same amount of time with LI ...Sooooo where is the drama if we just carry on like nothing happened and even being in a different couple does not stop the "Love".... Take Out the LI.

Ahhh, the drama :)

nonny I unforch agree with literally everything you said 😭😬😩 and if this actually does happen im 100% restarting so my original couple is Ryan LOL...not bc I want Lewie this playthrough but bc I'd rather hear about Lewie's football career over Ryan's dumb poetry about his dick 💀

This season already feels more like previous seasons 2 and 4 if we look at when Hazeem went home, I believe it was Volume 3 😬😬 so if we go by that the likelihood of them sending someone home this volume or early volume 4 is V high 🫣

and kicking out our first LI - after we were coupled with them for 37 seconds and they were stolen away by our sister would be perfect drama shitstorm.

EEEKKKKKKK just had a thought what if THATS who mystery man is???????? Our LI that gets dumped, comes back at casa....fb 100% knows which assets they're going to "leak" and get the fandom excited about. They leak images of the challenges because knowing that movie night or the baby challenge is happening isnt a massive storyline point and they know it will just make us happy knowing that those challenges are coming. So tagging the hidden islander "mystery man" and using a generic pic for now might just be the placeholder because we will all have different guys as the "mystery man". I know alot of us want it to be zeph but would they reallyyyy go down the ex route again??? especially when we all HATED it 🤔 AND I feel like a lot of people will be upset that the original LI they all loved was dumped...personally idc bc I want Ozzy anyway, but I know soooo many people would be upset by this!!

[classicslesbianopinions]

inbox cleanse:

She turned into a tree. It was a Mystery. It must have been. Nothing else made sense, because I didn’t understand it. I hate not understanding something. I put myself through all of this because I didn’t understand why she turned into a tree—why she chose to turn into a tree. Her name was Daphne, and so is the tree she became, my sacred laurel with which poets and victors crown themselves.

I asked my sister Artemis first. “Why did you turn Daphne into a tree?” She just looked at me with her eyes full of moonlight. She’s my fullblooded sister, which you’d think would count for something, but we couldn’t be more different. She was ice-cold, with one arched brow, reclining on a chilly silver moonscape.

“She implored me. She wanted it so much. And you were right there. I had to do something drastic.”

“Her son would have been a hero, or even a god.”

“You really don’t understand about virginity,” she said, uncurling and extending an ice-cold leg. Virginity is one of Artemis’s big things, along with bows, hunting and the moon.

“She hadn’t made a vow of virginity. She hadn’t dedicated herself to you. She wasn’t a priestess. I would never—”

“You really are missing something. It might be Hera you should be talking to,” Artemis said, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Hera hates me! She hates both of us.”

“I know.” Artemis was poised now, ready to be off. “But what you don’t understand falls within her domain. Ask Athene.” And she was off, like an arrow from a bow or a white deer from a covert, bounding across the dusty plains of the moon and swooping down somewhere in the only slightly less dusty plains of Scythia. She hasn’t forgiven me for the moon missions being called the Apollo Program when they should have been called after her.

My domain is wide, both in power and knowledge. I am patron of inspiration, creativity, poetry and music. I am also in charge of the sun, and light. And I am lord of healing, mice, dolphins, and sundry other specialties I’ve gathered up, some of which I’ve devolved to sons and others, but all of which I continue to keep half an eye on. But one of my most important aspects, to myself anyway, has always been knowledge. And that’s where I overlap with owl-carrying Athene, who is goddess of wisdom and knowledge and learning. If I am intuition, the leap of logic, she is the plodding slog that fills in all the steps along the way. When it comes to knowledge, together we’re a great team. I am, like my sister Artemis, a hunter. It’s the chase that thrills me, the chase after knowledge as much as the chase after an animal or a nymph. (Why had she preferred becoming a tree?) For Athene it’s different. She loves the afternoon in the library searching through footnotes and linking up two tiny pieces of inference. I am all about the “Eureka” and she is all about displacing and measuring actual weights of gold and silver.

I admire her. I really do. She’s a half-sister. All of us Olympians are pretty much related. She’s another virgin goddess, but unlike Artemis she doesn’t make a fetish of her virginity. I always thought she was just too busy working on wisdom to get involved with all that love and sex stuff. Maybe she’d get around to it in a few millennia, if it seemed interesting at that point. Or maybe she wouldn’t. She’s very self-contained. Artemis is always bathing naked in forest pools and then punishing hunters who happen to see her. Athene isn’t like that at all. I’m not sure she’s ever been naked, or even thought about it. And nobody would think about it when they’re around her. When you’re around Athene what you think about is new ways of thinking about fascinating bits of knowledge you happen to have, and how you might be able to fit them together to make exciting new knowledge. And that’s so interesting that the whole sex thing seems like a bit of relatively insignificant trivia. So there were a whole host of reasons I was reluctant to bring up the Daphne incident with her.

But I really was burning with the need to know why Daphne turned into a tree in preference to mating with me.

maybe if anon read the just city they'd stop asking weird questions of internet strangers and start asking INTERESTING questions of internet strangers

[all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus]

listened to white light/white heat by the velvet underground for the first time. been a while since i listened to a record that actively wants to kill me

i can't decide if this album's aged brilliantly or terribly. obviously it's legendarily unlistenable and abrasive, and when it was released there was pretty much nothing that sounded anything like it. but the velvets are mega famous now, and whole genres have been invented based off their vibe. so, this album isn't anywhere near as shocking and difficult as it was back in the day, because so many artists since have copied it or deliberately exceeded it, and i can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing

because, being realistic, there's very little in the way of actual songs here. the title track is a blatant rewrite of i'm waiting for the man (although i think i actually like the rewrite more purely because it's a little more complex, i.e. it has more than two chords), here she comes now is a pleasant (if horny) breather. the rest is... otherwise, and i can't help but wonder if divorcing it of all that shock factor mutes some of its power

it certainly doesn't mute all of it, though. side 2 is where it gets real interesting, with i heard her call my name basically just being a vehicle for some wild, feedbacky guitar soloing, and i don't mind that one bit (it's a mystery to me why lou reed plays so little guitar on his records, he's really rather good at it), and sister ray...

i mean, if you're reading this i'm going to assume you're at least vaguely familiar with the band (if not, i'm amazed you got this far but hi!), but depending on your tastes a seventeen minute one chord jam with no production to speak of, featuring someone yelling semi-improvised (at least it feels like it to me, there's no way he wrote that fuckin ding-dong line so many times) poetry about an orgy and two guys just wailing madly at their instruments, for (cannot stress this enough) seventeen minutes might well be your nightmare, or your idea of heaven. as usual, i'm in between, but i did very much like it; i was flagging around nine minutes on but it gets real ferocious from that point on, and i kind of really dig the vibe. it feels like the musical equivalent of a drugged up, chaotic party careening out of control, particularly when reed begins shaking up his delivery, stuttering, slowing down, speeding up, and his and cale's soloing, as well as the ever-increasing tempo, paints the same picture

there's two other pieces, one of which is blackly hilarious and one terrifying. i couldn't tell you a thing about the music of the gift, given it's slammed right into one channel and behind the spoken monologue, but the monologue makes up for it. honestly i think most of that comes down to cale's dry delivery (with a very lovely welsh brogue, i might add), with one bit in particular not, uh, ageing too well, but there's a nice subtle wit to the prose as well, with a few choice double entendres (reed 100% knew what he was doing with "rough hands gripped his package," c'mon). not sure how much relisten factor there is to it though

lady godiva's operation, on the other hand, uh, fucking hell. if you've not heard it before, a) again, i'm a little confused why you're reading this far but cool and b) go listen to it now before i spoil it. anyway, i was expecting it to be a relative oasis of pleasantness, and the first half is alright, i guess. nice melody, nice singing from cale, but it's very repetitive. then reed comes in, like he's forcing cale out the way. then it just starts building, the instruments desyncing, the heart monitor sound effect, the vocals sliding up and down in the mix, and the song disintegrates around you, and it's legitimately frightening. again, it's the aural equivalent of a surgery going wrong and dissolving into chaos, only experienced through a fog of drugs and anaesthethic, and it's supremely unpleasant in a fashion that's impressive, but which i haven't decided if it's actually enjoyable or not. thank fuck for here she comes now, which is nothing special but you need to hear just to recover

this is certainly an experience, and i think it's an experience anyone interested in rock music should have. i'd put it comfortably third in their canon (behind the two self-titled-ish albums and ahead of loaded, ftr), and i'm glad i've filled in that gap in my collection

[mantrabay]

The Greatest Performance Of My Life 44

(Dedicated to my sister Jay )

The greatest performance of my life.

Howard’s proud piece de resistance award on Poetry Nook for my magnum opus “Rush Amid The Rapids” in their daily member section.

After endless hours of toil, tribulation, energy sapping endeavour and quite a few rejection slips of the email inbox type.

One invests as I did so much effort, enterprise, entreaty to fruitless no avail initially,

despite patient guidance and sagacious tutorship from wondrous sister, Jay Pallen, who helped me navigate the perilous ocean,

we must sometimes swim without a life jacket in the area of imaginative thought.

From work in progress to sophisticated stylish sweep drawn to a quelle surprise denouement,

Sister Jay was my ship’s captain.

But first things first.

The plot entailed a multi-layer

mystical entanglement about suspect demarcations between an urban dweller’s pressure cooker lifestyle and that green leaf tranquil environment found in nature.

An accountant, Landon, who was torn between two stools,

desperately seeking something deeper but wasn’t really sure if such depth actually exists.

Of course the other aspect of this mind-boggling jigsaw was an audacious couple who ran this Eco publishing company in an idyllic otherworld hub.

They parted ways after a very early cordial relationship but still kept in touch.

A dark secret was being kept which Landon could only guess at.

The subject of life in all its forms was the one common thread between this mysterious pair and said deep life meaning accountant.

There were many reasons why this Landon decided to spring a sudden visit.

A crucial overall element if the truth be told.

Gaps between visits can have so many strange effects.

But why were they (the couple) so furtive?

An intangible cone of silence that worsens with time.

Jay, suggested that I paint an elaborate tour-de-force natural world canvass to add intrigue and spectrum colour.

Nettles, rainbow trout arches,

clubmoss plants and other ornate structures.

Against labyrinthine ancient rock form, overbearing mountain peak, the bizarre appearance then vanishment of an elk as the watchtower mountain gazed on what would soon hatch a peculiar cataclysmic curtain closer.

Jay’s astute analytical asides left me thunderstruck at every single turn.

Over copious cream coffees and velvet vegan bars, tasty tea and pistachio protein pecks I listened avidly to her:

“Don’t lose your core narrative or momentum.

Make sure there are abrupt surprise scene shifts and never waste an opportunity to add portrait plenty pigment.”

An extract from my creation which Jay Pallen always emphasises would be this one :

“The couple, Chesney(Husband) and Chelsea(Wife) resided in a cherry wood log cabin with tongue-and-groove cladding and a pine timber roof lantern peering pensively into the maze-like river down below.

This dwelling was perched at the side of a mountain.”

A woman of immense giftedness, Jay, forensically screens each phrase, for potential catharsis and climax building.

A gradual sense of ecstasy descends as Jay, angel and mentor, to my most ambitious project yet wisely observes : “Jump start your target audience.

They mustn’t doze off.”

My sister again : “What may seem fascinating to you might just as easily be incorrigibly boring to others.”

By way of example another passage from this tome :

“A circus of the wilds continued to intensify outside as species vied with species in a fanfare of egos.

Chirping Robin Red Breasts at the window,

crickets in high chorus as they scrape their wings behind a Vulcan steam curtain.

Horseshoe Bats that bob and weave around rainbow shafts.

Such delights as Daddy Long Legs with their Cancan dances on sodden green patches.”

A blissful whisper emanates from Jay : “Keep littering your storyline with little hints and clues. This life obsessed couple are in denial.”

Chelsea had a quaint baby twang, Chesney a roguish infant zeal.

They seemed to have one intense obsession with children’s toys.

“Landon did notice kids gadgets dangling over cube modular storage units.

Pink Salmon quilted eiderdowns, pillows with children sleeping under moonlit skies, and Milky Way throw blankets completing this dreamland scene.”

Sustaining short attention spans can be an obstacle as Jay indeed took every opportunity to point out.

The life energy, lifespan and this secret!

Tease, taunt and trick the target readership, Jay Pallen, with that magic ripple charm laugh, our family Einstein and guru.

Especially when absorbing the description below as torrid tumult to furious finale.

“Landon limped outside to an

ear-splitting din and a mist-laden detritus that merged into pockets of streams steeplechasing each other.

A slimy frog vaults and casts a damp viscous oil spray in his direction into the bargain.”

Why did Chesney and Chelsea treat Landon like a child?

Why were this couple imitating mannerisms one associates with children?

We’re there other revelations in store?

Landon discovered in a letter near the edge of some nascent river that Chelsea was barren, incapable of having children according to their doctor and they didn’t want to face such dilemmas when managing their life publishing company.

Chesney and Chelsea offered Landon a position as accountant and editor.

Was Landon being used as a family substitute?

Landon himself receives a text from his company that his post was in danger.

So the job offer might seem like someone’s hidden hand.

A curious convergence had now arrived.

All three characters jump with glee into a turbulent cascade singing their hearts out as that sky tower mountain watches imperiously and the elk reappears.

Maybe that elk knew something after all!

Rush Amid The Rapids was published on Poetry Nook 16th February 2020

How Jay and I rejoiced due to her pivotal role in the greatest performance of my life!

Photograph and piece all my own work @mantrabay

I appreciate in advance everyone on Tumbrl who considers and rates this post

[pettyvxbes]

Colson Baker x Reader - Ocean Eyes III

This was originally only supposed to be three parts, but I have so many ideas. . . I might be getting a little carried away. If anyone is interested in being included on the tag list for ocean eyes drop me a comment. ❤ Btw, ya'll rock, and I'm so thrilled that you're digging where this story is going as much as I am!!

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL COFFEE DEALER

Colson had insisted on going to a coffee shop across town, even though there were plenty of great coffee shops near Shaker Square that you two had frequented on your previous Saturday adventures. He initially suggested that you ride with him, but you declined the offer and opted to drive yourself, much to your dismay. You considered making a wrong turn to head back to your sister's house several times as you followed closely behind him but decided against the outlandish idea.

Pulling into the parking lot, you immediately noticed the sizeable pink skull painted on the side of the brick building. It read "Drink. Eat. Work. Meet" arched across the top with "The" on the forehead, a 2 and 7 in separate eye sockets, "club" on the chin, and the most clever part was the nose which was a cup of steaming coffee. The aesthetic was everything, and you quickly understood why Colson had wanted to bring you to this specific coffee shop. It was edgy and artistic, kind of like you, and he knew you would love it.

