#it smells bad but it's home methinks

[ferretpup]

this is where i blog from :3c

[prettyboykatsuki]

Does methinks have more thoughts on alpha togame they'd like to share?

tags for gender neutral + afab!reader (no mention of specific secondary sex but they can smell togames scent), dubcon (just out of rut shennanigans), mean togame, rough sex, omegaverse fuckery, a mention of face-fucking 18+

SO GLAD U ASKED ANON...

__

Togame tells you about his rut two full weeks in advance and makes a point to emphasize that you're not allowed to see him.

He never tells you no, though sometimes he likes to pretend. His immediate, firm rejection of spending time together during his rut strikes you as odd. Even more, he's being totally unreasonable by refusing to explain to you. You try not to take it heart because Togame is by all other means, perfect. And the way he lets you down is the same as always - kind, relaxed playful. Tells you it's not a big deal but still.

Still. It's unusually serious and worries you all the same.

He won't explain why he can't be with you during his ruts either, doesn't bother with the details and smooths past it when youpry. You snoop around Shishitoren searching for answers, but every member who's been with Togame long enough to know just gives you wide eyes and dodges your question. Choji answers you after some prying, with a wide toothed smile and a shake of his head.

"He's not really himself," And then a little kinder. "He's probably just worried about doing something bad to you. His ruts are kinda scary."

If Choji is saying so, you can't help but believe it's true. Still, Togame is your partner and he's always good to you, albeit a little difficukt. It feels like the least you can do is to be with him through it so he doesn't have to go through it by himself. You try arguing with him but he's always firm, even jokes he'll lock you out of his apartment if you show up.

It's maybe a bad idea for you to go over, but you can't help it. It's the first time he's been in rut in your relationship and the thought of him being by himself troubles you. So you go, you even bring things he might need.

You can immediately feel the suffocating, oppressive air when you arrive to his apartment. It's so strong it makes your skin prickle regardless of your sensitivity to pheromones. They practically seep under the door, make the hairs on your neck stand. A signal to danger, telling you to run while you're ahead.

But you're stubborn, so you stay and ring the door bell. It takes a few times before Togame really answers.

The first thing you notice is how different he looks. His hair is down and his glasses are off and his expression is... hard to describe. Dilated pupils, heaving breaths - something wild about him you rarely see, not even in fights. You remember what Choji says about him not being himself and decide it's accurate. Togame barely looks like himself.

"Why're you..." He shakes his head, covering his face with his hand to cover his nose. "Go home. Now."

You're being stubborn, but it's frustrating. "Let me in. I just want to to help you—"

"Go home. I'm saying this for you. Go."

It's petulant but you shake your head and frown. "I'm not going home."

He gives you a long look, scrubbing a hand over his face. His scent gets stronger, intoxicating - makes you lungs feel hot and your chest tight. You let out a shaky little breath and cross your arms. It takes a minute before you feel yourself be tugged forward. It happens too quickly for you to make any sense of it. Your bag is dropped onto the ground, back pushed against the door while Togame pins your wrists between his hands.

His voice is thick, lacking his usual bravado. "Don't be stubborn and go home." He says, the force of his grip getting tighter as if to drive in his point. "I'm hanging on by a fucking thread right now,"

"I'll be fine," You make sure to meet his eyes. "It's fine even if you hurt me. I'm not gonna break into a million pieces. I'm here willingly because I love you,"

He laughs. There's something caustic to it. "You're really have a talent for testing my patience."

You can feel the threads of his control snap when Togame finally kisses you. It's rough, more teeth than lip - a harsh clattering, a desire to dominate that bleeds itself into the gesture. He rarely reveals so much of his desire towards you with so little coaxing.

His scent is so thick you cant breathe. It's oppressive, washes away your own with no remorse. Your pressed so squarely into the wall there's nowhere for you to go, nowhere to run now even if you wanted too. The fabric of your clothes tears like paper under his grip, leaves you gasping as he grips you. It's bruising and quick, makes your heart hammer half-way between fear and full blown lust.

His voice is muddled with animalistic need but the words - his convictions are spoken with unmistakable clarity. "I won't go easy on you." Another nip, a bite - a harsh hand coming down on your ass that makes you yelp. "I'll fuck you until you cry and make you wish you ran away. Even then, you won't get any sympathy from me."

True to his word, Togame shows you no mercy. He fucks you right at is doorway with your face pressed to the wood and makes you squirt on his welcome mat. Fucks you with a leg up in the entrance to his living room, pinning you down even when you want to run away. His entire house ends up soiled before you even make it the bedroom - cum dripping on his counters, saliva from face-fucking you staining his couch. He fucks you up against a window and holds you up while he does it once - telling you his neighbors are going to see if you don't cum on his cock fast enough.

By the time you get to his room, your whole body is throbbing from all you've endured. You catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror and you're covered in bitemarks and hickies. Too fucked out in a daze, Togame is still relentless. Still hard after cumming in you so many times and still with enough energy to pin your knees up - fucking you with your spine at an angle with just as much aggression as before.

He's barely sober enough to collect himself when your gazes meet for the first time in a while.

He smiles at you and it should be scary but it arouses you instead. "My ruts last days," He tells you, meeting your mouth in a sloppy kiss - through drool and sweat "Let's do out best together."

You can barely breathe, nodding in a daze as you resign yourself to fate

[morningstar-chronicles]

Could you give me some mean shifting/manifesting motivation I keep procrastinating and you seem like the type to be able to do that(I mean that in the nicest way possible and i rlly like ur posts:3)

this is so sweet omg i might be bad at motivation but i'll try so hard for u

imagine:

your s/o (if you have one) hugging you and they smell like them and it's soft and it's warm and it feels like home

your parents telling you they're proud of you (ok this one was me projecting a little but shhhh)

all the different types of food and drinks there'll be!!! you could literally script in anything isn't that insane??

your wardrobe!!!

your ideal friend group going out to clubs or for late night drives where you get to pick the music or grabbing coffee/tea with you

all the endless things you could learn!!! you have an eternity to do it after all!!!

you can make magic real??? thats insane to me!!

me personally i'm excited about my perfumes/makeup selection in my DRs 😌

gender euphoria!!!

living without fear of getting hate-crimed would be nice methinks 🥲

general main character syndrome is totally fine because it's literally your DR babes ahhhhh 🫶 you have full ability to be a total mary sue and literally no one will bat an eye if you don't want them to. have as many mc moments as you like!!!

you can experience new colours if you want to. you could have a wider colour range available to you. have the corneas of a butterfly idk

or you could smell new scents or hear new sounds!! experience things beyond mortal human comprehension!

you could even shift to a reality where shifting itself is normalized and is a common practice

me personally i'm shifting to somewhere where my religion is more mainstream and i get sabbats off of school/work 😗

other blogs please feel free to continue the chain!!! i tried to come up with as many as i could but i'm eepy tonight 😞

[http-caedis]

Bakura Headcanons/Ramblings 👻

Hehehe remember however long ago when I was like yeah I’ll make a post abt my own personalized Bakura, yeah well this is the post I am not accepting criticism for what I say is FACT

- So just as a refresher my Bakura uses they/them/ghost/rot pronouns mhm mhm 🫡

- Methinks to fit along with the creepy n unsettling vibe rot has, they need to be taller

- 5’9 is not enough my ghost boy is now 6’2

- I need them to loom over majority of people

- Anyways Bakura most definitely is the leader of some underground cult and won’t admit it but with all the things they’re able to do it makes you think otherwise 😭

- “Hey remember how you lost your ring in the river, so turns out with all the constant movement in the water it ended up in the ground and I had someone get it they drowned but it’s okay and now I have it, so here you go 🥰”

- Bakura’s home would get that boy ARRESTED

-not that what’s in there is necessarily illegal,,, but it’s definitely concerning

- there’s like taxidermy and like medical preservation jars and ngl their house smells like straight canned ASS

- They say the smell of death is distinct and you’ll know it when you smell it,,,, well let’s just say you’re gonna be on high alert in ghosts home

- speaking of smells, me thinks Bakura doesn’t smell bad per se, but they smell,,, clean…? Like… that sterile smell that hospitals have, that’s Bakura

- they have a pet crow and snake

- The Crow is named Nevermore and the snake is Apep

- speaking of which I think Bakura would love Edgar Allen Poe

- which is why rot named the crow Nevermore

- anyways Bakura would be the worst person to go to if you need to vent

- Yugi: Yeah yknow im just really sick of Kaiba undermining and belittling me it kinda hurts…

- Bakura: Want me to slip cyanide into his next meal? I’m running low but I think it’s going to a good cause

- Yugi: n O‼️

- remember how I said how the stuff in their house wasn’t necessarily illegal,,,

-yeah I change my mind

- Bakura definitely owns some chemicals that the average person shouldn’t have,,,

- sure some poisons or general chemicals are okay and legal to own in small amounts, but with Bakura interesting hobbies, it’s not a small amount

- on some Jeffrey dahmer shit ngl ghost is like chemically removing all the meat n shit off animal bones

- They display the bones in different part of their house

- It’s not Even like, oh that’s a huge sign of a future serial killer, it’s truly just morbid curiosity with Bakura 😭

- Not that Bakura isn’t necessarily capable of it 👀

- “I didn’t kill Kaiba. The cyanide killed him, I just placed it in his food”

- I dunno why Kaiba is the victim in this list 😭

- I think that’s enough for now this list is long 😭😭

- Be sure to like n subscribe for more Yami Headcanons 🫡

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #319

...Fwhoof. Sephiroth, I've been on my feet for a total of over 6 hours today. I am tired.

I'm not in bad spirits, though. I haven't fully recovered from the long walk in the woods, methinks; my legs have been just a little bit cranky since. Still, today I went to work. And, naturally, that involves me being on my feet continuously for about 4 hours, constantly moving and doing things.

...I was having some kind of off-day at work, I think. My head felt... sludgy. And everything felt just a little bit scary for reasons I couldn't quite identify. I kept dropping things, and I kept having scattered attention, forgetting stuff in the middle of doing it. It was weird.

With these braces in, I am, unfortunately, generally less inclined to put things into my face, and this includes water, for some reason, even though I'm allowed to drink water with the braces on. I concluded at some point that I must be dehydrated, so when I returned home, I drank some water and felt better within 20 minutes, and that was very good.

Before returning home, though, I had to return all those bottles and cans that I got from BB's and N's house. And so I went to the place with the special machines and... I was a bit too zonked to think to get a picture of the machine. I did take a picture of the receipt, but... there are watermarks all over it that would make it a bit too easy to identify where I'm at.

Anyway, I tried to donate the receipt to the cause of "holiday potluck", which is what I remember being told by the leader of that one team huddle I went to. But when I went to the place where I was supposed to turn it in, the person there didn't know what I was talking about. And that was confusing. I'm hoping to get it sorted out by Monday.

I spent a chunk of time after that picking up various odds and ends for my house. I got some stuff for the baking experiment (not gonna tell you what!), some more deli meats, a few various other odds and ends that I'm too tired to remember, and...!!! A bone-in leg of lamb!!!

...It's not too terribly often that my store has those. And I love preparing it, so I made sure to snatch one up!!! I probably won't be able to cook it for another day or two, but that's fine. I'll still show you how I like to do it, once I get a chance...

I made a lunch when I got home. I used up the rest of the leftover salmon, and, oh!! Some of the box of greens I got from the grocery today, and some onions, and some of the leftover goat cheese, and also some crushed-up Fritos. Topped it all off with some ranch dressing. I filled it out with a bowl of berries (which I also got from the store today!!) and a kombucha...

...You'd certainly be welcome to partake if you were here. I wish I could give you a bowl of such wholesome deliciousness, but alas, a picture is the best I can do...

...

Well. I checked on my tiny pumpkin seedling.

...And as you can see, it is slightly less tiny!!! And a little greener than before!! And the seed is no longer touching the soil!!! Look at it go!!! Sproutin' up from the dirt and makin' it look easy!!!! Fuck yeah!!!!

...I wonder what it'll look like tomorrow...!!!

In any case, the broth in the crockpot smelled amazing, and I decided that it simmered long enough. So I began the process of straining it:

...I know. I know. It looks really gross. But I promise, it smells FANTASTIC, and it's gonna taste fantastic, too, once it's done being seasoned!!

So... I unplugged the crockpot, and waited for it to cool, and got everything all set up...

So one of the things you need to make this work is a wire mesh strainer...

...And a cheesecloth:

...And they come all packaged and folded up like that, but once you unfold them, they look like this...

...They're pretty big. And also pretty flimsy:

...But that's why you fold it up in layers! Folding it up gives the fibers strength while still allowing liquids to easily squish out!

So you plop the folded cheesecloth into the wire mesh strainer, and then you plop your veggie scraps, a little at a time, into the cheesecloth:

...If it's cool enough, you can begin squishing out the water right away, but... it wasn't quite cool enough. The squished-out water was still VERY hot, much to my chagrin. But still, I squished most of the water out of this clump of veggie scraps...

...Bones can't usually be squished, though, so you gotta take those out and set them to the side...

...J got some additional silly pictures, too, because why not, I guess; apparently he likes to say weird things so that I'll make strange faces, haha...

...He also decided to take pictures of the slippers I was wearing, for some reason, hahaha:

Fact of the matter was, though, that the veggie scraps were still a bit too hot to handle. So I decided to scoop them out and just let them sit in the strainer while J and I went to some haunted walk in a historical town some distance from us...

...The scraps will simply drip into the bowl that the wire mesh strainer is over. It's all good. And they'll cool down in the process. They'll be a lot easier to handle tomorrow.

The walk was... nothing really to write home about. It was underwhelming. It was mostly just a history walk, about an hour and a half in length, that they tried to make "spooky" with ghost stories, but... well. Given my influences and weird way of perceiving the world around me... a lot of the places and locations seemed like ordinary Tuesday stuff.