"This place is fucking awesome." You gushed, taking in the surrounding interior. The walls were painted pink and accented with black. There were skulls in various places throughout the room, and directly in front of you behind a large circular counter were the associates, wearing "Coffee Dealer" tees, waiting patiently to take your order. Capturing every aspect of the shop, you noticed the music playing. It was a synth-pop-R&B beat accompanied by the voice of Chris Brown and Usher.

"You gon' be my baby Love me, love me crazy Tell me you with it Baby, come and get it Maybe try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

It was one of those songs that stuck in your memory and could take you back to a specific time and place. You looked over at Colson to find him looking back at you, and you were instantly transported to that cold January night eleven years ago, the night you had first met Colson.

The air was crisp, and the night sky was aglow with the bright city lights of Atlanta. You were visiting your best friend for what was left of your winter break at NYU. She couldn't wait to take you out on the town. So naturally, you both ended up at the Gold Room less than five hours after you had touched down in the Empire State of the South.

The Gold Room was fancy. Golden poles were lining a transparent window rail in the main seating area. Each roped-off section donned eccentric gold couches, chandeliers, and splashy tropical lighting, all of which highlighted the significance of those seated there. You happened to find yourself smack dab in the middle of the distinguished crowd, behind the velvet ropes. All thanks to your gorgeous best friend who had been casually seeing one of the Atlanta Hawks.

"Y/n, don't look now, but that guy over there has been staring at you since we walked in." Your best friend screamed into your ear over the loud music.

"Which one?" You questioned, waiting to turn and look.

"The blonde with the tattoos!" She paused, taking a sip of her drink. She could tell you were waiting for a more descriptive answer. "You'll know which one. He's fine as fuck!" She screamed, causing you to chuckle at her bluntness.

You casually turned to the side to look for the mystery guy, and you were quickly met with his blue eyes. You felt your cheeks flush a bit as he maintained eye contact.

You were beautiful in a way that the other girls in the club weren't. You were confident but not cocky, and your attire was modest but still sexy. You didn't need to be accepted by others, which was apparent in how you carried yourself. Your smile was beaming as you looked back at him, and Colson could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was captivated.

Your eye contact was broken by one of the tall basketball players in your section offering you a glass of champagne. You accepted the drink and made small talk for a moment before quietly excusing yourself to the ladies' room. At least that's what you told your friend, but if you were honest, you were actually looking for those blue eyes. You made your way slowly through the horde of people keeping your eye on the VIP section that the tattooed man occupied. You couldn't see him, so you wandered closer until you were stopped by a husky voice.

"Are you looking for something?" You turned, looking up into the blue eyes you had been searching for.

"Not anymore." You smirked. He was taken aback by your forward response, and you could tell by the look across his face that he was speechless. You chuckled at his expression. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't expecting you to say that, but I was hoping you would" He laughed. "I'm Colson."

"Y/n."

"Y/n, that's beautiful." He smiled at you. You couldn't tell if it was the champagne coursing through you or the fact that he was extremely handsome, but all you could think about was kissing him. The thought was soon pushed to the back of your mind as you began exchanging information about yourselves. Where you were from, what you were doing in Atlanta, your relationship status'. . .the basics. You two eventually found yourselves halfway through a game of 21 questions in a more private area of the club where you could actually hear each other speak.

"If you could have one 'do over' in your life, what would you do differently?" You inquired.

"Ooh, we're going there now?" He chuckled. "That's easy though, I wouldn't do anything over because then I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

“Smooth.” You chuckled at his cheesy answer.

“Yeah? You see what I did there?” He joked "Ok, my turn. . ." He changed the subject, trying to think of a question quickly. "If there was one piece of advice you could give, what would it be?" You thought for a moment before speaking.

"To always appreciate the little things in life."

"The little things?" he questioned, waiting for you to elaborate further.

"Yeah, you know, like early morning sunrises or late sunsets. The ones where you'll see an array of colors in the sky that you wouldn't normally see." You raved. "Or road trips and motorcycle rides, when you have music in your ears and the wind in your hair. Or the days when you're surrounded by your favorite people, the ones who make you realize that the world isn't such a cold, harsh place." You rambled, and he smiled like a fool.

"The little things that make you realize what life is about and what it means to be alive?" He pondered quietly, contemplating what you had said.

"Yes!" You extolled. "Appreciating the little things makes you enjoy where you are, right now, in the present."

"Enjoy where you are right now," He reiterated. "I like that" A comfortable silence settled in for a moment, and you could hear a catchy synth-pop-R&B beat surging through the room. The voices of Chris Brown and Usher were crystal clear.

"Who said you can't find love in a club? 'Cause I wanna tell them they wrong Come on, just baby, try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

You both let out a little chuckle at the lyrics, and the next thing you knew, his right hand was on the side of your face pulling you into him. The kiss was magic, chaos, and a little bit of poetry. You felt a fire deep in your bones, and he melted every part of you.

"Hey, Colson!" The barista greeted him, pulling you from your memory of the man standing next to you. You hadn't even noticed, but you two were still staring at each other, and you wondered if the same memory had crossed his mind too.

He turned towards the barista as your eyes continued to explore the coffee shop. That's when you saw it—a mural on the wall situated above black leather dome seats. In large pink letters, "Enjoy where you are right now." and it clicked - this was his coffee shop. . .and he still thought about that night, just like you.

Colson glanced back at you, preparing to order, you smiled at him, and yet again, he could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were still authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was still captivated.

II << 💀 >>

TAG LIST @canyoubuymetoast

[yehet-me-up]

Fractions of Tomorrow

Pairing: Zitao/Reader (female)

Word Count: 10,249

Rating/Warnings: PG13

Summary: They always say opposites attract but you and Tao are putting that theory to the test. He works nights at Flanagan’s, you work the crack of dawn shift at Starbucks. He wears leather jackets, sings in a rock band, and drives a motorcycle. You prefer Keds to Chucks, study poetry at UW, and ride a pastel purple bike across town. Luckily, he’s not someone who’s afraid of a challenge.

When Baekhyun dares you and Tao to test the idea that two people can fall in love in one night you don’t expect to care so much, so fast. And when the sun rises all you can hope is that he feels the same.

Part seven of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

February 28, 1997

His head aches, body still reeling from the alcohol he drank far too much of the night before. The line at Starbucks is endlessly long and he groans. If he was responsible he’d go to the grocery across the street and get a decent breakfast. But his brain needs a substitute for the gin he was coerced into last night by his friends and it will only accept caffeine as an offering. 

A saccharine song pours in from the speakers and people around him clear their throats or rustle in their pockets and the sheer noise of the morning grates against him. He’s a creature of the night; he finds other humans far more tolerable without the sun beating down on him. Only desperation pulled him from his hangover to acquire the nectar of the gods. He taps his foot and shrugs his jacket further up his body, hoping the collar will keep the bright light pouring in from the tall windows from reaching him. 

A sweet voice breaks through the din and he turns to watch you, drawn by the warmth of the sound. It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention. In the thriving ecosystem of the Exodus Mall everyone’s a friend of a friend of a cousin of someone and he distantly remembers you’re related to one of Baekhyun’s friends. 

Maybe it’s the way early mornings after late nights distort the world, making everything feel hazy like a dream. Maybe it’s the fact that he went home alone last night, yet again. Maybe it’s the bright, energetic shine in your eyes, astounding for the pre-eight-am time. Or maybe it’s the dimple in your cheek when you smile at the customer, writing his name on the cup and passing it to your co-workers. 

When the man moves aside and you turn your focus on Tao, for whatever reason, his intuition tells him to notice. Maybe it’s an illusion, but today feels different. You feel different. 

‘Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you?’ 

He opens his mouth, unsure what to say. For a long beat he simply observes you. The little hearts drawn around your name on your name tag. He rolls it around in his mind, matching your face with the word, almost saying it aloud. A dangerous proposition. A door he should leave shut. 

Someone coughs behind him and he shakes his head, stepping forward. ‘Just a big Americano please. As big as possible.’ His voice is thick and his throat dry. One day he’ll remember to drink a glass of water before bed after getting drunk.

You nod, reaching to the stack of cups. ‘A grande?’

He swallows to wet his throat. ‘Sure.’ 

‘Name?’ 

With a deep inhale he smells last night’s cologne still clinging to his skin. God he needs to get his shit together, he thinks with a sigh. His general state of dishevelment is even more noticeable next to you. He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles. 

‘Zitao,’ he says finally. 

‘Cute.’ You say it under your breath but he still hears. His eyes go wide, his sluggish mind coming awake. After handing the cup to your co-worker you say the total. ‘That’ll be four oh two please.’

Automatically he reaches into his pocket for his wallet and pulls out the five dollar bill. He knows he’s staring like an idiot but he can’t help it. You hand him his change and on reflex he drops it into the tip jar. Service industry solidarity, he thinks with a half-smile.

The smile on your face blossoms; tentative at first, it grows when his eyes meet yours again. ‘Thank you!’ You pull a small coffee can out from beside the register and hold it out to him. ‘Anyone who tips gets a poem.’ 

He stares at the can and the slips of paper neatly folded within. Amusement fills him and he reaches for one at random, his fingers brushing yours as he pulls back. The sensation makes him want to linger. How long has it been since he touched someone, in the daylight? Since he wanted to hold and be held? Tao tells himself it doesn’t matter. It can’t. He’s got plans to leave Seattle and he doesn’t need anything tethering him here.

Before he embarasses himself he slides the paper into his pocket with a nod and moves on down the line. As he waits for his drink he keeps his focus on you. The efficiency of your motions and the genuine happiness on your face as you take order after order on the busy Friday morning. People come and go around him but he leans against the wall, waiting, thinking. 

Finally his drink is done and the cup spreads heat along his chilled palms. The world is too sharp and demanding and the thought of a day full of errands on too little sleep followed by a full shift at the bar drags at him. But the smell of coffee and your smile and the mystery poem in his pocket are life preservers thrown to him today. He clings to them with both hands to keep himself afloat. 

On his way out he finally reads the poem you’ve gifted to him. The writing is done with small, neat lettering and he knows it’s yours. 

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.

There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.

You feel it, don’t you?

- Rumi

With a groan he pushes out the door with his shoulder, blinking on the too-bright sidewalk. It’s too early to feel so raw and exposed, he decides. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday July 18, 1997

You trail into Flanagan’s Pub after Baekhyun and your sister, Hitchcock. It’s not her real name, but she’s had the nickname so long it might as well be. As always, they argue about movies. As always, you’re the third wheel. Not that they’re actually dating. But everyone agrees they should. 

‘Come on, it was brilliant.’ Baekhyun waves his hands dramatically as you wind your way around the crowded bar after them. 

‘I’m not saying it wasn’t,’ she responds. They slide into a booth opposite each other and you follow after your sister. ‘All I’m saying is it’s unrealistic, that’s all.’

Baekhyun scoffs, offended. ‘As if realism was the point here.’ You unfold the drink menu while he carries on, undeterred. ‘I know you’re not a hopeless romantic like myself, but are you honestly telling me that you don’t think it’s possible?’ 

Tonight’s Friday-movie-night tradition was your first viewing of The Fifth Element and Korben and Leeloo’s instant connection has revived their years-long argument about love at first sight. You roll your eyes when your sister shakes her head, leaning forward to tease him. She’s told you about her crush on Baekhyun, her best friend. For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature. Methinks the lady doth protest too much…

‘Look at Before Sunrise,’ Baekhyun says with a click of his tongue. ‘One night and they fell in love.’

She hums and scans the menu. ‘So what? It’s just one night. Show me what happens ten years later. After they see each other with messy morning hair and when he leaves dishes in the sink or, I don’t know, when she bites her nails.’ Baekhyun huffs and she smothers a laugh. ‘Let’s see how that instant love does after it’s put to the test. I’m not saying it isn’t possible, I’m just saying one night doesn’t mean it will stand the test of time, that’s all.’ She folds her menu and rests her elbows on the table, looking incredibly smug. 

Baekhyun opens his mouth to argue but the server arrives and interrupts his tirade. ‘What can I get for you?’ 

The gravelly voice is familiar and your eyes widen in surprise when you see Tao towering over the table. Quickly you look away, back to the dark wood table. 

You’ve noticed him before - at Starbucks, at parties at Baek’s from a distance, at Moe’s ages ago - but tonight he’s so cleaned up you hardly recognize him. Gone are the bags under his eyes and the nervous, jittery, curmudgeon energy that seemed to hang over him like a dark cloud. Tonight his eyes are alert and crinkle at the corner when he smiles broadly and you can’t help but notice. A very bad idea. 

‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you. 

‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh. ‘Are you coming to Chan and Soo’s party tomorrow night?’ 

‘You know it. I wouldn’t miss your big send off. My man here is taking off on a national tour on Sunday. Local boy making it big!’ Baekhyun gives Tao a friendly punch on the arm before drumming his fingers on the table and raising a brow. ‘Since you’re here, maybe you can settle an argument for us.’ 

Tao darts a look to you and clears his throat. ‘Sure thing. Lay it on me.’

‘Do you believe you can fall in love with someone in one night?’ Baekhyun waggles his brows at your sister and she groans. ‘Like, soulmates burning-down-the world you’re the person I’ve waited for always Blockbuster kind of love.’ 

He tilts his head to the side, considering. After a moment he shrugs. ‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you. 

Baekhyun snorts and lounges back in the booth, resting his arm on the back of the seat. 'Good luck, buddy. You'd have better luck charming a brick wall. She only reads about love these days, Double Shot here is a bit gun-shy at putting it into practice again.’

You glare at Baekhyun, body going rigid at being called out. For as long as he's been your sister's best friend he's acted like a surrogate older brother to you. He vacillates between telling you it’s good you’re so focused on your studies and telling you that you're too serious, too focused on school and work. Since you got broken up with Baekhyun seems focused on the latter, always needling you to go out and have fun. But, as they say, once burned twice shy. 

You focus intently on your hands resting on the table and absolutely avoid looking at Tao. From the first time you rang him up at Starbucks you knew his gaze would see more than you'd like. He's the type to see through every bullshit line you give about how you’re fine being alone, fine with how things ended, fine fine fine. 

If life was kind the three of you would order and Tao would leave and that would be the end of it. You could safely stay in your cocoon and hide. But of course, life doesn't play fair. 

Tao sticks the pen behind his ear and folds his arms. ‘Is that a bet?’

Your cheeks warm and your heart races. Finally, you look up to him fully. 'Excuse me?' 

He shrugs and gives you a lopsided smile. 'If you're game, of course. What do you say, shall we put this to the test?' 

'You want to see if we'd fall in love in a night?' You're certain you look like a terrified animal. In a vain attempt to fold yourself back into someone confident you lean against the booth, pressing your feet to the ground and making your spine tall and straight. 'What makes you think you're even my type?'

‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’ 

God knows he probably is. Tall, handsome bad boy who sings like an angel, drives a stupidly hot motorcycle, and looks like he knows the fastest way to make you come undone with just a look. But charming is only skin deep and in return you want to see if there’s anything underneath it that would keep your interest. 