...Like... yes. Supposedly, this or that building has the spooks of dead people chilling in them. And... if so, then... so what? They ain't hurtin' nobody. And if they do start hurtin' somebody, they can be gotten rid of, so like...??? I fail to see the issue. I fail to see what's so scary about them.

One of the stories talked about the ghost of a dead cat rubbing up on people's legs and creeping them out, but like...? I don't think I'd be creeped out. Mostly, I'd just be sad that I can't pet them or leave them snacks in a meaningful way.

...But the company was good! J and I went with my elderly friend P and his sister Jo. We had a lot of interesting conversation about the nature of reality and other related stuff afterwards! We even stopped at a cute little place for gelato and hot chocolate!

...Why yes, Sephiroth; that is a pumpkin spice gelato in the image above.

The hot chocolate can have syrup of various kinds added to it, too:

...Why yes, Sephiroth; this is a bottle of pumpkin pie syrup:

...And yes, I absolutely did add it to my hot chocolate. And I absolutely did get a small cup of pumpkin gelato.

...Want some...?

...You can't even begin to understand what things of mine I'd give up just to be able to give things like this to you.

...

...Well. I'm home now. And by the time we got home, the broth and the scraps were more than cool enough to handle, but... we got back so late that I didn't have time to do anything with them other than put them in the refrigerator. I'll have to finish up tomorrow.

...If I have the energy, that is. It is 12:54am. The lunch with J's tailwheel airplane instructor was rescheduled to today. I gotta get up at 6am.

...Ain't about to let that stop me from writing a letter to you, though.

I do gotta get to bed at this point, though. J and I will likely be out until at least 5 or 6pm. I'll do my best to get nice video and pictures for you. It'll be good!

I love you so much. Please stay safe out there as you do your things, okay?

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[carmenized-onions]

chap 4 - IT’S ONION TIME

When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute - he is SO cute

Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all - they’re so???

Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well. - in more ways than one!!

He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. - CHIPPY SHUT THE FUCK UP. love yourself!!

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything. - both of them angsting next to each other:(((

You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it - EVIL AUTHOR EVIIIIIL

the teenagers in their heads should come out more often methinks

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?” “…I like Connections.” - THEYRE SO ADORABLE CMON

Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit. - hehehehe

And he’s prett— - he is prett-

“I like your apartment.” - i like you

the bread i’m so jealous

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.” - she’s so sweet!! also bet the labels are cut

“Do you not like Irish Spring?” - the way he cares!! oh!!

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.” - a syd fan👀

You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back. “All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” - THIS!!!! i need this back

“the fruity stuff—“ - she IS the fruity stuff

“I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” - all of this is so funny, YOU are so funny!!

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid - i’m gonna full on sob and rock back and forth cause omg???

Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22. - the way they’re so close already ugh i love!!

It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this - precious!!

“I’ll get you something too.” - she!!

Kidding. Unless? - AKJEJDJEJEJE

shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. - inky :((

also love how you describe what she’s wearing!! world building!!

and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar - CHERRY. it’s all cherry? always has been

Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful. - always beautiful

you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from - lowkey love that tho cause it shows how talented she is!!

“Do your Uncle a favour,” - he calls himself her uncle:’)

He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... - she’s so smitten

“You liked Mikey.” - GOD DAMN

and the way she’s bold and italics!! she’s carmy but also herself oh

“I like to think ahead.”“Smart girl.” - she is!! and he respects the hustle, love that

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.” - OMG ITS ALL !!!

He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more - this family, man they’re certainly something

“No cops!” - though the ambulance is not coos i still agree with the sentiment

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?” - JANSJEJDJ

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling. - LMFAOO I FORGET ABOUT THE OUTFIT EVERY TIME. also squid being gay and malfunctioning when she sees inky i love gfs

of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. - they’re so funny sjjssj

“Can you— can you yell again—?” - AUQHEUEJEJEJR????

“It looks tight.” - he’s so cuteee but also i udnerstand chippy’s want to be seen as an object of desire ughhh

He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is. - it is SO cute but also annoying, yes it can be both

“Just you.” - i’m gonna absolutely cry too

“What’s happening, she good?” - he’s so baby coded

“Condescending as fuck?” - tina is THAT GIRL

richie lighting up when she calls him a dad, yeah:’))))

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?” - NOT FAK????

The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second. - THEMMMMM

“I need you. T-There.” - AWWWWWW

how does this series not have all the likes and engagement in the world??? it’s the best one out there actually

Had to reset my computer EVERYTHING CRASHED GOD DOES NOT WANT THIS CHAPTER TO COME OUT TONIGHT, TOO BAD, THE ASK BINGE GOES ON

He’s so cute. They’re both so cute. They notice their absences! The (not) breathing thing is FULLY a thing I’ve done— I should’ve realized the AuDHD combo so long ago.

BOTH OF THEM THINKING THEY’RE RUINING EVERYTHING,,,, ahhhh this will transfer into everything they do out of bed, I fear. Clutch that metaphorical literal cubs bear, because it only get worse. I gotta go do my connections/Wordle tonight. I’ll gift it to myself after posting the chapter (only 4 more asks!! I think!!) I miss the teenagers in these two heads. I think they were both murdered in Zero Pulse. 

I wish I made bread. I’m trying to get into it when I move. There’s currently no bread time. But I’ll make bread time I will. Chip is part things I do part aspirations honestly. 

THE OLD SPICE!! HE CAres and also Chip loves the smell of her totally just platonic friend…. Interesting. Fruity stuff—

This guy i think so rarely gets an actual compliment on him as himself— Like absolutely no shade to Claire at all— But even she as the peace, I don’t remember her ever saying like you’re good— He get’s told he’s an excellent chef, but like. He’s never just been called good. He’s gonna need 20 antacids. 

LOVE picking out Inky’s outfits. It’s like playing the Sims. Or I could just say dress up like a normal person. Or i could say playing the sims—

I FORGOT ABOUT CHERRY FROM EDEN’S CLUB— MAN IT ALWAYS IS CHERRY ISN’T IT??? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??? They’ll call me a genius. 

Unc/Chip have such a weird wonderful relationship to me. I think in general I’ve always pictured Chip feeling strain because he’s always pulling that ‘i gave you a million billion dollars and i’m friends with your dad DO ME A FAVOUR!!!’ but he’s also fucking Uncle Jimmy. And she loves him for that. 

The circles are circling!! Gun in the first act baby she said she’d leap over the counter— She didn’t, but she had the opportunity!!