‘Fine, then.’ You hold out your hand. ‘I’ll take your bet.’ Stubborn, always so stubborn. Baekhyun giggles and claps excitedly as you grip Tao’s rough, much larger hand.  

Your sister leans across you to stare Tao down. 'Hang on. I'm not about to let her go off with some random dude. How do we know you're trustworthy?' Hitchcock has turned her interrogation mode on. ‘I’ve seen you around, but I don’t know you from Bruce Willis.’

He must have other tables to attend to, other things to do, but he rests his palms on the table and leans down to meet her glare. 'I'm an open book. Ask me anything.' The move brings him inches from you. He smells like whisky, the kind that burns, and you swallow instinctively in response. 

She narrows her eyes and hums. 'How old are you?' 

'Twenty three.' 

'Did you go to school?' 

He chuckles. 'High school. No need for college.'

'Why not?' You speak up, preparing for an argument. He looks like he could actually keep up with you and a spark of excitement grows low in your body.

'Between singing and bartending I make plenty of money.’ He answers you, not your sister. ‘Don't get me wrong, I respect an education. But I get far more inspiration from living life than from just reading about it.' 

You bristle. As a poetry major this feels like a personal attack. ‘Are you telling me you’ve never read anything that made you feel - I don’t know - inspired. Magical. Exposed?' You press your lips together, wishing you could gather the words back. 

Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’ 

His dancing eyes dart down to your lips. But then he straightens, pulling the pen out and readying it on the pad. You grip the table to avoid swaying towards him and almost hate him for how much of a magnetic pull he seems to have over you. 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?'

Baekhyun orders a Smirnoff Ice, delight pouring off him. Your sister narrows her eyes at Tao for a moment. Finally, she relents and orders a sex on the beach. You stare at the red plaid shirt tied around Tao’s hips and order something. An Appletini maybe? Your mind seems to have abandoned you but thankfully Tao nods and winds his way back through the crowd to the bar. In his absence you can breathe fully and look up to see Baekhyun smirking. 

‘What?’ you practically groan at him. 

‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’ 

Hitchcock kicks him under the table and he winces, reaching for his shin. They resume their discussion, transitioning to talking about their opening shifts at the theater tomorrow and how much they can reasonably drink tonight and still be functional in the morning. You drum your nails on the lacquered wood table and wonder if your heart is racing from the heat of the packed bar or from the prospect of Tao holding you to your bargain. 

The man himself comes back with drinks a moment later. When he slides the light green concoction across the table to you he tilts his head in question. ‘So, how about tonight?’ 

You choke on your sip and fight the burn in your throat. ‘Are you serious? So soon?’

He grins. ‘Why, did you want time to get ready? I think if we’re going to put it to the test it would have to be tonight. Also, I leave on Sunday morning, so the clock is ticking so to speak.’ 

‘But I work tomorrow at Starbucks. At the crack of dawn.’ You sputter, waving your hand in front of you. ‘I didn’t think you-’

‘Guess we should get started soon, then.' He winks again and you're tempted to throw your drink at him, just to get the upper hand. ‘I get off at nine.’ Without another word he puts the serving tray under his arm and leaves.

Your sister rolls her eyes. ‘You’re such a bad influence, Baek.’ 

He throws his arms out wide. ‘I can’t help it baby, I’m a lover. What can I say?’ 

She snorts and pats you on the back sympathetically. You down your drink in two swallows and absolutely refuse to look at Tao, Baekhyun, or your sister. Instead you pull some bills from your purse and push your way out of the bar before anyone can suggest anything else insane. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes you several tries to find a presentable outfit. It's been more than six months since that last fateful date and in the time between you’ve built a literal barrier around yourself, bundling up in sweaters and blankets at home, only emerging for work and class and Friday movie nights. 

Baekhyun's words come back to you as you frown and throw yet another outfit on the bed. Are you really a brick wall, impenetrable and cold? You weren't always, surely. Byron's 'and thus, the heart will break, yet brokenly live on' swims in your mind, still fresh from the finals you took just a few weeks ago. 

You don't feel broken, just stuck. Numb. Waiting. You hold a dress up to your body and wonder if your ex feels the same or if he, as the one who did the dumping, moved on instantly, and it's just the broken-up-with half that flails around trying to find new footing.

With an defiant press of your lips you sigh and settle on your favorite black and white checkered dress and white Keds. It’s a declaration of intent in a peter pan collar. Your ex always hated your clothes, what you chose to study, your music; everything about you screamed soft and he tried so hard to bend and form you into someone he wanted. 

But you are as you are - romantic and idealistic and sweet. You roll your eyes. It’s the truth, and you remind yourself that just because you didn’t match him doesn’t mean you have to change just to make someone else happy. The outfit screams innocence it dares Tao to judge you tonight. As if you care what he thinks. Which you definitely do not. 

You barely make it back in time to Flanagan’s. When you rush up Tao is pushing out of the bar onto the street. A thrill runs down your spine at his smile when he sees you. Your ex doesn't control you anymore, you remind yourself. You get to decide when you move on; when you stop mourning something that's dead and over and find something new. Even if it's not with Tao, tonight is an experiment. To see if you can handle a fresh start.

‘Hi,’ you start, breathless from your hurrying. 

'Hi yourself. You still game?' he asks, mischief in his eyes and hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 'If you want an out I won't hold it against you.' He looks you up and down and smirks, but doesn’t comment on your appearance.

In return you scan him as well. His hair is mussed just-so and his earrings match too well to be an accident. He’s trying too, even if his devil-may-care attitude would make others think he’s not. Everyone has an image they present to the world, tonight you’ll find if there’s substance behind Tao’s.

You press your tongue between your teeth and tilt your head at him. 'I'm ready to be surprised.' 

He barks out a laugh. ‘Fair enough. I’ll see what I can do’ 

Tao starts to move towards you across the sidewalk, but you hold out a hand at the level of his chest, stopping his movement. 'So, love, huh? There's not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?'

‘I belong only to myself. For now, at least.' He smiles and holds his arms out wide. His brows tug together suddenly. For a moment he looks unsure. Vulnerable. But the look is gone so fast you wonder if you imagined it. ‘What about you?’ 

You want to fold in on yourself and turn away, hiding. As if the stain of failure is written across your face. The words that were thrown your way like scarlet letters on your skin for him to see. Prude. Uptight. Tease. Your stomach churns and you’re glad you only had the one drink tonight. 

‘Single.’ You suck in a breath after you get the word out, like it stole all the air from your lungs in speaking it. 

He nods, holding your gaze for a moment. Those eyes of his drink you in and you’re sure he can see it - the hesitation and the fear. But once more he simply stands tall and gives you space to think. ‘Shall we head towards the waterfront?’ 

A public place, lively and full of people on a Friday night. Safe, reassuring. He didn’t suggest a club or somewhere heavy with expectation and you like him better for it. Tao waves an arm out in front of you, inviting you to go first and you start walking, clutching your purse under your arm. 

He falls into step beside you. 'So I guess if we're going big or going home, shall we start with our dating history?'

You should have expected this level of inquisition, especially from someone who is friends with Baekhyun. ‘Jesus, you don’t pull any punches.’ But against your will you let out a laugh. 

There’s something refreshing about someone who seems like, for all his mystery, he doesn’t hold any secrets. Everything out in the cool night air and you wonder if it would be freeing, to let it all go. To not question the words you say. To trust that the person you’re speaking them to will hold them without judgement.

‘Never have, never will,’ he reassures you. The cat-like grin on his lips is teasing. ‘That I can guarantee you. I’m happy to go first, if you’d like?’

You nod, and he sighs, looking through the clouds to the moon that peeks through. The streets are dry for once, a brief respite after the wet Seattle spring. Everyone around you takes in the night with gleeful laughter, on the search for music and connection and entertainment. But even with the full sidewalks around you all you feel compelled to do, inexplicably, is lean in closer to hear Tao. 

A group of women brush by you, giggling, forcing you into Tao to avoid them. On instinct he reaches out an arm to keep you both from being overrun. You turn into him and end up meeting his eyes. In the night they’re so dark they look almost black, with flashes of light from passing cars.

The moment stretches around you and irrationally you want to stop him before he says anything else. No stories of the people he’s been with or kissed or loved or wrote songs about. Maybe that’s the appeal of one night love stories, you think. The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm. 

The women pass and Tao respectfully brings his hand back to his pocket and time carries on. But the look on his face remains as you both start walking towards the Market again. 

‘I should say up front, I uhh - I guess that I’ve never been in a relationship. Actually.’ He runs a hand through his hair and winces like he’s ashamed of it. ‘I came close a few times. But it’s just never worked out.’ 

You open your mouth but aren’t sure what to say. Do you make fun of him for clearly being a playboy, not wanting to be tied down, fitting the stereotype of the rockstar he’s on a path to becoming? Do you play coy, asking him if you might fit the bill? Or do you reassure him? 

The latter feels the most natural. ‘You’re young. It’s the nineties. I don’t think it’s unusual to be playing the field right now.’ You lift a shoulder and shrug, the edge of your black denim jacket slipping down your back a bit with the motion. It exposes the skin of your collarbone above the strap of your dress, where your neck meets your chest. 

Tao licks his lips and drags his eyes away from your shoulder to meet yours with a nod. ‘That’s true. I guess most of my friends are single. Sehun is. Jongin is. Baekhyun is, for sure. Even if he is in love with your sister.’ Your jaw drops and Tao bites his lip. ‘Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. Please don’t tell her I -’ 

He looks genuinely panicked and you laugh, waving a hand. ‘Trust me, she’s in love with him too. They’re both too stubborn to admit it though. So your secret is safe with me.’ 

Tao sighs, relaxing, and gives you a half smile. ‘Thank you, I appreciate that.’ The neon lights from the bars and clubs along Pike street pass over his face, painting him dozens of bright colors. ‘So, that’s my story. Too busy working and writing lyrics and singing to be tied down. What’s yours?’ 

‘That’s hardly a story,’ you challenge, raising a brow. ‘More like the cover of a book.’

‘It’s plenty!’ he laughs. ‘I’ve exposed myself as a perpetually single man. I think that tells you tons about me.’ At your pursed lips he continues. ‘Fine. I’ve been chasing music for so long that I have avoided getting serious with anyone, lest it keep me from my dreams of stardom. I crave that intensity between me and an audience when I sing, but I’m afraid to let myself have something real. Something intimate, that expects more of me past one performance. I’m afraid that off-stage I’m more disappointing than on et cetera et cetera.’ 

He cuts off his rambling monologue, his eyes widening as he stops in his tracks for a moment, like he can’t believe he just said so much. But you stand next to him without judgement. Something about his disarming honesty and expressiveness makes you want to tell him the truth, ugly that it might be. 

While you stand on the corner and wait for the light to change you look at the zipper of his leather jacket to avoid his eyes and spit it out. ‘I got dumped six months ago.’ You lift your hands and drop them uselessly to your side. 

He tilts his head back in appraisal. Blessedly the teasing is gone from his face. He doesn’t offer sympathy, cloying and patronizing words about how you’ll find someone else. He doesn’t flirt with you, even though that seems to be his nature. 

‘I don’t know the circumstances, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but all I can say is - it’s his loss.’ He gives you a slight smile, not moving even when the light changes, and you can’t help but return it. 

It’s strange that it could be so simple. Perhaps if you do carry on something with Tao you’ll tell him more. But for tonight it can be that easy. The pain and doubt and shame can fade into a pinprick of light heading off into the distance and get swallowed up by the night. Like you can just wipe the slate clean and start over. You inhale a deep breath of cool, salty air and look up at Tao, your smile growing, becoming more genuine and whole. 

A lightness fills you and you wind your arm through his, pulling him into the crosswalk just as the last few seconds show on the countdown. He lets you guide him easily and you come to rest on the concrete looking down at the Pike Place Market. The bright neon red sign reflects against the dark night and the inky blue waters of the Bay beyond it. In the twilight ships move back and forth through the port, full of tiny lights of their own. 

He drops his hand a little, running over the clothed skin of your arm until he reaches your palm. The contact of his hand on yours makes you jolt. ‘Is this okay?’

Without thinking you nod, twining your fingers with his, savoring the heat as he presses against you. Your ex hated holding hands in public, hated any kind of PDA, calling it childish. But Tao stands by your side, hand in hand, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

People mill about you, heading to the endless restaurants and food stands that line the Market. In summer it’s in full bloom, crowded every night, and after a long winter and spring holed up in your apartment it’s disorienting to be out in the world again.

You start walking together, without a plan. It’s far more comfortable than you’d expected, the companionable silence with him. Everyone in your life talks a mile a minute - Baekhyun and your sister, your co-workers at the busy coffee shop, your classmates, hungry for discussion - but Tao seems content to just hold your hand and admire the rows of vendors you pass. The lack of pressure from him eases something that had drawn tight and anxious in your chest over the last few months. 

Before you is a maze of stalls. Tables full of tulips in bright yellows and pinks, bouquets wrapped in brown paper, that you stop to smell. Screen printed tee shirts with the Sonics logo or photos of the Space Needle or trendy political puns that Tao points out with a laugh. People sell everything from watercolor paintings to homemade honey to snow globes. As a recent college grad, you’re saving all your money, but everything is still fascinating to look at. 

The two of you settle on a kebab place for dinner after a long debate about the merits of the taco cart and the hole-in-the-wall seafood stop. The steam brings the rich smell of meat and vegetables to you. Against your protests to split the bill, Tao insists on buying dinner. 

‘If this is an official date I have to follow the guidelines,’ he winks. 

You roll your eyes and defiantly go to the next stall to order two Jones sodas from the seller. When you hold them up he laughs and inclines his head. ‘Alright, that’s fair.’ 

When you’re settled on the narrow rock wall beyond the far edge of the market, balancing Jones sodas on the uneven stones with a warm kebab resting on your knees, he carries on. 

'So, poetry. What made you choose that?' He asks around a bite.

After a sip of soda you tilt your head at him. ‘You can't laugh, okay?'

'Why would I laugh?’ His brows furrow like it’s the furthest thing from his mind. ‘I'm a singer, sweetheart. I don't take the arts lightly and anyone who does is an asshole.' He narrows his eyes at you in mock seriousness but the way his mouth fights a smile is endearing.

You snort, liking him yet again without planning on it. ‘I don’t know. I’ve always loved it and sometimes I try to write it. I’ve had some job or another since high school, so I’m confident I can always get a job if I need it but - there’s something so - so delicious about poetry.’ You swallow another drink of your soda and Tao’s eyes flick to the motion of your throat. ‘If I was going to go to college, and our parents kind of insisted on it, I wanted to study something I loved.’

Tao lifts his own soda and clinks it to yours in solidarity. ‘I can respect that. What’s your favorite poem?’

Suddenly shy you turn to set your soda down on the stone beside you, letting your hair fall over your face while you think. It’s not that you don’t know, but that it feels too close, too personal to tell him just yet. ‘That’s very private.’

When you look back to him he holds your gaze for a moment. ‘Hmm. Okay I can respect that. Favorite songs are pretty personal too so I’ll let you hold onto it, for now.’ With a movement as casual as breathing he tucks your hair behind your ear, as though he does it twenty times day, and resumes his eating. 

Poems run through your head as you chew, heart racing. You’d thought this was an experiment that would quickly go south. A quick walk to prove that you’re not compatible. A smug ‘I told you so’ to Baekhyun. And then a return to the comfort of your bed to read for the night. You didn’t expect to want him. Words, endless remembered words filter across your consciousness, ones of love and lust and death and the exhilaration of life. 

Normally your own creative voice is quiet, too afraid to give permanence to the ideas, the words, that live inside you. But as you watch the gentle night breeze ruffle his dark hair you think you could write some tonight, if you had pen and paper. Instead you shove an enormous bite in your mouth and chew, afraid of the attraction you have to him. 

When you’re both done eating he holds his hand out for your trash and you wad up the wrapper and hand it to him along with the empty bottle. He walks over to the trash and dutifully puts the bottles in the recycle, like any good Seattle boy. Dusting off his hands he turns back towards you, approaching slowly and holding out his hands. 

After a moment’s hesitation you reach for him, allowing him to help you stand. Continuing the night’s adventure. When you’re on your feet he releases one of your hands, keeping the other one tucked in his as the two of you wind your way back through the crowds. Both of you stop to pat the bronze pig at the crux of the Market for good luck.

He leads the way down the narrow stairs to Post Alley and the line outside the comedy club at its base winds around in a long chain. It’s funny, normally you’d want to know The Plan. Baekhyun calls you anal retentive, but you just consider yourself organized. You like knowing what’s coming. But tonight you consent to following him without knowing the destination. You bite back a smile - it’s exciting and terrifying all at once.

A group of people tries to come up the stairs as you’re going down and you are pressed against the rail, trying not to slip. It definitely isn’t meant to be wide enough for both directions of people at the same time. As if sensing your predicament Tao presses his broad back into the rowdy man behind you, ignoring his grumbles of annoyance, making space so you can descend the last few steps onto the courtyard. 

Out front of the Market Theater you thank him and wonder what exactly his plan is. Is he taking you to an improv show? A concert? Drinks? With your hand still in his he gently moves to the left, under the archway and in front of the long gum wall. You raise a brow at him but he merely smiles and shrugs. 

‘I didn’t peg you for someone who likes tourist attractions.’ 

His eyes dance with amusement. ‘Oh yeah? What kind of person did you imagine me to be?’ 

You purse your lips and try to figure out how to answer him. ‘I’m not sure, actually. Normally I can read people pretty easily, but I can’t pin you down.’ 

‘Me?’ He presses his hand that holds yours to his chest. ‘Baby, I’m an open book.’

The gum wall around you smells sickly sweet and you can almost taste it on your tongue. Everyone around you is taking polaroids in front of the wall or chewing their own gum in preparation to add to it. 

You wonder what the two of you look like from an outsider’s perspective. Tao, tall and imposing with his thick motorcycle boots. You with your white Keds and sweet, checkered dress and headband. It might seem like you’re an odd couple, but the heartbeat in his chest against your hand is strong and underneath it all perhaps you’re not so different. 

With a breathy laugh and a roll of your eyes you grip his hand and pull him further along the alley beside the gum walls, towards the water. Nearby one of the many buskers permitted to perform along Pike Place starts signing a loud and heartfelt, if slightly off-key, rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline,’ drawing the cheers of the onlookers. 

Away from the crowd in Post Alley you emerge onto a side street a block or so from the water. Tilting your head back you watch as everyone sings along. Tao’s free arm suddenly comes around your waist and dramatically he starts swaying you back and forth, crooning along to the Neil Diamond song far better than the busker. A few other people on the street around you smile or laugh, making their way to the pier up ahead. 

Instead of asking him what on earth he’s doing or feeling embarrassed about dancing in the middle of the sidewalk you just cling to him and try to keep up. His voice is rich and soothing, his hand holding you against him is sturdy and comforting. You can’t help but giggle and roll with it, holding onto his jacket and watching his jaw move as he sings. 

All too soon the performance back at the Market behind you ends and the last lyrics are drowned out by applause. Tao takes a step back and the night is cold without his warm embrace. You long to step forward and close the distance once more. Instead you brush your hair back and compose yourself. 

‘What kind of music do you like to sing?’ you ask as the two of you resume your progress towards the pier. 

‘All kinds.’ He shrugs. ‘But mostly love songs.’ 

‘Really?’ The light before you changes and ahead the aquarium looms in the night. To your left is the Kingdome waits, past the long stretch of the boardwalk. Without waiting for Tao you head that direction, the briny ocean air filling your lungs. 

He easily comes to your side. ‘Of course. Everything’s about love I think, when you get down to it.’ 

‘You weren’t singing love songs when I saw you perform.’ 

You answer without thinking, remembering the concert a few months ago that you and your sister went to. Baekhyun had invited you both to see Chanyeol’s band - Yeol and the Salty Wolves - and Tao was performing with the opening group. 

‘You’ve seen me on stage?’ His proud grin is teasing and playful and damned if you don’t want to kiss him. 

‘Yeah. It - my sister dragged me out of the house. She thought getting outside would do me some good.’ You focus on picking off a section of your pink nail polish that’s started to chip. ‘You guys were great. But you were definitely yelling about anarchy, not love.’ 

The imagine of him in his tank top, wide slits cut under the arms revealing a broad swath of his tanned skin, singing passionately, makes you suddenly very aware of him. Tonight he’s composed, a rebel in street clothes. But that night his face was slicked with sweat from his intensity, red in the cheeks and headbanging along with the crowd and the rest of the band. Even that night, so close after your recent break up, you wanted him. It was a dangerous idea then and it’s a dangerous idea now. 

He hums and veers to the right, heading down one of the longer piers. ‘I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it, to go to war for what you care about.’ 

To that you don’t argue. ‘That’s true. I guess anything could be love when you get down to it. There’s so many poems about sadness - missing love or rejected love. Anger. Bitterness.’ 

The wooden boards of the pier below you give a gentle thunk with each heavy step of Tao’s huge boots. Below you the water sloshes against the planks. Now at the end you lean forward, resting your elbows on the railing, before turning back to Tao. 

‘I guess this is a day to be debating love,’ you smirk, thinking back to the conversation that got you into this. In the wind off the Bay you shiver. 

Like a reflex Tao shrugs out of his jacket and holds it out to you. But you lean over and wave your hand at him. ‘No it’s okay, I’m fine. Please, you don’t have to -’ 

But he drops it over you anyways, the warm weight of his jacket settling on your shoulders and insulating you from the wind. In his black, long-sleeve shirt he doesn’t even seem cold. With a sigh you pull it more fully onto you and bend upright again, inches from him. 

‘Debating love indeed. See I think love and intimacy is made far too complex by a lot of people.’ He slowly rubs his hands together, forearms resting on the railing as he leans over, looking at the waves. ‘I think it comes from knowing someone. Really knowing them. Hopes and fears and memories and all of that. and choosing to be with them. Simple and complicated as that.’

‘Simple as that?’ you gape at him, holding your wind-tousled hair out of the way with one hand so you can look at him. ‘There's no way to truly know someone in one night, though. There's too much nuance for love in such a short time.’ The beating of your heart in your palms when you look at him would argue otherwise and you inhale deeply, trying to keep your center. 

‘Hence why I also said complicated. But now we’re debating what love itself means.’ His gaze darts down to your lips before he meets your eyes. ‘I know plenty about you.’ 

You open your mouth to argue but he carries on. ‘I know you’re stubborn, given the soda earlier and the coat just now. I know you’re practical and competent - I’ve seen you at your job. I know you’re a romantic at heart, you have to be to study poetry, and even if some asshole temporarily doused that fire you look for evidence that love is real everywhere.’ 

Feeling raw and exposed you try to find anything to say to brush off the way his statements cut to the heart of you. ‘That doesn’t mean you - uhm - that you know me.’ 

The word you almost said in your haste was love and the thought makes your palms sweat. Irrational. Impossible. Everyone always says your emotions are easy to read, that they’re written all over your face, and you wonder what he sees as he watches you. The moment you said it you could see the slow smile start on his lips. At the very least he knows you’re not arguing with him as much as arguing with yourself, against what you feel. 

He leans in closer so that his forehead touches yours, low voice almost a murmur. ‘But I want to know you more. I want to do a lot of things. Does that count?’ 

‘Count?’ If you wanted to you could press up on your toes and kiss him. The thought is intoxicating and you close your eyes, heaving a breath into your lungs. 

After a long moment of thinking and waiting and wondering you finally open them again. Tao looks just as conflicted as you are - his brows tug together and the casual flirtation is gone. He holds himself still before you and something far more serious crosses his face. Though he doesn’t answer with words the look in his eyes telegraphs his feelings for you. 

With a sigh he pulls back, reaching to the railing with both hands to steady himself, and you sway in his absence. He looks up at the night sky, at the moon through the clouds, and smiles. The stars peek through here and there. It’s not a cold night, just a breeze across the water to relieve the heat from the long summer day. Distantly a line of poetry comes to you, about being thirsty, parched almost, and wanting to drink him in to quench it. 

Rather than indulge the dangerous impulse to touch him again you take off back down the boardwalk. Back to the city and the lights and far away from the closeness of being with him in the dark. The pressure of his thick jacket will have to be enough, for now. 

‘So, where do you want to go next?’ You’re impressed you manage to sound steady. 

He sticks his hands in his pockets once more and ambles after you, a small smile gracing his lips. ‘I know a place.’ 

As you make your way along the waterfront he turns the conversation to safer territory. You fill each other in on your jobs - how they started and what you like and don’t like. Co-workers who are dating, friends you have in common at the mall. Notorious customers. Tao has dozens of stories and his laugh is easy, his eyes bright with flirtation now that you’re both on safer ground. 

Through the night you meander around the city in a vague Northward direction. Past the Science Center, it’s great white sculptures lit up. Around the Space Needle and the fountain. Another city and the streets would be deserted this late. But here there’s groups of people, laughing and splashing each other at the base of the enormous bowl that forms the center of it. You pass the occasional jogger or couple holding hands, walking home. 

The two of you stop to use the restroom and get a drink of water at a 24 hour grocery store. Tao also insists on buying some snacks, chocolate and a bag of chips that you keep in the large pockets of his jacket as you progress to the edges of Lake Union. 

It’s easy, being with him. His energy is calm, reassuring. He’s got a wicked and witty sense of humor you wouldn’t have expected and you easily spend half an hour looking out at the boats, making up other, naughtier names for them. 

It turns out he likes X-Files just as much as you and your sister do. As you stroll along the Fremont bridge you end up taking his hand once more. The snacks are gone and you can’t resist touching him again. It must be well after midnight, but he doesn’t mention going home. Strangely, you don’t want to either. For someone who’s life has become so habitual you’re surprized you’ve not even spared a thought for your nightly routine of reading in bed with a glass of wine and a candle burning on the windowsill. 

There will be other nights for that, but for tonight you let the momentum of the evening carry you along with him. You both decide to skip a visit to the Troll, not wanting to tempt any disasters. The Keds on your feet hold up well and you give a thanks to your past self for not wearing heels or sandals. 

Eventually his destination becomes clear. The gates to the park are closed for the night. ‘Gas Works? This is your plan - breaking and entering?’ 

He nods, biting his lip. ‘Yep. I know a way in. The nighttime view is unbeatable.’ 

You hold out your hands, gesturing to the enormous PARK HOURS: DAWN TIL DUSK sign. 

‘Afraid of being caught?’ 

You roll your eyes. ‘Yes, actually. I don’t think getting arrested for trespassing would be a great thing for my resume.’ 

Tao considers before backing towards the edge of the fence with a smirk. ‘Come on. How about a little mischief here ‘upon the honey’d middle of the night’?’

‘You know Keats?’ It leaves you breathless, rooted to the ground. It’s not from your favorite poem, but he is your favorite poet. A good guess or has he been doing his research? 

‘Of course. Don’t you?’ Tao teases, folding back a corner of the fence and easing himself through. 

You scoff and charge after him. The smug bastard can’t just quote Keats and then run away from you. Once again you want to kiss the proud look off his face, to rattle him the way he seems so capable of rattling you, getting underneath your surface. With a last thought to your reputation you step through after him and a thrill runs down your spine. 

The rusted red containers and machines that form the center of the park are tall ghosts in the night, rising from the grass and casting long shadows around you in the distant light from the city. He holds out his hand and you easily catch it, both of you winding your way carefully around the gentle hills to make your way to the view. 

You find a suitable spot and sit down on the grass. ‘You’re right,’ you tell him reluctantly. 

‘About what?’ Tao sits beside you, linking his hands over his knees. He sits near enough you can feel his thigh pressing against yours. Close, always so close, but not as close as you want him.  

‘About this.’ You gesture to the Seattle skyline in front of you. 

Sure you’ve been in the daytime, watching the boats sail on Lake Union and the groups of yoga practitioners and families with young kids fill the grassy slopes down to the water. But by night the lights of the city look like a painting. Skyscrapers touching the clouds as the first hints of sun are lightening the horizon. 

‘I thought you’d enjoy it.’ He nudges you with his shoulder and smiles at you. 

The gentle sounds of the water below is relaxing. Even as you lift your hand to cover a yawn you don’t truly feel tired, like the night and closeness to him could keep you awake forever, if you let them. But even so, dawn is coming and you think back to the reason that you’re both here. 

‘So. About that bet?’ Your words are a sigh and somewhere between the late hours and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles you don’t second guess the question. 

He side eyes you and can’t smother the grin on his face. ‘You mean the one about if we can fall in love in one night?’ 

‘Yes, that.’ It must be the lack of sleep causing the giddiness you feel, you tell yourself, as you lean back against the grass and cover your face with your hands. 

His own hands find yours and you turn to see him on his side next to you. Gently he pulls them down, holding them to his chest, so he can look you in the eyes. ‘Hmm, I don’t know about love, but I feel a whole hell of a lot right now. We never came up with an objective definition of it, anyways.’ 

You snort. ‘Did you honestly just say ‘objective definition?’’ 

‘Yes, I think if we’re going to agree here, we need to be on the same page.’ With his intense focus on yours he brushes a kiss against the backs of your hands. ‘If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?’ 

The smile blooms across your face and right then you’re tempted to say it’s all of them. How much you want his mouth on yours and his hands all over you. How you’re not quite sure you know how to have a relationship with a man anymore, after your ex, but that you want to try with him. How wild and free you feel being next to him. 

‘I don’t know about -’ you whisper. You let the truth fall out, not bothering to think about what it might mean. ‘Long term or after tonight. But I’d say, much that I hate to admit Baekhyun could be right, I’d say… uhm, he could be right.’