A RESOUNDING ACAB!! But we do love Social Service workers and the FD and EMS here Richie do some google searches— But tbf I believe when an ambulance is called police still show— At least that’s been my experience but maybe that’s a Canada thing? America holler back. Speaking of hollering, Syd show some respect to your girlfriend—

Fully they did the inflatable hot dog fight in my head— It happened in the span of 2 seconds but they did that again fully somehow

I can’t comment too much on the object of desire thing other than yes but I have a lot of thoughts on the subject that I will not be sharing with the class unless explicitly requested BUT WE CAN GO WHISPER ABOUT THIS LATER (I REALLY NEED TO RESPOND TO MY DMS MAN CRHSIT SORRY EVERYONE)

Fak is into the yelling canon. Canon canon canon. I mean are we all not seeing the VERY CLEAR RIVALS TO LOVERS COME ONNN

Thank you thank you thank you— I always think my engagement is crazy and then I look at the tags and everyone elses numbers— And don’t get me wrong I don’t mind at all them being lower, tbf we’re a long ass unfinished series, but MAN SOMETIMES IM JELLY

It’s okay though, the people that are here I adore to hear from and that’s enough for me!!

LONGING YEARNING-- MY SCHEDULE DEADASS

[spaceratprodigy]

OC Questionnaire

Thank you for the tags @bleumanouche @darkfire1177 @hibernationsuit 💖💕

👇🖤 Faith and Iris Fun Facts! 🖤👇

Name:

❤ - Faith Hawthorne (abandoned her Earth last name in an attempt to detach herself from her former life)

💜 - Iris (never gave her a last name tbh)

Nickname(s):

❤ - Faith: Captain, Cap, Boss

💜 - Iris: Pip, Sunshine, Charmer

Gender:

❤ - Faith: cis woman but fluid in how she likes to present herself

💜 - Iris: cis woman (and currently on her journey of self discovery regarding how she likes to present herself)

Star Sign:

❤ - Faith: Leo

💜 - Iris: n/a (her birthday is undecided at the moment and I can't go by when I created her bc most of y'all don't know just how long she's actually been around [since I was a kid tbh she was kinda sorta technically my Very First lone wanderer])

Height:

❤ - Faith: around 5' 6" methinks

💜 - Iris: oughhh I am genuinely inconsistent with her when I'm drawing bc I can never decide What I Actually Want buuuut lmao let's ballpark somewhere around 5' 8" give or take I'm so bad at this

Orientation:

❤ - Faith: bisexual

💜 - Iris: bisexual + poly

Nationality:

❤ - Faith: American (but has immediate family from Puerto Rico)

💜 - Iris: American (undecided where her family comes from)

Favorite Fruit:

❤ - Faith: cherries, watermelon

💜 - Iris: blueberries, apples, oranges

Favorite Season:

❤ - Faith: spring and fall (she loves the gentle warmth, sunshine, and blooming flowers of spring but really loves the coziness and the colors of fall)

💜 - Iris: fall and winter (she really favors the colder weather and the darkness that swallows up everything)

Favorite Flower:

❤ - Faith: peonies, spider lillies, sunflowers, roses

💜 - Iris: irises, hydrangeas, hyacinths, lily of the valley

Favorite Scent:

❤ - Faith: vanilla and sweet bakery smells, old books and paper smells, a nice cologne, the smell of the forest when she would go hiking on Earth, gasoline

💜 - Iris: gentle floral scents, wood and sawdust, the smells of spices and nice hearty soups cooking, petrichor

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate:

❤ - Faith: Tea

💜 - Iris: Coffee

Average Hours of Sleep:

❤ - Faith: very little generally, she can wake up early at the same time every day without fail bc of her body's weird internal clock but she struggles with insomnia + nightmares and is often Very Exhausted

💜 - Iris: ough my girl pushes herself way too hard and doesn't have a healthy sleep schedule and will honestly keep going until she just crashes for HOURS in a deep sleep and it worries her companions (for her safety especially but also bc they know she talks in her sleep and she also has nightmares frequently)

Dog or Cat Person:

❤ - Faith: both!

💜 - Iris: dogs preferably!

Dream Trip:

❤ - Faith: anywhere she could see the stars or get lost in the woods

💜 - Iris: if she could, everywhere tbh! Iris is adventurous and loves traveling but pre-war she did dream of going on a road trip across the country

Favorite Fictional Character:

❤ - Faith: if the poster above her bunk wasn't proof enough, she has a fondness for Archibald Excelsior (HOWEVER my one half-joking half-serious answer is Inigo Montoya bc I mean c'mon)

💜 - Iris: nowadays she absolutely adores The Silver Shroud!

Number of Blankets They Sleep With:

❤ - Faith: 2 usually! The one that used to belong to Alex Hawthorne and one that she "borrowed" from Max (i.e. his blanket he covered her up with during one of her bad insomnia nights when she had finally fallen asleep and she never returned it [she doesn't want to admit it helps her fall asleep better bc it smells like him and it makes her feel safe and calm])

💜 - Iris: it depends honestly! I would say usually 1 or 2 but it depends a lot on the weather, if she's sleeping at home base or out on the road making camp, depends who all she's sleeping with that night

Random Fact:

❤ - Faith: studied electrical engineering and mechanical engineering in college

💜 - Iris: I've been exploring the idea of Nicky being the one to give Iris her current haircut

open tag to anyone who wants to jump in!

[falling-star-cygnus]

if i have to make this account one more time cygnus is staying fallen and dead

anyway- domestic trigun au✨ cuz there should be more of those methinks

pt.1✨ Housing ✨

| Starting out with Nai, I feel like he'd have a very large house. It's sterile and clean but very well loved and personal. He has a large grand piano and the walls are covered with artwork he's made and photos of his family. It feels like the space between music scale lines, a tad suffocating and overwhelming if you've never read sheet music before, with a clinical aftertaste and the smell of iron and flowers pressing in

| Vash is somewhat the opposite, he lives in a small, cozy apartment. Its warm and lived in, pictures of the gang and his brother adorning the shelves as well as trinkets and souvenirs from his misadventures. He also has art he's been given and pieces he's commissioned from Nai and small businesses decorating his walls. It feels like stepping into a hug from someone twice your size, an old book smell tinged with undertones of desperate longing for company

| Meryl and Milly live together in the same apartment complex as Vash! Their house is very cozy, slightly bigger than Vash's, but you wouldn't know it from the sheer amount of stuffed animals and slippers and blankets and strewn about papers adorning almost every flat surface. It feels like stepping into a warm-colored abstract painting, with the smell of old paper and the taste of tooth-ache.

| Roberto lives across from Meryl and Milly. His house isn't really clean or dirty, stray alcohol bottles and cigarette butts are strewn about. He makes a point to clean it all up if his the kids come over to bug him. It has a sepia, blue, washed out vibe when you walk in, with an air of bitter-sweetness and hard scotch candies.