You avoid Tao’s eyes, focusing on his jaw or the fabric of his shirt or the way his hands hold yours. But still you see how he smiles, almost glowing in the light of the moon and the barest reflection of the sun coloring the skyline to your left. 

He clears his throat, pressing another kiss to your hand. ‘Well, I'd look at it this way. Let's say we do get together. Maybe we last a month or maybe we last for the rest of our lives. Another fifty or sixty years. In either of those cases tonight would be just a fraction of the relationship. A small sliver. Important when looking at the broad view of a life together, but not crucial by itself.’

With a nod you look at him and the heat in his eyes makes you gasp. He moves over you, releasing your hands to brace himself on the ground behind your head. The sturdy press of his body reminds you this isn’t a movie or a dream, it’s something real that’s happening to you. The cool grass sinks into your dress at your back and brushes against your thighs. 

'Or.' His hot breath cascades across your lips. 'If all we have is tonight.' Moving himself to the side he runs his nose along your jaw, mouth teasing the skin of your neck with barely there kisses. 'One night would be everything. For all the marbles, as they say.' He pulls back and looks at you with a lopsided grin. 

You huff out a breath, blowing your bangs out of your eyes, absently running your hands across his shoulders, along his chest. 'I don't know. I like knowing there's always time for more. Like - what if I was tired tonight or hungry or cranky and I messed it up? The thought of just one night still makes me nervous.’ 

He kisses your forehead and the words come faster, as if hurried along by the morning. ‘If we're a forever thing, then it's okay, because there will be a thousand more chances to get it right. But just once? How can it be perfect if it's so brief?'

'Well, even if we do get together we'd still only have one first kiss.' He rests on one elbow and uses his free hand to cup your jaw, clearing his throat around the roughness of his voice. 'Do you want to wait or shall we attempt perfection tonight?'

The thought of waiting any longer makes you far sadder and you nod. ‘Screw it - kiss me. Please?’ 

Instead of answering he simply drops his head, closing the distance and sealing his mouth over yours. He groans at the contact, the sound vibrating in his chest where it rests against yours. You grip his neck, winding your fingers through the strands of his hair and hold on, to ground yourself, between him and the grass as he slowly, hungrily, kisses you.

Your eyes flutter for a moment as he sucks on your lower lip. Behind him the sky is bright, the rays of light spilling through the clouds and rendering him art himself. The arch of his brows, full of emotion. You squeeze your eyes closed and hold him tight, grazing his neck with your nails and sighing into his open mouth. Before you can kiss him again he pulls back, his cheeks flushed and his eyes full of delight. 

‘That was pretty damn good.’ He huffs out a laugh, running his tongue along his lower lip like he’s trying to keep the taste of you close. ‘Are you sure you want to risk another one? It could be -’

‘Yes,’ you answer immediately. ‘Again.’ 

He grins and buries his face in your neck, his hot breath falling on your sensitive skin. ‘I think we’ve found the crucial difference between us.’ At your hum he carries on. ‘I can take one moment and hold onto it forever, perpetually living off the way it felt. You want to have it over and over again. And here I thought you were the poet.’ 

Rolling onto his back he pulls you on top of him with a squeal as you right yourself, bracing hands on his shoulders for balance. His hand rests against your cheek. ‘But if it helps. I - feel the same way.’ 

‘Oh.’ To keep your surprise and delight from exploding all over your face you bite your lip. ‘Alright then.’ You trace patterns in the fabric covering his chest. 

It’s as simple and as complicated as that, just like he said, hours ago. 

As the day rises full and bright with the heat of the sun you do indeed kiss again. Several more times. When you’re both red lipped and thirsty and covered in wrinkled clothes you head back to your apartment by UW. He gives you a piggy back ride when your feet start to hurt and helps you make breakfast with a sleepy smile and runs his fingers over the covers of the numerous books stacked on every surface of your apartment and all the while the feeling in your chest grows, not diminishes. 

You hurry through a shower and getting dressed for work while he patiently waits on the couch. His eyes are closed when you emerge, putting your hair back in a ponytail. Leaning against the door frame you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. You stifle a yawn and think of how not twelve hours ago you didn’t know what his skin felt like beneath your palms or what he’d be like to kiss or how perfectly your bodies seem to line up.

Tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight, you’ll have to report back to Baekhyun and your sister. Though you still have no idea what you’ll say when he asks if the two of you fell in love in one night, you know that, at the very least, it was the start of something. 

You leave Tao a note with instructions to sleep as long as he wants and a spare copy of your keys. He works his own shift tonight at Flanagan’s at two, his last one before he leaves on tour. Reassured that at least you’ll see him once more tonight at the party, before he’s gone for - well, you suppose you didn’t ask the specifics yet. You laugh at the thought and quietly shut the door and sprint down the steps to work. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s hardly after nine in the morning when Tao arrives. Far earlier than you were expecting, but you’ve learned that he likes to surprise you. When you see him standing in line you bite your lip, tilting your head and giving him a sleepy smile. 

‘A bit early for you, isn’t it?’ You ask, friendly and professional. ‘You look like you had a long night.’

He laughs, shaking his head and resting his palms on the counter. ‘I did indeed. But it’s been over two hours since I last saw you.’ 

‘Oh yeah? Is that a long time, then?’ you tease him. 

He whistles and leans in to whisper so only you can hear. ‘Far too long for someone in love.’ 

‘Love?’ The word thunders in your chest.

‘Maybe it’s too soon to know,’ he says, not backing up at all. ‘Maybe love is confirmed by time. But what I feel, whatever this is the start of, I’m greatly looking forward to.’

‘Are you sure you want to start this? You’re leaving, like, tomorrow.’ Suddenly in the light of day the reality of the situation makes your stomach flip.

He clutches his chest dramatically. ‘Don’t sound so sad, love. Please. You say that like I won’t come back.’ He reaches for your hand across the counter. ‘At least we'll have tonight. Tonight or forever, right?’ 

‘Exactly.’ Unable to resist you lift your hand to hold his cheek and kiss him. It was killing you not to and why not? He’s right. If it’s just one more night, you’re going to make it count.

You pull back and fill out his cup, insisting it’s your treat. Before he leaves you hold out the jar of poems. When he reads the line he laughs, holding it out to you.

“And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.”

― Pablo Neruda

[sophiethewitch1]

Meteoric Chapter 1 - A New Life, A New Me!

Death should be simple, you think.. You die, and that's it. However, considering how much pain and nausea you feel at the moment, you can guess that it’s not actually that simple. Your eyes open slightly, the bright light blinding you.

So, wait… what happened after death then?

Your eyes finally adjust to the bright light, and you realise you’re lying on your back staring up at a white-haired toddler.

Hold on… it’s… flying? It’s flying. What the hell.

You blink up at the floating thing in front of you, shock evident on your face. It's… It’s floating. You don’t think you can understate that this small child is floating. It’s floating. FLOATING! It frowns at you, and you think it calls out to you, but you’re too busy turning onto your side and throwing up absolutely nothing but water because god wants you to suffer. Did you drown? Who knows.

...Okay so heaven has been ruled out, not much surprise there.

The thing cries out in shock, moving closer to you patting you on the back and moving your hair out of your view. Finally, you stop retching up, breathing heavily and coughing the l. You roll away from the toddler and are shocked by the view in front of you. You’re at the beach. Maybe you did survive, you think looking at the cliffs and the ocean in front of you. Did you get swept away by the ocean to some strange land?

You turn back to look at the floating thing and realise, yup they are most definitely defying gravity.

What the hell is going on.

You then notice something incredibly strange.

It’s… Paimon.

Paimon? Paimon. That is most definitely Paimon. From the halo to the cape to the little star clip in her hair, everything about it is most definitely Paimon.

What the actual hell.

“Aether! She’s woken up!” it says in a voice that sounds absolutely like Paimon.

You think you’re going to pass out.

“Really? About time,” you turn your head to look at the voice and you shouldn’t be surprised really, but right there is definitely the male MC from Genshin. The same long blond hair in a neat braid.

And that’s when you finally recognise your surroundings.

You… are in Monstadt. Specifically, the starting beach where the game begins the tutorial. You look past the beach and squint, barely able to make out the silhouette of the secret island you spent thirty minutes trying to get to with Kaeya since you fell and drowned at one point.

Damn you really wish you got Venti, you could’ve just flown there if you had.

Wait…

Is Venti… real?

You look back at Aether and Paimon, eyes wide. You played with Lumine so you didn’t often get to see Aether but you knew what he looked like from online. You knew it was him, and yet…

You couldn’t quite believe it.

“Aether… Paimon?” the words come out of your mouth unprompted and you wince, realising that there's no real way you should know their names.

They blink, shocked like you expected they would be, and glance at each other. You notice the familiarity in that action and remember at this point they’ve been adventuring together for at least two months now.

“How long… have I been asleep?” you ask, your voice is quiet and hoarse from your coughing. And there was a salty taste at the back of your throat too, likely from the water. You really must’ve drowned then.

You think you really did die.

Paimon hesitates for only a second before speaking.

“We don’t know! Aether saw a shooting star fall near here and we came to investigate… and we found you in the water! Thought you were dead but we checked your pulse and found it still beating. And then you woke up and coughed up all that seawater!” she says, her hands clasped behind her back and her whole body tilted to the side slightly.

You look to the side, quiet. You don’t know what to say. You were a talkative person when you felt comfortable, and right now you were definitely out of your comfort zone.

Silence.

“...How did you know our names?” Aether asks, breaking the fragile quiet, and you want to sigh in relief. That is until you realise what he asked and freeze, not knowing how to answer him.

You continue to look off into the distance, the midday sun sitting above the calm waters of Monstadt.

“...Well then! Paimon thinks we should be headed off, we should get you to a doctor too! Let’s get going!” she says, pointing towards the edge of the beach where a teleport beacon sits. You get up, brushing the sand off you and are shocked when you stumble forward slightly.

Aether moves forward to help you, grabbing your arm and stopping you from tipping over, you laugh and he looks at you weirdly. You felt dizzy, like the air was lighter here... like you were lighter. You couldn’t tell if you liked it or not, but you did know it was strange.

You were starting to realise you were actually in a different world.

You shake your head, your laughter tapering off.

“Are you alright?” Aether asks, and you look up to him.

He was slightly taller than you, which was strange because in your last life you were definitely not near the same height as Aether was, he seemed way shorter than you. Once again, it’d make sense since this is a different world.

Whatever, you could process this all later, for now, you just wanted to find somewhere safe to cry.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m perfectly fine,” you lie through your teeth, and you think he can tell. You pull away from him, and he lets go without any hesitation.

This was all so strange.

Paimon calls the two of you over to the beacon, and you approach it with awe. Aether reaches a hand towards the stone and it turns from red to blue, a symbol of its activation.

You find it’s familiar blue glow somehow surprising you. It really shouldn’t, since it is such a common sight in the game but… it’s floating too. You come to realise physics should stop being a top priority of yours here. If any of this is actually real.

Hm. Maybe you were dreaming? You heard that there was this theory about after your death where you would dream for the few milliseconds before your brain completely shut down.

Well, it made more sense than being reincarnated into a video game…

You follow the two of them passed the point and reach the cliff, Paimon says something about having to climb it, and Aether scales the small stone wall easily. You stare at it. You’d done indoor rock climbing before, but they all had obvious and brightly coloured hand-holds. Your eyes move up from the wall to Aether and Paimon staring expectantly down at you.

Well, here goes nothing.

You jump up, grabbing onto the edge of the stone, pulling yourself up. Luckily the wall is angled slightly away from you, so it’s easy to get your weight up by leaning on it. You pull yourself up again, moving your feet up until you finally grab Aether’s waiting hand and pull yourself up.

“Wow, you’re not much of a traveller are you? Not too fast with climbing,” Paimon says, and you have the urge to punch her out of the sky.

But all you do is awkwardly laugh, and rub the back of your neck. Whatever, emergency food, neither of us are the star of this show and you know it.

Aether ignores the two of you and keeps walking on, stoic and cool, which was unlike what you expected. When you played Lumine she was an absolute mess, and you thought there wasn’t any difference in their characters, but this wasn’t the game, so it made sense. It was either a very strange ‘life-flashes-before-your-eyes’ moment or reincarnation.

You didn’t like either option, to be honest.

“Okay, let’s take the route we planned!” Paimon says, floating past you quickly towards Aether, “We’re off to… a statue of the Seven! Which of the Seven are you looking for, exactly?”

It is very surreal to hear her dialogue lines in real life.

Aether keeps walking along, paying no attention to the beautiful scenery around you. You, however, are staring in complete awe at the gorgeous greenery and cliff faces surrounding you, you even spot a waterfall!

Striding purposefully along, you can barely keep up with him. Evidently, he wasn’t a ‘stop and smell the flowers’ type like you were, so you run to catch up with him.

“Oh wowwww!” Paimon coos, and you can’t help but agree with her. In front of you is a gorgeous view, the cliffs at the side of your gaze moving your eyes naturally to its centre where a lake sits, a statue of The Seven in the centre of it. In the background, you can barely make out Monstadt, with it’s Church and windmills. Some birds fly across the canyon, adding to the wild beauty of the place.

Wide-eyed, you stare.

Yeah, this might just be real.

“That’s the statue of the Seven!” Paimon points down at the statue, a beacon of light piercing the sky. She drops her hand, “There are a few of these statues across the land to show The Seven’s protection over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon’s not sure whether the god you’re looking for is the Anemo God, but…”

She clasps her hands behind her back, looking worryingly at Aether.

“Paimon’ll take you to the Anemo God first and there’s a reason why~”

You can’t remember what the reason is, so you just nod along. Not adding anything to the conversation, not that Aether was either.

“Let’s go,” he says, which you find hilarious. A true silent protagonist, all stoic and mysterious… You really couldn’t take him seriously. He starts running down the mountain, and you follow after him as fast as you can.

“As we all know, poetry and language flow like the wind…” you always loved that part of Anemo, you were a hopeless romantic so such a lovely element had your heart quite quickly simply because of that. It was the element of freedom, and you always wanted to be a free soul.

“There’ll definitely be someone there who knows about your sister. At least, that’s what Paimon thinks! Whether the Gods actually answer you is a different story. You never know unless you try,” she turns to look at you, floating next to the two of you running down the hill.

“And there will definitely be someone here who can check up on you! You’ll be in good care!”

You smile at her, a little wobbly since you were still running along at a speed you were definitely not used to.

“Thank you,” you say, almost tripping over a rock on your way down.

She nods at you, a closed-eyed smile on her face.

“So let’s hop to it!”

You finally get down to the little lake and Aether doesn’t even hesitate before diving into the water after Paimon. You scowl, following through with them. You notice you’re still wearing your camping gear, if not a little more worn and torn. Oh, does that mean…? You wiggle your finger in your pocket and frown when you find the hole still there.

Whatever, keep going.