Wolfwood used to live in the orphanage with Livio to help Ms. Melanie out with the kids but she encouraged him to leave and live his life. Of course he'd always be welcome there, but she wants him to experience the world outside the built home they have. He parts on bad terms with Livio, the two clashing on whether to stay or leave. {vash helps them reconnect about six months after they first meet} It feels like saltwater, stinging and warm and pressing your tongue down to keep you quiet; the air of silence where it should not be

Now Wolfwood lives in a different apartment complex across from Vash, Milly, Meryl, and Roberto's. His house isn't very personalized at first, not lived in and cold feeling. As he gets to know the gang and Vash, though, it warms. He has blankets he got as gifts from the girls, pictures of everyone from Vash, a box of cigs from Roberto {which he kept, even after the box was smoked empty}. The warmth only increases when he reconnects with Livio. It feels watery and ashy at the same time, a sunset painting things orange and the mortifying ordeal of being known and loved by gentle people

[helianskies]

“you don’t scare me.” Arthur/Antonio

*cracks knuckles* time for a new au, methinks...

Tremors

Antonio does not know for how long exactly he has been sitting in that chair, staring at the same wall, fighting tight knots, and turning over the thought in his mind that says, just because you haven’t been killed yet does not mean that that can’t change. 

The night before, he had been in bed sleeping peacefully. And then, the worst thing imaginable happened: a pirate raid. 

That being said, it was not exactly… what Antonio imagined a raid would be like. There was less violence, less screaming, less fire, and more… organised, almost. Though, he himself woke to the sound of smashing glass, and didn’t even have a chance to get out of bed properly before his room seemingly became the raid’s epicentre…

One minute, Antonio had been in his home. The next, he had woken up with a throbbing head in that very room.

Outside, he hears the sea. He fears that land is already so far away. He fears that he is destined to die away from home. 

Antonio closes his eyes. His head still hurts. He is still so, so tired. For a moment, he nods off—and maybe for a few seconds, or maybe for a few minutes—but, once more, violence pries him fiercely from the grip of sleep with the slamming of a door, and Antonio opens his eyes once more.

Finally, his captor has decided to make himself known.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the stranger says, staying out of sight. "I trust that no one else has disturbed you just yet…?"

He does not humour the other with a response. Instead, he listens as the footsteps near, and then does his best to steel his nerves as the other pulls up a chair, legs scraping on the floor, and sits down opposite him.

“Forgive me for being a bit blunt, but you do speak English, right?” he is asked, and Antonio, though he does not provide a verbal reply, instead examining his company, has answered the question regardless: “Good. If you didn’t, I’d be worried.”

Antonio’s brows twitch and form a slight frown. That means ‘why?’ as he still refuses to talk.

“You’re the kid who speaks a library’s worth of languages, aren’t you?”

He is not a ‘kid’, he wants to point out, but instead he says nothing.

“That’s why you’re here.”

His silence remains firm. 

In light of this, the man—a pirate through and through, if the hat and partially-exposed chest and bad smell is anything to go by—leans forward, closer—too close, in fact. Antonio leans away from him, though there is not far he can go; the back of the chair stops him, and all the while, the other draws nearer. 

His hand reaches out. Antonio does not like where it is heading. Fingers start to curl. Antonio’s toes curl in turn. And then, those fingers grip the underside of Antonio’s seat and slowly, steadily drag the chair towards their owner. 

Antonio does not enjoy how close they end up, legs brushing against each other, only a couple inches of space remaining between them.

The smell worsens. 

“I have something in my possession that I need translating,” the other begins to say. “It’s not in French, Spanish—not even Dutch. But a little birdie told me there was someone near where we were docked—the son of a merchant sailor—who has a knack for languages.”

How Antonio’s existence has come to be known to someone like this man is beyond him. It seems that years of studying have indeed provided him a future, as he had always intended, but now he is not sure that this is the future he—

“You know, I thought it was considered rude to ignore someone…”

“There is a difference between ignorance and defiance.”

“Ahhh, so he does have a tongue.” The other smirks. “Good to know.”

“You want me to translate something,” Antonio goes on despite the growing taste of acid in his throat. 

“Mmh.”

“That is why you dragged me from my room, onto a ship, and started sailing away?”

“Yeah. Why, is that a problem?”

“It could be,” Antonio replies, “if it turns out I cannot translate whatever it is you want me to.”

At that notion, the other’s grin starts to fade. His relaxed posture ceases. And, in turn, what seems to have been relatively good humour, for a man of his calibre, becomes soured. 

Once more, Antonio finds his personal space invaded. Once more, Antonio is unable to back away.

“You’re going to translate what I tell you to translate,” the other insists, “and if you can’t, then I have no use for you. And for that problem, I have an easy solution.”

The Spaniard swallows. “You don’t scare me,” he says, but the words hold no real weight or conviction. 

“And yet, there is a faint tremble in your cheek,” the blonde remarks as his fingers suddenly dare graze over the skin of Antonio’s face, “and you can’t quite seem to look at me—not in a way that a brave man would.”

Antonio has no room to shy away from his touch, but the intention is there, and clear. The other pulls his hand away after a few more seconds of no doubt relishing in the reaction that has been plucked from his captive, and, once more, Antonio is able to breathe.

With that, the other gets up. He walks away. Antonio turns his head to try and find him, but hands settle down on his shoulders and lips are suddenly too close to his ear, breath tickling his skin. 

“You and I are about to be good friends. So, friend, have you got a pretty name to go with that pretty face of yours?”

The brunette takes a slow breath. “Antonio,” he offers up without protest. “My name is Antonio.”

“Mmh, not too bad, I suppose,” muses the other. “Well, Antonio, in that case, you can call me Arthur.”

And, with that, Antonio finds himself alone all over again.

[ final wordcount, 999 words; prompt list here! ]

[endious]

UMM I NEED TO SEE HOW YOU PORTRAY LIU PLS AND THANK YOU

imma be real with you im in love with the idea of what liu COULD be but have never cared to actually look into his story or whatever SO ? we are going based off vibes my twisted mind has created. whether it makes sense or not or isnt “liu” or whatever I DONT CARE ! i havent put any dedication or thought into any character besides jeff LMFAO so i am struggling to grasp my idea of liu’s character. i’ll def work on it though in the future methinks

liu has aggressive moments with you. he doesnt exactly mean to be so rough but its so damn difficult when you refuse to talk to him or when you stare for too long at the stitches and scars on his face. stop staring at him like that. stop it. stop.

it’s a red blur for him when he becomes someone he “isnt”. your cries, begs for forgiveness and apologies falling from your lips breaks his heart after he’s calmed down and all that’s left is broken objects, his knuckles bare and bloody and your body trembling on the floor and shaking with sobs as you tell him you’re sorry over and over like a broken record. it hurts liu to see you like that, it wasnt him that did it.. it couldn’t be him. liu wasnt like that. that had to be someone else— sully is who he called his bursts of anger. maybe he really did become a totally different person when provoked like his brother would claim way back in the past. maybe he really did morph into a monster from time to time but it was not liu and dont you ever try to say it was. just nod your head and agree to whatever he says because its best that way. things always go smoothly when you obey and comply and he’s happy when you do so why dont you just stay that way.