You move forward, wading through the water, and swimming the small distance to the island. You get out of the water, sopping wet and grumpy, but your mood quickly changes when you look up at the Anemo Archon’s statue in front of you.

It feels like it’s… calling to you.

Aether steps forward and lays a gloved palm upon the golden insignia at its base, turning the glowing light from faintly yellow to a brilliant aqua. Your eyes follow the aqua light until you focus on how its forms in the Barbatos statues hands. The light grows brighter and brighter, till an anemoculus pops out and floats down into Aether’s chest. The ghostly symbol of Anemo fading away and being absorbed into the boy's form.

He looks around, eyes curious and open. It’s kind’ve adorable.

He lifts a hand up to grab a wisp of light but it’s gone by the time he opens his hand.

“Ooh! Did you just feel the elements of the world? Seems all you had to do was just touch the statue to get the power of Anemo!” Paimon says, holding her chin in the ‘I’m-thinking’ pose.

You take a step towards the statue, the words of the two behind you starting to drown out. You can hear something, it almost sounds like… a violin? No… a lyre.

A flash of Venti appears in your brain and the hand hovering above the statue freezes. You turn to look at Aether. If he can get his powers due to being an Outlander, wouldn’t that mean…

You step back from the statue.

You almost hear it whining out your name, which is incredibly silly. It’s just a statue, a statue of immense power, but a statue nonetheless. It can’t yearn, and certainly not for you.

Another step backwards, and that tugging feeling in your chest disappears. You can’t stop thinking about the statue, so you focus on Aether and Paimon calling you across the water. You swim through it again, not worrying about your wet clothes this time.

You follow them, watching Aether use his new powers, the obvious wonder painting your face. Magic… he’s got magic. Watching the wind release from his hands and sword in controlled blasts is surprisingly the first thing about this endeavour that made you happy.

You’d always loved magic, you’d gotten involved in earth’s version of it, but you could never do anything like this… He aims a blast at another slime and then swiftly cuts it in two, and you smile.

“So she can actually smile,” Paimon says, crossing her arms and smirking at you.

Your smile quickly turns into a frown.

“I’ve smiled at you…” you say, staring at her. Your voice hurts a little less than earlier, which is a relief. No permanent damage to be seen, it seems.

She rolls her eyes and places her tiny hands on her hips.

“A real smile, silly! Not one of your sarcastic laughs either! I seriously thought you were a huge debbie-downer!”

You laugh and Paimon grins in triumph. She didn’t know what was wrong with you, but she knew something had happened. She wanted to help.

A growl sounds from above you and a giant shadow swiftly passes over your head. Your eyes snap up, and to your never-ending shock, a familiar blue dragon flies past. You barely get a glimpse, but you see it’s gorgeous butterfly patterned wings and it’s long elegant tail soar over the canyon. Both Aether and Paimon gawk up at it as well, and Paimon says-

“Wow! What is that?!”

Dvalin. It’s the legendary dragon Dvalin.

“There’s something huge! In the sky! It’s headed towards the heart of the forest. We must proceed with caution,” she warns, and you follow after the path Aether leads, your eyes still flickering up to the sky.

You’d be meeting the dragon soon.

And a certain mischievous God too.

Well, this was going to be a long day…

-

Unknown to you, a power simmered. Rejected and angry, it’s strength gathered, hoping to lure it’s chosen closer. It is determined, all for it’s beloved.

A statue along the coast begins to crack.

[orsuliya]

Hi) Do you think Awu would be happy with Zitan? I think the best thing Daddy Wang did was to force het to marry XQ. I mean he knows his daughter well. I think all those men (Zitan, Helan Zhen, Huaien) who were in love with her, would eventually dissapoint her. Which happened pretty early with Zitan lol I think they all lived in a fantasy, without really realizing what kind of a woman she is. I think they happen to be compatiable with XQ on all the levels. And he is the only one that matches her spirit. And the one she truly admires and looks up to) Potato is the only one who got over his affection towards her and managed to treat her as a sister or a friend) Who knew)

Ah, I knew I couldn’t keep escaping this question forever. This is absolutely not a slight against you, Reasonably Potato-Friendly Nonnie, not at all. It’s... complicated.

Now, let us consider how could such a marriage even take place. Of course there is always the elopement, although in order for that to succeed Zitan would need to be much less... Zitan. But is there any possibility of getting Awu and Zitan hitched even earlier for the purpose of this exercise? Well, yes, there is.

I am not going to consider a pre-series betrothal if only due to Awu’s age. Besides, such a betrothal would be akin to putting a cat among pigeons, which is something that Daddy Wang might absolutely do... but not without a guarantee of proportionate gratification. Letting such an agreement stand for long - with no possibility of sealing the deal early - is a no go, not when every other party would try to tear it asunder, use it for their own purposes or strike preemptively just in case.

Yes, I know that Daddy Wang had no intention of giving Awu’s hand to any of the Ma princes. And certainly he wouldn’t be able to marry her off to Zitan, should Zilong still be free, not without alienating his sister completely by building up a rival claimant with his own two hands.

Of course Zilu works his magic and Wanru becomes Zilong’s Crown Princess; this opens new, exciting possibilities. Potato is off the table completely: surely Awu could never become a second wife and neither would the Xies agree to see Wanru degraded so. This makes the rather stubborn Empress Dowager malleable; now what?

Well, let’s say that Xiao Qi pulls a runner much, much earlier, about five minutes after catching and putting Awu down. Even then Daddy Wang wouldn’t be all that keen on having Zitan as his son-in-law... unless one of two impossible things happened:

Impossible Thing number 1. Daddy Wang decides that Potato is an evolutionary dead end and decides to change horses halfway through the race. No, I do not mean that he goes for an earlier coup. He simply elects to switch his prospective puppets; I have no idea why would he do that, but he totally could, you know. Potato gets mashed in mysterious circumstances, Zitan gets Awu... for about nine months or however long it takes them to produce an heir... and then chokes on his own flute the minute a son is born unto him. Or rather unto Daddy Wang, who snatches this shiny Platinum Ticket up immediately. Awu gets a sweet gig as an Empress Mother, should Daddy Emperor expire prematurely. And they all get killed by the wondrous duo of Zilu&Jianning. Or maybe not, since the governor of Huizhou would probably stay loyal in this scenario, giving Xiao Qi enough time to save everyone and their dog. As always. In this scenario there is every possibility that Awu wouldn’t become disappointed with Zitan... because he wouldn’t live long enough for that in any case. And even if there was enough time for that to happen, Daddy Wang would make sure there were no dark clouds to throw shade on their marriage… for as long as it actually lasted. Why am I so sure that Zitan would have to die in this scenario? Well, how else could Daddy Wang install his Platinum Ticket on the throne? The way I see it, in this case Daddy Wang might not even go for the throne himself; a grandchild is, after all, a wholly different thing from a grand-nephew.

Impossible Thing number 2. Daddy Wang gets hit with a low-flying brick and gets a truly genius idea of making peace with the Xies. Wanru is married to Potato, so if Awu gets married to Zitan, there is simply no way that either side could step out on this status quo by, let’s say, marrying a daughter off to Xiao Qi and his big bad army. The only problem is that nobody would take such an entente lying down. The Empress Dowager wouldn’t, since it basically halves her own power as a prospective Empress Mother. Zilu&Jianning wouldn’t, since a Wang-Xie alliance could force them to wave their own chances goodbye. And the Emperor certainly wouldn’t, not when much of his power derives from serving as a mediator between warring factions! Even for the Xies and the Wangs it makes little sense: why take half a pie when you can have it whole? Without an external factor forcing their cooperation, there’s just no way they would go for that, unless as a way to shore up their positions. But that is a strategy good for the currently weaker Xies, not for Daddy Wang! Damn, that would have to be one heavy brick! Anyway, this scenario requires both couples to take part in an elaborate court dance of precedence, power games and daily balancing between two factions. Otherwise it all comes toppling down. This dance is certainly something that Awu can do… but Zitan absolutely cannot, not with his tendency to act like an offended kindergartener every time his ego gets hurt. Potato is much more likely to swallow an insult or ten than Mr. Flute and Awu would quickly see her husband for the child he is. No long-lasting happiness to be found there, sorry.

In both these cases court life would quickly reveal Zitan’s true face. Oh, I doubt he would go full-blown villain in either scenario, regardless of his probable life expectancy. The problem is that Awu knows and loves Zitan as this happy, carefree prince. What concern is Cheng’s governance to Zitan? He’s the Emperor’s youngest, most beloved and most spoiled son, the one with a greatly favoured mother; in this family even the presumptive heir gets little to no actual preparation for ruling and neither does the most talented prince!

Marriage to Awu automatically catapults Zitan into the very centre of Cheng’s political scene. What is permissible and even cute in a favoured youngest princeling is catastrophic in a pillar of the Empire. And Awu? Awu would be there with him all the way; infinitely more capable and yet comparatively powerless. Because riddle me this: what happens once Zitan’s beloved wife starts to show him up? As she inevitably must, knowing them both. Somehow I don’t think he would glow with pride or boast about her accomplishments. We saw how Zitan treats most women in his life, how he treated Wanru when she was his best ally and even Su Jin’er while she served as his spy. Women are allowed to have their own agendas and interests… as long as their agenda is to make Zitan great (again), regardless of any actual pay-off for them and theirs.

Love… love would last for a while. But you see, Zitan exhibits another worrying tendency, which would show its ugly face sooner or later. Starting from the Huizhou arc, he no longer sees Awu as she is and stubbornly tries to make her fit the mold he constructed in his head. And that mold is designed in such a way as to make him, Zitan, shine. He came late to their elopement? He didn’t come late at all, she just didn’t wait! He’s the faithful lover here. That mold is also very, very stiff and not very big to begin with. Surely what Awu wants most is to be an Empress. She’s a Wang daughter and Wang daughters become Empresses, who cares what Awu actually thinks or feels. Oh, sorry, that’s the second mold he constructs, the first was Zitan’s little wife, completely satisfied with living somewhere far from the capital and listening to his dreadful poetry all day long. Yeah, that romantic fantasy? It could have never happened; while believing in it might be forgivable in a fifteen-year-old Princess, it’s rather less so in a Prince who may become a target at any moment due to the Xie-Wang rivalry.

Okay, I have no idea where this whole thing is going and it shows. Let’s look at the third impossible thing, namely what would happen should that bloody elopement end in a success.

Impossible Thing number 3. Awu and Zitan run away and for some reason Daddy Wang doesn’t track them down. Which would take him a week at most, since neither Awu nor Zitan are all that inconspicuous, unmarked golden leaf or not. Golden leaf of presumably imperial grade is hella suspicious even without any markings, so kudos to Jinruo. But then how could she know any better…? But let’s say Daddy Wang gives up. And so do the remaining Xies, who just lost their potential claimant. And so does Zilu, who would totally set a potential rival loose. And the Empress Not-Yet-Dowager, paranoid that Zitan could be plotting with provincial magnates. And the Emperor, once he wakes up! Not like he wanted to put Zitan on the throne, right? And so does every single other interested party who could use a nifty imperial figurehead of their own. So Awu and Zitan settle down in a small house somewhere in… somewhere. What then?

Well, that small house… While Awu might be able to live and even thrive in such circumstances, Zitan is made out of different clay. Who was it that complained about the Imperial Mausoleum, which was basically a palace; and who had her wedding night under the stars dealt splendidly in Ningshuo after the first cultural shock? Okay, let’s say he sees this new servant-less and palace-less life as his Glorious and Noble Sacrifice, which is the only way I can imagine him being more or less happy with it. He woud drive Awu mad in a month. Either she gets a husband who is visibly unhappy – even if he doesn’t actually say so – or one that keeps indirectly blaming her for their new circumstances.

Also, I don’t think Jinruo’s stash would last all that long, not if they wanted to keep some standard of living, not without replenishing it in some way. Surprisingly, they both have some rather marketable skills; Awu is good with budgeting, for example, and Zitan would make a credible music master or calligraphy teacher. They could be… reasonably happy with that? Although seeing as Zitan is perfectly content with sitting a whole year out in his room, doing… nothing, I can’t see him being all that eager to make an honest living.

Then children would come and with children usually come problems, pulling them both further into the daily grind. Now, Awu would probably be okay with that, but Zitan with his lofty ideals? Zitan, who wasn’t able to imagine how Awu could possibly love or do anything more than tolerate a mere soldier? Somehow I can’t see him being anything but deeply unhappy with this rather prosaic existence. And unhappy with being unhappy, because he should be ecstatic, right? He married his love, he fulfilled his dream! How can he feel so... so mopey about it?!

He would be unhappy and unhappy with being unhappy, and sooner or later he would start searching for somebody to blame. And Awu would take that blame, at least in the beginning. Not because she’s a doormat, no. Because without her loftly titles, without her family and her position, she would probably feel much more vulnerable. We know how she felt about being a traitor’s daughter and Xiao Qi did everything in his power to shore up her position, even as he assured her that it mattered not at all. Would Zitan be half as observant and supportive? Yeah, I don’t think so. Besides, there would be a grain of truth in Zitan’s accusations: while it wasn’t Awu who came up with this whole idea, it was her mother who organized the elopement. Zitan was the victim, a poor unknowing lamb led to the slaughter the boat.

And you know what? Even if no blame was being thrown around, even if they both found acceptable equilibrium in their daily lives, even if they both were more of less satisfied with their new existence… it would still be a bloody tragedy.

And no, I am not talking about their differing levels of maturity or the fact that I rather doubt that a man like Zitan would be able to keep a woman like Awu permanently satisfied in every aspect of their lives.

My main beef with the elopement scenario is the fact that Awu was born to move empires, not wither in some backwater. She’s designed to operate on an entirely different scale! For all that she may dream of having a pretty little house somewhere in Ningshuo, those dreams take on an entirely different flavour knowing that the man living with her in that pretty little house would be Xiao Qi. You don’t exactly need to decide the fate of empires yourself when you have a man who could easily do just that eating out of your hand. The level of satisfaction is more or less the same, I guess.  Note that even at the end Xiao Qi and Awu don’t give up power. They may choose to live quietly in their beloved Ningshuo, but the moment something goes really wrong? They will be back in the saddle in five minutes flat. That big bad army isn’t going anywhere either and that neat final voiceover? Gives us a pretty good idea as to their plans for the future:

grasslands + grateful and thus loyal manpower + big bad army = economical and military powerhouse + all benefits of being a vassal state + de facto independence

That’s no withering in obscurity, let me tell you! Not like living with Zitan under an assumed name would be.

ETA: Oh, I know what the question was! Do I think that Awu would be happy with Zitan? NOPE.