liu tries to hold you often at night and gets irritated when you tense up or try to pull away from his eerily warm touch. “it’s just me. why are you so scared?..” it takes a lot to run his patience out too. he wants to give you multiple chances to fix your mistakes and he wont immediately bash your head into the closest object like jeff would. liu likes to claim he is very caring, just like mom always was towards him. he’s trapped in his own sick fantasy of living a happy life with you to the point where he will ramble to you about all of his thoughts and ideas and plans for you to the point where it makes your skin crawl over some of the things he’s said. one time he mentioned wanting to cut a piece of your hair off so he could smell it and be reminded of you when he’s not with you. another time he said he wanted to slice off some of your skin and keep it forever so it’s like you’re always with him when he has to leave. and another time he whispered how badly he wanted to cut your stomach open, pull your guts out and crawl inside of you. it’s insane the terrible things he’s said and thought were surely “romantic” but only left you sleepless and fearful for your life.

liu plays this pretend dream on loop and it’s best if you go along with it. accept his “love”, accept his thoughtful “gifts”, accept and thank him for keeping you “protected” from the bad men that want to take you from him. you’ll start spiraling too along with him. as much as you fight it and try to stay determined on keeping your sanity, it’s difficult when a man that pretends to be sane and shows you twisted acts of affection starts to make your mind slip a little deeper into that darkness with each passing day chained up in a bedroom of a unfamiliar home. and how giddy he feels when you start to give in to his touches and words. but if you tried to get away? if you managed to escape his tight grip on your life? you’re a dead fucking girl because liu will cry and scream in agony for days before anger boils over in his veins and it wont be liu who finds you, oh no it will be sully who begins his mission of retrieving the lost little lamb who led herself astray in the dangerous dense woods.

[selfshipdorito]

Electric type and flying type with whoever's on your mind right now, for the Pokémon themed asks? :)

ask game

yo! thanks for the ask!! there's multiple people in my mind atm, so I've divided these like this: the electric one goes for a secret f/o (that's only secret cuz I didn't bother to explain them yet) and the flying one goes for ts.umugi. also I could have sworn I was already following you? turns out I forgot to lmao

⚡Electric Type⚡: Zap! The power went out. Out of the two of you, who’s more prepared for the unexpected? Can you tell us a story about when that came in handy?

ok, the answer to this depends on what exactly caused the power to go out, methinks. but I guess that, overall,

I think they don't deal that well with the unexpected.

I probably would have some sort of flashlight + food and water promptly stored already (basic emergency kit stuff, y'know). so those would be available in case the power outage is caused by something that bad.

otherwise, I guess I'd just comfort them that it's just a temporary blackout (if it's not on a home basis. then, it'd be repaired already) and that I'm there for them. wow I can really imagine them being scared because of something like this, now that I really think about it.

🪶Flying Type🪶: What’s something that your F/O does that makes your heart soar? Something you do that makes their stomach fluttery?

I smell a free gush pass here jdhajabd. anyway, I really love it when ts.umugi infodumps about anime and cosplay and her characters to me aaaaaaaaa. yes she does it for hours, yes I listen to all of it and I love it hajabksbe

and I guess the reverse also goes. she loves to listen to my infodumps (also about anime + my characters), replying with even bigger ones. and that's basically how we both communicate lmao. what can I say, infodumps are our love language gsjabaksv

I also feel like she'd tease me about me getting bashful about my interests cuz she finds it adorable

[messycunt]

The Morning After: Leona

I wanted to write Leona purring into this so bad but my logical mind wouldn’t let me since lions can’t purr but now I think abt it do kemonomimi boys really need to follow the rules of real world animal anatomy??? 

cw: fem!reader, no use of Y/N or gendered pronouns, readers birth assigned gender isn’t specified, nothing explicit but implied/referenced nsfw, fluffy wuffy gwumpy Leona, hinted Ruggie x Leona x reader but it’s ignorable methinks, ear scratches and soft kisses, not proof-read 

Leona always looked so peaceful when he was asleep, features relaxed instead of taunt in a scowl or pulled into a smug smirk like usual. 

 You sat at the edge of his bed, eyes fixated on the pile on the floor where he had thrown your clothes after tearing them off the night before yet not moving to pick them up. Your mind was elsewhere, thinking of how you would explain your being in savanaclaw first thing in the morning if anyone was to find you while making your way back to ramshackle. You brought your knee up to your chest humming thoughtfully. 

 Bumping into Jack was a possibility to consider, he was most likely getting ready for his morning jog now if he hadn’t already started. Lying to him about what you were there for would not be an option, even not being a beastman yourself you knew that he would be able to smell Leona all over you from a mile away. It was best to mentally prepare yourself should that encounter be made.

 Ruggie already knew about what you and Leona had going on and you knew about what he and Leona had going on so you didn’t need to worry about judgment from him. Your spur of the moment “nap times” and midnight visits occasionally involved him too when he wasn’t busy working at the lounge after class or running errands for Leona that you had safely assumed he gave him just to have you to himself for a while.Though you usually arrived and left the same night so bumping into the hyena with mussed hair and a slight but noticeable limp would definitely earn a lighthearted giggle and teasing nudge from him. 

“What’re you thinking so hard about” his words came out as an annoyed huff. You turned to look at him, his arm was lazily thrown over his face. “Getting back home in time to get ready for class, why?” His ears twitched at that “ oh? “Home” really? I'm sure the one other member of that raggedy dorm’ll be fine without you for one day” He didn’t answer your question. “You know how he gets. If I’m not there when he gets up he’s gonna be suspicious and he’s more irritating than usually when suspicious.” you didn’t mind Grim all that much, but maybe that reasoning would be sound enough to convince Leona to go back to sleep without you. He just grumbled in response. 

 You sighed and hopped off the bed to get to picking up your clothes. Placing them on the bed you took in the state of them. Your panties and stockings were ripped beyond use and your top was missing buttons but at least your jacket and skirt were intact. Thoughtfully choosing your words you spoke up with a patronizingly thick layer of sweetness. “I’ll stop by the garden before lunch and spend time with you then ok? I don’t want you being all grumpy wumpy.” 

“Just stay now. We’ll only miss the first two bells, I’ll let ya go then” he grumbled “Can’t. I have a quiz second period.” you answered quickly, back to your usual tone. “Then we’ll only miss the first bell” you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see “I promised Grim I would make him pancakes for breakfast today, and like I said I'm not in the mood to deal with his whining today” another grumble “who cares, the furball can just make ‘em himself now can you come back over here”

Leona moved his forearm from laying over his face to look at you. Eyes looking more disinterested than usual, he stretched with an obnoxious yawn before reaching out to pat the space on the bed in front of you. “You are so spoiled, you know that? Wanting me alllll to yourself even after last night” you teased crawling towards him only to stop just to lean over him. You leaned down to peck him on the corner of his mouth before moving to give him an ever lighter kiss on the lips. He didn’t react in any noticeable way. You closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line before giving in. “ Fine, I'll stay.” He let out a pleased hum at this and pulled his arms up to wrap around you comfortably. “Good.” he hummed, pulling you in for another kiss. You leaned into him and moved your hands up to gently scratch your nails behind his ears. Pulling away for air and rolling the soft texture of his ears between your fingers you gazed into each other's eyes for a while, content. The second you lay back against his chest ready to fall back into sleep you jump at the sound of a knock at the door 

“Leona-san~ I’m off for class. I’ll bring you both back some breakfast in a sec kay?” 

[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

[pixieungerstories]

Captive - 7

Elly was barely in the door when the pizza arrived.  “You have the wrong house,” she said politely but firmly.

The delivery guy looked at his clipboard.  “Nope.  Right address, says Ben ordered them.  They are already paid for so it isn’t a prank call.”

“Oh,” she said lamely. “Ben.  Yeah.  This is the right place.  I just wasn’t expecting him to be here this late.”  She fumbled in her purse for a tip and staggered inside under the weight of five extra large.  When she tried to hit the light switch with her elbow, nothing happened.  Then she noticed the ott-light had moved.  She groaned.  How many times did she need to tell Posy not to do that?

 The pizza was set on the counter as she stomped up the stairs to flip the breaker.  Once she hung up her coat, she wrenched off her heels and threw them into the hall closet with a fury that might have been surprising if she hadn’t spent the day feeling like an idiot child.

She found her sheep slippers, grabbed a beer out of her fridge and pounded down the stairs again.  

“Ben?” she called.

There was no answer.  

She walked around the shop, turning off the lights.  The bakery was still a mess, which was just not like him.

The door to the basement was open.

Oh god!

“BEN?!” she yelled frantically, as she ran to the steps.

“Careful, treasure, you don’t want to slip.”

“Oh!  Hi, Elly!  I ordered pizza.”

Elly stared between the two of them in the gloom of a battery powered trouble light.  Ben in the chair, George curled up on the floor in front of him.

And a mostly empty bottle of scotch on the table.

“Are you drunk?”

“Probably,” Ben said amicably. “Did you know you have a dragon in your cellar?”

Elly sat down heavily on the step.  It took her a few minutes to even try to get her brain working again.  In the meantime, Ben asked, “Any sign of the pizza?  George says he’s never had taco pizza or buffalo wings.”

“Yeah,” she said faintly.  “It’s upstairs.”

“I’ll get it!” Ben stood up, then he suddenly sat back down.  “I think I need a minute.”

“You need food,” George corrected.  “You wait here, I’ll help Elly get whatever it was that you ordered.”

“You can’t -” she stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “OK.  this is ridiculous.  I’ll go close the curtains, then we call all eat in the bakery.”

She grumbled to herself as she pushed the tables against the wall and closed the blinds.  She jumped when she turned to find Ben standing way too close to her and George peering at her from the stairs.  Ignoring George for a moment, she looked at Ben.  “Are you OK?”

He gave her a glassy look, “I’m -” he started to say, then stopped for a moment, “ I’m not entirely sure this is real.”

“That’s up to you,” George rumbled coming into the dining room.  “Tomorrow you  will wake up with a hangover and we can all just pretend this is a bad dream, if you want.  For now, however, I smell dinner and I know that buffaloes don’t have wings.”

“They are chicken,” Elly murmured as she went to get the food.

“I like it when people bring me cooked chicken.  They are too fiddly to eat on my own.  Eau de burning feathers is not an appetizing smell.”  George got the pizza boxes off the counter and carried them back to the bakery’s dining room.  He managed just fine, but it was awkward to look at.  His legs looked kind of bandy and short, his feet more hand like, and hs tail seemed to be in the way.  He ended up sitting at the table, but on the floor with his tail lashing behind him like a cat.

Ben brought over two tea cups and two water pitchers George graciously accepted one of the jugs and held it like an oversized mug, taking a long drink.  Elly was suddenly very aware that she never brought him liquids.  Ben was oblivious to that and was pouring her a cup of water.  

“I can make you a pot of decaf if you like.”

Elly waved him away, “I have most of a beer around here somewhere.”

“On the coffee table by the fireplace,” George said, carefully trying to figure out the pizza box.

Elly went to grab it and came back in time to see Geoge popping a wing in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.  “We don’t usually eat the bones,” she pointed out.

“Extra calcium,” George shrugged.  “These are good.  I was expecting them to be more spicy.”

Ben blinked, “I ordered mild, medium, hot and extreme and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to eat the bones because they could make sharp pieces and-”

“That’s dogs,” Elly interrupted.  “I have no idea if it applies to … George.”

George was already daintily taking another wing out of the pizza box with dividers keeping the wings segregated from each other.  He crunched that one up too.  “Which one is the spicy one?”  Ben pointed.  “You are staring.”

“Right!  Sorry!  It’s just …  wow.  Holy shit.  You are … amazing!”  He turned to Elly, “You have an actual dragon in your actual dungeon.  Do you have any idea how cool that is?”

Elly just snorted as she helped herself to a slice of taco pizza.  “This is just weird.  I can see using salsa instead of tomato sauce, and almost see queso instead of pizza cheese, but who puts sour cream on a slice?”

“Hey, at least I ordered it without the lettuce,” Ben argued.

“OK, these ones are getting better,” George said, pointing to the extreme wings.  “I’m not sharing these.”

Both humans stared at him.  It was Ben who finally said, “I can just imagine you on Hot Ones on YouTube.”

“What?”  Elly asked, but Ben was enthralled watching George suck the sauce off his fingers.  

George, however, was watching her.  “What did the lawyers say?”

Elly glared at her pizza then took a swig of beer.  “Any major changes to the business are subject to approval from the trustees.  They don’t object in principle as long as I can show I won’t have losses in excess of the monthly stipend.”

Now Ben was looking at her. “You are going to change the business?” he asked with feigned nonchalance that was undermined by his voice breaking part of the way through the sentence. 

Elly shook her head, “I wouldn’t interfere with the bakery, but I don’t know enough about yarn to keep this place afloat.”

“You were learning though,” he pointed out.

George snorted, “She is unhappy though.”  He narrowed his eyes at the man.  “Why is it your concern?”

“If I close up shop, Ben is out on the street,” Elly pointed out.  “This will affect him too.”

“Hmm,” George considered this.

“Try some pizza,” Elly suggested.

“Get Ben a beer,” George suggested.

“Nah, man. I gotta drive home.”  Then he frowned.  “I gotta clean the kitchen.”

“I will allow you to sleep on Elly’s couch on the second floor,” George replied magnanimously.  Elly rolled her eyes.  Ben grinned at his plate and took a slice of the all meat pie. 

“I like this place, they have good sauce and they have a partially good sourdough crust.”  He took a huge bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, “and I’m sure they make their own sauce.���

“You already mentioned the sauce,” Elly pointed out.

“It was a very good bottle of scotch,” George explained.  “The boy needed it.”

Elly sighed.  “Yeah, you can sleep in the guest room,” she agreed.  “I’ll change the sheets and help you clean the kitchen tomorrow morning.”

Ben was looking thoughtful.  “I know you don’t order this much food all the time.  Is that why all the cats are going missing?”