[mooosicaldreamz]

We obviously need your song by song analysis of evermore please!

i got asked to do this about four times so here it is.....much anticipated. i know. please note that when i say that i hate her or despise her i don’t actually mean that. but i do

EVERMORE

OK LETS GO

WILLOW - ok, groovy first time you hear it, right? has a strong rumbly wiggle. let’s VIBE. the low of the verse, the high of the chorus…oh my goodness! what is she doing. she’s just out there! wow. “wherever you stray i follow” is a banger. “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind” with the overlay oof let’s go.!!!! a shockingly strong first entry of the record…best one since “welcome to new york” maybe!!! let’s just say it!!! for some reason “i come back stronger than a 90s trend” throws me off though…i don’t know. it’s just so moody pop, no one is doing it like her!!! i hate her

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS - every time i listen to this song i listen to it four times. not a joke. it’s perfect. i don’t think i need to convince anyone! it’s perfect!!!!! what are you doing? taylor swift, the most dramatic bitch, has been writing dramatic bitch songs since she was fourteen and yet, somehow, she contrives to write even more dramatic things as she ages. this song is a JOKE. there are not ENOUGH songs about denying proposals! it’s just simple and sad. oh my god. it’s insane. the fact that she wrote this with her boyfriend (i have a running theory that they are married, we are going to refer to joe as her Perfect and Glorious Husband from now on) …… come on. the ENTIRE BREAKDOWN. “YOUR MIDAS TOUCH ON THE CHEVY DOOR / NOVEMBER FLUSH YOUR FLANNEL CURE / THIS DORM WAS ONCE A MADHOUSE / I MADE A JOKE WELL ITS MADE FOR ME / HOW EVERGREEN OUR GROUP OF FRIENDS / DON’T THINK WE’LL SAY THAT WORD AGAIN / AND SOON THEY’LL HAVE THE NERVE TO DECK THE HALLS THAT WE ONCE WALKED THROUGH” ……. concluding with that absolute stabby killer “what a shame she’s fucked in the head” oh my god……….. and the song resolving in a very adult “you’ll find someone else” god

GOLD RUSH - ok so like this song is like ok it’s got the same groovy high /low that’s happening on willow but it’s so different! it’s so good! the pulse of the beat propelling the whole thing through and then the falling apart “oh what must it be like to grow up that beautiful”……………..ok. the visceral image of “my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door” …………. i admire very much taylor’s oncoming gift of moving through high/low imagery…… i love her so much? it’s so HARD. “my mind turns your life into folklore” beautiful! BEAUTIFUL! also i have some belief in me that this is about karlie kloss but i shall not dive into that hole.

TIS THE DAMN SEASON - oh so i’m supposed to LIVE with this song EXISTING. WHY!!!! HOW……..oh my god………..taylor was like, yes, i’m going to write a song about a famous girl going home and banging her high school flame for a week and jack and aaron were like oh ok. “i parked my car between the methodist and the school that used to be ours.” she is such a joke. “you could call me babe for the weekend” like ok emo!! emo!!! OK. I LOVE THIS SONG

TOLERATE IT - taylor really gave us the most depressing track 5, but it’s absolutely a banger and i love her! she is just vibing! oh my god. what a specific emotion to pinpoint with this song….it’s such a gift. no one is hitting this space

NO BODY NO CRIME - this song has no business being on this record but in the BEST WAY, like how daddy lessons mysteriously appears in the middle of lemonade. oh my goodness. this is just pure country revenge song. taylor was like oh actually i haven’t forgotten my roots and i hate men more than i ever have. and she got haim to sing with her. and it’s so good. the low “i think he did it” oh my goodness. this song is a joke. how is it real? it’s just a perfect radio song. it reminds me very much of “before he cheats” but it’s a lot more sonically calm

HAPPINESS - similar to “tolerate it” and i think “champagne problems” this song is beating on an emotional bush that is really really hard to hit the head of. like, so she collabed with the national and bon iver on this record and previous obvi, and i LOVE them, but their music can often be very………impressionistic? perhaps? is how i might put it. it’s sometimes hard to get a note of specificity from it. imo. but taylor loves a fucking story bro. and she has figured out how to tell made up stories. she can’t be stopped now. like…this space of a breakup and knowing that it’s for the best and being sad in this way? name a pop star who has a song this nuanced. for real! god. i despise her. “across a great divide / there is a glorious sunrise”

DOROTHEA - the other half to the far superior TIS THE DAMN SEASON and a banger all the same. it has the bouncy joy of the most buoyant national songs. in the same vein as the also far superior BETTY, she has her sweet dumb boy slurry and less intelligent voice. i love that she paints these narrators this way, it’s just nothing she would have ever reached for ever before this period. she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband now and she has begun to understand teenage boys, FINALLY.

CONEY ISLAND - i have upon many occasions opined that i love the national VERY MUCH. i once went to a festival with my gf and her sister to see them even though i was expressly not invited and you know what despite the fact that it caused a lot of angst, i got to see the national play TERRIBLE LOVE in the middle of the night and I SCREAMED IT. so like, listen. what is matt berninger doing here, to me, specifically????????? i was somewhat hesitant about how their voices might blend, but it works astonishingly well. and i think that it’s so wonderful, i can’t. the imagery of a dreary coney island…..”sorry for not winning you an arcade ring.” as taylor always proves, the bridge is spectacular. “were you standing in the hallway / with a big cake / happy birthday”……”and when i got into the accident / the sight that flashed before me was your face / but when i walked up to the podium / i think that i forgot to say your name” sorry to yOU calvin. she had ISSUES. and now she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband. also “sorry for not making you my centerfold” ok kaylor

IVY - this song is about emily dickinson and i DARE you to tell me that i’m wrong. I DARE YOU. I DARE YOU. you’d be wrong! embarrassing for you. taylor finally writing a probably legitimate queer song and it’s about fucking emily dickinson is so on brand…..it’s dripping with poetry and groove and she’s so fucking dumb i hate her so much. her narrative of ivy and poetry and the lakes district…….ok taylor. i know. i know you watched all the dickinson things that came out and you identified with her. the gentle sway of the “oh, goddamn” and the “oh, i can’t”……i CAN’T EITHER TAYLOR !!! i CAN”T TAYLOR!!!! “oh goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / taking mine but it’s been promised to another / oh i can’t / stop you putting roots in my dreamland” TAYLOR. and then she says, “oh you didn’t realize this wasn’t gay?” “i want to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed” like @ emily yourself taylor “he wants what’s only yours”……TAYLOR. give me the entire catalogue of emily dickinson songs!!!!! i can’t do this. “springs breaks loose / but so does fear” “i’d live and die for moments that we stole / on begged and borrowed time / so tell me to run / or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become / and drink my husband’s wine.” taylor if you see this post, a, i love you, b, i need you to tell me about ivy, and c, PLEASE can i have tickets to your next tour in the year 2025 or whenever because my gf never buys me any to your shows……….i love this song if it isn’t clear. i think i’d love it if it wasn’t gay

COWBOY LIKE ME - ok this will sound weird and if you’ve read this far i’m going to assume that you don’t care about me being weird…but this song reminds me of the fanfiction STAY THE NIGHT by lynnearlington (maybe u’ve heard of it). please reply if you think about this and feel the same. “never wanted love / just a fancy car” “you had some tricks up your sleeve / takes one to know one / you’re a cowboy like me” the opening line re: the tent-like thing reminds me very strongly of the fourth of july at our family’s country club and they set up a tent over the parking lot and this song just makes me think of that vibe????? i don’t know. i have vibes. i love this song a lot, which is impressive because it follows after the gay euphoria of IVY. perhaps this is because it gives me its own gay euphoria. “now you hang from my lips like the garden babylon” ???? is one of the most gay, seductive, brutal lyrics i have ever heard. she wrote that down and was like, oh yeah, vibez, hundo p. she did that to me

LONG STORY SHORT - this song is an honorary sequel to I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED from the lover era (honestly i’m still in the lover era). but i actually think this song is better! so we are taking that. “actually i’ve always thought that i looked better from the rearview” ok taylor let’s access that feeling! “no more keeping score / i just keep you warm” is like, stupidly sweet.  rip to calvin but now taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband.

MARJORIE - made me cry, simple and beautiful. one of the more personal songs on the tracklist! and something that i had never considered that she would write about, but i think the quarantine period has allowed a lot of us to dig into our feelings, so….vibez. we’re vibing!

CLOSURE - this song’s production sounds a lot like bon iver’s recent productions, very tech-y and repetitive and spare. rip to karlie kloss but taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband and karlie’s legal last name is kushner so who really won? hmm? i love “i’m fine with my spite / and my tears / and my beers / and my candles” the inclusion of candles is just. vibez. there are four candles lit rn in our apartment!

EVERMORE - i think this song is very intriguing and i’m still puzzling with it! the simplicity of her depressive gray November phase and then the very ebullient and bold bon iver interlude……..really has a manic/depressive, sad/angry vibe???? it feels so on brand for this pandemic quarantine…..and it works shockingly well, except for that i’d rather listen to the bon iver part for 10 minutes more. “all my waves are being tossed / is there a line that i can just go cross” and then taylor’s sort of call and response with his interlude……should just be the whole song.  but it’s still good. that’s how annoying she is

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Sorry if this is a weird question. It’s been awhile, but I think it was your blog that once posted about a list of adult books for YA readers? Did you ever finish that? I’ve pretty much read exclusively YA for years, but as an adult, I’d like to start exploring some books that aren’t about teenagers. Thanks! (And if it wasn’t you, then just ignore this.)

not a weird question, pretty normal question. I don’t know if such a book list could ever be finished, exactly, because more books just keep on coming and there are definitely some I will never know about that are no doubt fantastic, but I have posted two rec lists, which I’ll copy paste here for your viewing pleasure:

The Beautiful Ones (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) - absolutely BUCKWILD romance with a dash of telekinesis; nonstop high society drama and misunderstanding from start to finish, happy ending guaranteed. STRONGLY recommend if you, like me, are a basic bitch who enjoys a bit of Pride and Prejudice.

Binti (Nnedi Okorafor) - a math prodigy runs away from Earth to become the first of her people to attend a prestigious university in space, but shit gets real when a crew of hostile jellyfish aliens attack her ship.

Chilling Effect (Valerie Valdes) - a spaceship captain and her crew take on a series of convoluted missions in order to rescue the captain’s sister, who’s been frozen and held for ransom.

The City of Brass (S.A. Chakraborty) - an 18th century conwoman and a mysterious djinn team up to go looking for a legendary hidden city.

The City We Became (N.K. Jemisin) - a scrappy bunch of Chosen Ones have to band together to defend New York City (which is very much alive) from a huge ass monster.

The Empress of Forever (Max Gladstone) - a lady supervillain gets blasted into space and meets an even bigger, planet-destroying evil space empress. literally WHAT is not to like?

The Empress of Salt and Fortune (Nghi Vo) - high fantasy royal drama about a woman making her way to power in the wake of a political marriage that left without friends or allies.

Escaping Exodus (Nicky Drayden) - a space-faring clan are creating their latest spaceship from the insides of a giant monster when absolutely everything goes to shit (as things are wont to do in science fiction stories).

Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars (Kai Cheng Thom) - a trans girl runs away to the big city, where she uses her martial arts skills to team up with other trans woman and form a vigilante gang to defend their own when police look the other way. a fascinating blend of poetry and prose and magical realism.

Finna (Nino Cipri) - two exes working at an IKEA have to team up to save a customer who disappeared through one of those interdimensional portals that all IKEAs have laying around. you know how it is.

Gideon the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) - come on, you’ve heard about this one. it’s the one with the lesbian space necromancers? yeah, that’s the one. you got it.

In the Vanishers’ Palace (Aliette de Bodard) - a Beauty and the Beast retelling based in science fiction and Vietnamese fantasy, featuring a young woman falling in love with a “beast” who’s actually a motherly dragon after becoming a tutor to the dragon’s two powerful children.

Jade City (Fonda Lee) - urban fantasy gang wars, pitting one magically enhanced family against rivals and a new drug that lets anyone mimic their abilities.

The Library of the Unwritten (A.J. Hackwith) - hell’s librarian gets sent on a quest to find a runaway soul.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Becky Chambers) - aka one of my favorite books ever, essentially slice of life science fiction following an interspecies crew of deep space truckers making the longest and most complicated delivery of their lives. very warm and fuzzy.

Mort (Terry Pratchett) - one of many MANY Discworld books, but a very good one to start with, following the adventures of a boy named Mort after he’s taken on as Death’s apprentice. you know, like the Grim Reaper? that Death.

River of Teeth (Sarah Gailey) - historical AU in which the United States imported and domesticated hippos in the Mississippi River; follows a crew of hippo-riding crooks and hooligans as they plan one heck of a caper.

Space Opera (Catherynne Valente) - a washed up rock star and his old bandmate get roped into performing in an intergalactic singing competition that will determine the fate of the entire planet Earth. full of aliens, attempted assassination, art, and emotional turmoil.

This Is How You Lose the Time War (Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone) - time-travelling assassins from rival factions fall in love in a poetic and breathless story that spans centuries and reality.

Under the Pendulum Sun (Jeannette Ng) - fairyland is real, and Victorian England is sending missionaries. a woman and her brother attempt to bring the good word to the fair folk, but start to suspect the queen might just be screwing with their heads. PEAK gothic horror with a creepy fairy twist.

Witchmark (C.L. Polk) - a doctor and former soldier with magical powers of healing is trying to live a quiet life and avoid his controlling, aristocratic family’s plans for him, only to get tangled up in a massive political conspiracy when one of his patients mysterious dies. accompanying him in his investigation is a mysterious and gorgeous faerie man. romance ensues.

(this second part is a list I made specifically focused on trans authors)

The Black Tides of Heaven (J.Y. Yang) - twins with Powers rebel against their politically powerful mother, hell yeah

The City in the Middle of the Night (Charlie Jane Anders) - dystopia sci-fi where The Government is controlling a city’s passage of time and light. sounds like somebody should overthrow that…

Confessions of the Fox (Jordy Rosenberg) - I haven’t read every book on these lists, including this one, but it’s described as  “a mind-bending romp through a gender-fluid, 18th-century London” and I personally would love to read that.

The Deep (Rivers Solomon) - mermaids are descended from women who jumped overboard from African slave ships, and one carries the memories of all their collective trauma. what will happen when she decides to explore the surface?

Docile (K.M. Sparza) - sci-f m/m romance story about autonomy and criticizing capitalism; what’s better than that?

The Future of Another Timeline (Annalee Newitz) - murder! time travel! queer ladies! idk, what else do you need?

Freshwater (Akwake Emezi) - a twisty little story about mental illness and being possessed by a god; magical realism ensues.

The Merry Spinster (Daniel M. Lavery, published under the name Mallory Ortberg) - a collection of short stories drawing inspiration from classic fairy tales, Biblical mythology, and more recent works. the way Lavery reimagines “The Velveteen Rabbit” is one of the creepiest things I’ve ever read, and also one of my favorite short stories.

Ninefox Gambit (Yoon Ha Lee) - you like big ol’ dramatic space operas? I’ve got one for you right here!

[italoniponic]

Reverse AU (so people can understand my au-stories) Part I

Basically, is a Kwami Swap X Reverse Crush Au X Reverse Life alternative universe. I did this whole post because some fics from Adrien August would be on this au and I thought it would be interesting to the readers know what this whole au is about. I mixed some concepts and liked the final result.

So sit, take a coffee/tea and let’s go into it!

●     So because I don't want neither of Tom or Sabine being in the Hawkmoth role, Marinette is an orphan who lives with her great-uncle Wang Cheng but continues with the "Dupain" in the surname for emotional reasons;

●     Wang Cheng is a rich and famous gourmet chief. He's always busy, so Plagg is Marinette only company for major of the time but he makes everything on his effort to be close to his niece and sometimes, when work is easy that day, he can spend time with Marinette. Wang is a cute uncle who drops cute short letters like "The soup is in the fridge, is your favorite flavor. I love you!";

●     Wang Cheng’s restaurant is called “Jade Turtle”;

●     Marinette still likes fashion and wants to be a fashion designer, what's perfect for Adrien who has a tailor by father;

●     Adrien's life is perfect for him. Gabriel is a sophisticated tailor who has his boutique full of beautiful clothes and stuff, Emilie is a novel actress and always shows up in TV and Nathalie is a close friend of them who helps Gabriel in the boutique;

●     Adrien doesn't know what he wants in his life, so he spends his time with fencing; language lessons (he gains money by teaching kids like Manon how to write orange in English); being his father experimental model of teen male clothing; and writing poetry cuz he's a lovesick;

●     Gabriel’s boutique is called “Gabriel”. He would put “Agreste Boutique” but he thought that people would go after him because of Emilie’s work and not because of his real talent in clothing. This decision was supported by Emilie and Nathalie as well;

●     Due to Nathalie's close relationship with the Agreste's, Adrien calls her "Aunt Nath";

●     Nathalie and Gabriel have a sister/brother relationship and they’re actually step-siblings. Mrs. Sancoeur and Mr. Agreste, two widows, had married each other in the past so they grew like a family. Nathalie didn’t consider herself like part of it but Gabriel, Emilie and, especially Adrien, try to fix this;

●     Emilie had arranged a date between Nathalie and Armand D’Argencourt, Adrien’s fencing teacher, once;

●     Nino is Adrien's best buddy and have weekly plans to help his bro get his girl;

●     Alya is Marinette's best friend and runs a blog about Misterbug and Lady Noire (I don’t have a name for it yet). She was a little bit aware of Adrien's big crush but this became a real thing to believe after Animan's episode;

●     Plagg refers to Adrien like “Goldilocks” and he calls Marinette “Pigtails”;

●     Plagg is the chaotic sarcastic little bro Marinette never had. He gives her some Salem Energy;

●     Tikki is Adrien's poetry consultor. He always shows her his poems to Marinette because he never will have courage to show her properly;

●     She also is a good friend of him and support him with all her heart;

●     Who's Hawkmoth? Master Fu... I like him but someone must be the bad guy and I want to try something different.

●     He had his original backstory but except that he lost the whole the miraculous box that was founded by these mysterious trio (cof cof Tom, Sabine and Wang cof cof) and all he has with him is Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous;

●     Marianne is Fu's Mayura and also runs the "Madame Lenoir’s Sewing Club", in which Gabriel participates;

●     Master Fu is owner of an ancient/eastern things store and Marinette works for him because she doesn’t want to be a useless niece to Wang and want to buy some things with her own money;

●     Wang is the miraculous guardian and actual holder of the Turtle by now and some way he keeps this secret from Marinette but not from Adrien;

       ○   who discovers by need and they agreed in not involving her in this mess cuz she might be hurt by HM and stuff... but Adrien doesn't really know what's going on like Marinette is Lady Noire and is dying to be part of this whole “guardian secret” (but it’s the same problem from the original);

       ○     but Wang appears more often for her as her uncle and gives the necessary wise word in time of crisis so she just know what to do and don’t live totally in the dark;

 (I’ll update this post with its part 2 in the future)

[ewdaviddd]

folklore think piece

for a lower case album such as this, i will be writing a lowercase think piece on the subject. i will not explain why. you get it or you don’t.

the 1: i have never been in love or any type of romantic relationship that left me with lasting feelings of any kind. but, on my fourth listen through of this song today, what once was just a promising and fun intro to this peasant girl summer gut punch, brought me to actual tears as i sat on the toilet in my lime green childhood bathroom as if i were mourning the one that got away (another great song). however, i am an expert on being hung up on the past, the “what could have been”, and made up hypotheticals. this song also introduces the film motif seen a lot in this album. i think dating an actor has really gotten to her. anyway what a killer way to begin, top notch stuff. how can a song be so fun and so soul crushing at the same time?

cardigan: when did taylor wear black lipstick? this is important to me. an old cardigan is an inherently bisexual article of clothing. that is not an opinion. i read it somewhere today and i believe it. this is the tip of the queer-coding ice berg in folklore, never fear. another reference, “tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy”. this year i wrote a movie script where both peter and wendy were both gay. coincidence? probably. basically this one is classic taylor poetry on every level and it being one of a trio in a larger story makes it that much better. yet again, high school romance is not a universal experience (like for me for instance) but haunting my “what-ifs” is going to haunt me for a long time. and the thought of someone saying i was their favorite cardigan makes me want to scream into a pillow.

the last great american dynasty: my favorite ts songs have always been the ones with detailed characters and stories and this one introduces the trope of the “mad woman” who comes back later on as well a long with many fun character details. at first this song is just cheeky and cute, very visual, a fun world to jump into. but then this particular stretch of lines makes your heart drop into your chest and reminds you why taylor isn’t just always fun and always cute and always creative, she also holds the ability to nimbly sock you in the gut when you least expect: “fifty years is a long time / holiday house sat quietly on that beach / free of women with madness, their men and bad habits / and then it was bought by me.” my jaw is still on the floor. and i’ve never bought a house myself. but i’ve spent numerous christmases having a marvelous time ruining everything (so i’ve been told) so this song still applies to my life.

exile (ft. bon iver): i’m gonna be honest. for as long as i can remember i have strongly disliked bon iver and i never remembered why. it is a matter of principle at this point. i just don’t trust him. but then taylor announced she wrote a song with him which filled me with tremendous anxiety. but i can rest easy. much like “the last time” this song is a ts and male artist collaboration i can get behind. also the film motif again: the only time i’ve left a theatre when i didn’t like a movie was never because movie tickets are so expensive and if i’m shelling out 11 dollars to sit in a chair, i’m staying the whole time no matter how bad the ending. but i probably would have left my sister’s keeper if i had seen it before if i’m being honest. so i get it. thats why i read spoilers for everything i watch before watching it, because the anxiety of worrying about how it ends make me not enjoy it in the first place. the end of this song: the call and response felt… ethereal? i felt like i was watching a broadway musical from the splash zone seats, crying as i was spat on.

my tears ricochet: this song is what i picture stepping outside in the middle of the night when an inch or so of snow has just fallen and i can see the flakes fall in front of a street light sounds like. or the scorned secret ex lover throwing themselves onto the coffin demanding to know why they weren’t enough.   which is to say it feels like a sign from some sort of god. yet again, haunting is brought up, an overt reference to the fact that this album will live in my brain rent free for eternity. for some reason this song reminds me of the relationship between hamilton and burr when burr kills hamilton. that could be because i just watched the disney+ recording last week. one lives, one dies, but neither survive, both pay for it. Which is a super romantic and understanding view on murder. both musical experiences equally chilling and moving. if i die under mysterious circumstances this will for sure be played at the funeral.

mirrorball: first off, this is my mom's favorite which is very important. also, it has skewered a very specific but also universal insecurity of mine; existing just to please others and yet miserably failing. it is comforting that ts is not a “natural’ and feels she must always “try try try” because i too lack natural ability, but also rarely “try” even just the one time. the best way i can describe listening to this song is walking through a silent disco where everyone else is listening to some classic lady gaga jam and you are listening to a calming lullaby sung very far away. but don’t let the soothing sounds fool you. it still will have you reflecting on what it means to look and be looked at. a dark rabbit whole, like falling through the looking glass. i’ve never actually read that book though so i could be wrong.

seven: i’m dumb and on my first listen of this song i thought she “hit her peak” at 7 clock as opposed to age seven. but i always saw taylor swift as someone with an early bedtime. also a fun discovery while writing this, “seven” is the 7th song on the track list. clever. although this song is young and innocent and so nostalgic for a time when screaming ferociously was a widely accepted form of expression, it also sounds like a very old secret someone is whispering to me. a love from long ago that lasts beyond the person being in your life, passed down to me and it all just sounds a little gay. not just because of the specific line to hiding in the closet. but that certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. when i was seven i was definitely in love with girls and assumed that was just what friendship was, playing pirates and making plans of running away together.

august: the eighth track for the eighth month. her mind. also my birth month so that’s special. controversial opinion: from what i’ve read most people seem to think illicit affair is the third song in the triage of teen love. i will strongly make the case that it's actually this one. first of all, the subject: a short lived summer fling, which is specifically mentioned later in “betty”. the central heartbreak of this song is liking someone who always belonged to someone else. yes, this song is a window into a different summer, far from pandemic central and the escapist imagery is delightful. but a whole song from the pov of the “other woman” to james and betty is just so much more fun. and there are two more specific lyrics that prove my point. “remember when i pulled up and said "get in the car”” you will see later comes back from the other person’s perspective. and most of all: the repeated line, “meet me behind the mall”? only teenagers make plans to meet up behind a mall. i rest my case. so now we have cardigan and august. two pieces of the puzzle.

this is me trying: i’m glad i now have a succinct message to send to anyone when they ask me what the hell i’m doing at any given moment. this song just sounds like regret and waste in the most self-assured and confident way. this is “back to december” with the training wheels off.  i have no apologies for my efforts at wasting all my potential. but in this song, taylor has opened her arms to me in a warm embrace and has forgiven me for all i’ve done wrong and reminds me to not take for granted the “try”. okay mom. i’m crying again, but okay.

illicit affair: this is the kind of thing that makes you feel sixteen, living in a dull suburb, while secretly screwing your 38 year old married neighbor who’s rich but wants to be an artiste. aka like a character in euphoria or something. it’s sexy and dangerous until you think about it and then it's just dingy and creepy. but this song starts and stays beautiful. most importantly, this song is too sad and depressing frankly, to be a part of the trilogy. we could never forgive james for leaving such a mess and making her a fool. you don’t want to be this girl. you want to walk up to her and shake her and yell “you exist and will not be ruined by any dumb man”. and that’s feminism.

invisible string: is it reductive if i say this one’s about joe? all my non-stan friends have asked me which ones are about him. we forgive them and point them in this direction. because it is lovely and beautiful that we are all tied to our soulmate for our whole lives before we ever meet them (because that would in fact mean that there is someone out there for everyone which might be naive or dumb but i am both of those things and whats the point of living if you don’t believe in the power of love). this honestly gives me “begin again” vibes in the best way. it’s red-era level with the wisdom of lover-era tay. sublime.

mad woman: the second mention of the “mad woman” as both taylor herself and the character in the story. as usual, tay stays calling out double standards and the manipulation of women into “going crazy” for expressing reasonable anger. I, personally, wish i could say “fuck you forever” without someone saying i’m “overreacting”. this is my least favorite song on the album and i’d still listen to it three times in a row and need to resist the urge to set a man’s lawn on fire. just girly things.

epiphany: i know she said this one is about her grandfather’s experience in the military but all i imagine is a slow montage of harry style’s character in “dunkirk” on the beach. and it’s beautiful. and much like my sophomore in high school self reading “all quiet on the western front” it evokes a pain from deep inside me that engulfs a loss i could never describe and a sadness too awful to witness. you will listen to this song and feel absolutely powerless to the will of the universe and it’s cruelty. and the faint but steady heart monitor beep in the background… i’ve never seen “grey’s anatomy” but i can imagine why it has so many fans sobbing. and let me end on this: two soldiers in some old war (meaning both men based on dunkirk) watching each other like this and living and dying together…gay.

betty: the first verse was pulled directly out of my subconscious fantasy of being in love in high school and it being so wonderful and painful and dramatic. and taylor riding a skateboard… is a mood. the song has been out for less than a week and it’s already a cold take to talk about how this is her gayest song to date (close runner-ups being reputation’s “dress” and “cardigan”). but of course i will still talk about it. the lyrics embody such authentic awkward gay energy (see the lesbian in booksmart for reference) and having been a 17 year old only three years ago, i can say with reasonably good authority that no 17 year old straight boy could stand in front of a crowd of peers and beg forgiveness from a girl he hurt. it’s just not realistic. these are all awkward, over-dramatic, young girls stumbling through love. and it’s awesome. james is the speaker of this song, and the subject of “august”, the summer fling that was never truly there due to james’ love for betty, the titular role of this song. thus completing the love triangle. and there are so many obvious references in this song to both “august” and “cardigan”. rhyming cardigan with car again makes me want to light myself on fire in the best way. i love it. “i dreamt of you all summer long” is the final nail in the coffin for the girl in “august” who was clearly just a place-holder. totally separate from taylor swift, my favorite word is porch. so the amount of times it appears in her lyrics is wonderful. say it out loud. it just feels nice. anyway, this song makes me want to be young and dumb and in love. the second can really only be tolerated because of the first and third. i hope the story has a happy-ending. if james were a boy i’d wish him the plague.

peace: the coming-of-age movie starring james and betty (and inez) is over. we have come to “the age” i guess. there’s a thought that’s gonna fester. if this song was just the line, “would it be enough if i could never give you peace?” over and over for four minutes it would still smash me to pulp and fill my body with helium gas. i can and will cause a car wreck when this comes on the aux. if this song is what being grown up is like (bare in mind grown up to me is like, 30) then i’m ready to be done coming of age. because i already worry if i’ll be at all enough for anyone and way too much for someone at the same time. but like all good poetry, this song isn’t about what it “means”, but how it “feels”. and this is new york city, the summer, pouring rain, a long walk home, desperately fearing and hoping they are there waiting for you.

hoax: a one-sided conversation between me and my stubborn clinical depression. i too, constantly stand alone on the cliff demanding a reason. one has not yet been presented. it operates both within and and against me. i could be bigger and stronger than it. but instead i tend to it like a prickly plant. (“no other sadness in the world will do”). there is nothing both sadder and funnier then the scene in “avatar: the last airbender” when prince zuko stands alone on a cliff screaming at the sky for lightning to strike him. i don’t know why this song reminds me so much of that. what a way to end such an emotional rollercoaster. it is so emotionally draining that it simply forces me to start folklore again from the top and listen to it all over again.  or take a long therapeutic nap.

there are no skips. and it will still surprise you on your 267th listen. proceed with caution.

i knew you, in a past life maybe. i have not met you yet, but folklore has made me believe you exist.

@taylorswift 10/10 good work

@taylornation this had to be shared and i don’t have a twitter so