“Yes!” Elly snapped.

“No!” George just looked hurt.  “I don’t eat cats!”

Ben chortled, “Methinks the lady does protest too-” but before he could finish the quote, George leaned across the table and snapped his teeth uncomfortably close to Ben’s face.

“You do not come into my house and disrespect me like that!”

Both humans froze.

George blinked and leaned back away from them.  He turned and glared at the door to the stairs.  “I have changed my mind, treasure, I do not like this friend of yours.”

“I’ll -” Elly squeaked then stopped and tried again.  “I’ll just take him home then.  To his home, I mean.”

George looked pointedly at the window, “You can not go and be back before dark.  Take him upstairs, put him to bed and if he remembers this in the morning, I will expect an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said immediately.  He was extremely contrite.  “You are right.  That was rude.”

George narrowed his eyes at him.  “Go,” he managed to hiss the word despite the lack of sibilants.  As he watched them scurry up the stairs like frightened mice, he helped himself to another wing.  As he was crunching he could hear Elly speaking upstairs.

“That isn’t even how that quote goes.  It’s ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’ -”

“Really?  That’s the part of this you have a problem with?”

“No.  I’m just... “ she sighed.  “Look.  You need to think less drinking buddy and more tetchy grandfather.”

George managed to frown even harder.  Tetchy?  Really?  The grandfather, well, it was completely incorrect but he could see how she got there.  But techy?  Ugh.  He finished the wings and opened one of the pizza boxes at random.  Bread, tomato sauce, meat, mushrooms, bland white cheese, not ideal, but oddly satisfying.

The reality of the situation caught up to him.  He groaned.  He should have made the boy sleep on the chesterfield in the basement.  Instead, he was up there with Elly and George was down here, alone. That certainly wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Still, it would be dark soon.  Time to go for a night out.

[the-overgrowth]

Retrospective: “Faybane” #1

This is where it all started, on July 8th, 2016. Although probably a bit earlier than that, but this is the earliest thing I can find that’s actually written down, so that’s what counts. And back in the day I didn’t let ideas marinate the way I do now, I just started writing pretty much as soon as I got the idea.

Anyway, the document was created at this point in time according to Google Docs, and was last modified in October 3rd, 2016. It’s only 3 chapters long, plus one incomplete fourth chapter, and the whole thing is about 17k words.

Which is a lot for 3 chapters. I would say something about how I’m less wordy now, but the latest draft is like 107k words long, so, like, I will always struggle with shutting the fuck up, methinks.

Also, the reason this is called “Faybane” is because that was the working title I used, and the name of this document. I thought it’d be the proper title but like. It’s bad lmao.

Anywhomst, let’s get into it!

Some background info for those who are new or need a refresher: this WIP became a thing after I read and was disappointed by A Court of Thorns and Roses by SJM, as well as The Iron King by Julie Kagawa and some book by Holly Black, was it Tithe?

ACOTAR was the biggest culprit. I feel that this is important to keep in mind as we go through this mess.

We open on Sidra in the forest with a bunch of men she calls a hunting party. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be there, but since she’s the only decent hunter among them and it’s her sister’s wedding today, she has to make the kill to feed the people attending said wedding.

This is, as the kids say, big stupid, and seems like a very ill-prepared celebration? I guess it makes some sense for them to want fresh meat, but this fresh? What if they didn’t find anything? What if they didn’t manage to kill anything? Is the whole thing cancelled? Stupid.

We find out they’ve been hunting a boar and that this dude named Liam, our Gaston replacement, previously wounded the animal but didn’t kill it, causing it to flee and force the hunting party to follow. It’s up to Sidra to make the killing blow, which she does with an arrow straight into its head. This was back when Sidra was still YA Heroine Extraordinaire and the time period was Vaguely Medieval, I guess.

They begin taking their quarry back home and Sidra thinks about how she normally doesn’t hunt this close to the “Faewilds” because animals closer to the border are said to be bigger and more violent. There isn’t an actual border, people just had to rely on intuition and not wander too far into the forest.

She also mentions a girl named Wilda, who disappeared fairly recently and everyone suspects it was the fae. This isn’t relevant now, but Wilda will return in later drafts, I think.

Everybody, especially my family, knew that I was one of the best archers in town, whether I used a bow or a crossbow.

Shut up, Not!Feyre. Nobody likes you.

I should mention that at this point I didn’t bother googling how big wild boars get and just assumed they were the size of like, a thick medium dog. Which is, if you know how big boars are, very incorrect. Four men pulling the animal seems realistic enough, but then Liam just lifts it up on his own? Not buying it.

Sidra laments how much she hates Liam and we find out that he apparently tried to assault her and she stabbed him? And apparently she’s not happy about his marriage to Sinéad but can’t do anything about it because “Father’s word is law” and Sinéad herself laughed it off when Sidra tried to warn her?

Yeah, gonna call bullshit on that one. No idea why this was here or what purpose it serves, the reason Liam doesn’t exist in the latest draft is because I never figured out what his purpose was so I axed him entirely. 

Current!Sidra would just kill him the moment he showed an interest in Sinéad, and Current!Sinéad would 100% believe her sister about something like that.

Some bloke named Connor strikes up a conversation with Sidra, seemingly worried about being this far away from human civilization. Liam teases him about it and calls the fae “knife-ears”, because I still had brainrot back then and liked Dragon Age and had zero original ideas in my head.

The men make jokes about having sex with fae women and Sidra seems so disturbed by this that she nocks an arrow. This isn’t the first time she makes references to feeling unsafe around these men, I have no idea why I wrote it this way aside from being edgy, I guess.

My village was mostly populated by men, and even though I wasn’t one of the pretty girls there, I knew these men weren’t picky, even with all their talk about beautiful fae women. I’d heard that fae women would kill their men after sleeping with them. I had no way of know it was true, but a part of me hoped it was and that Liam would some day soon get “lucky” and encounter a female fae, so she could end his misery.

Edgy, dude.

They eventually arrive and Sidra goes inside her house, which is a simple cottage with three rooms. I think her family are all farmers? It’s kind of confusing. She goes into her and Sinéad’s bedroom, where Sinéad is preparing for her wedding. Also, she’s blonde.

“Sid! There you are!” she said cheerily. “Killed a boar, huh? Good on Liam for taking all the credit.”

If you know your man is trash, why are you marrying him?

Apparently Liam seduced Sinéad with sweets and baked goods. I mean ... fair enough. Considering how Sidra complains about being hungry and skinny and going without food if she doesn’t kill the boar because this year’s harvest was minimal, I’m assuming y’all are starving.

We find out Sinéad’s mother doesn’t let her do anything around the house or farm, to preserve her “soft and white” hands and pale complexion so she could be married off easily. This makes zero sense, you’d think these medieval men wouldn’t have the same beauty standards as Victorian England, plus having a mouth to feed that doesn’t even help feeding itself is just nuts. 

But remember, this isn’t Sidra, this is Not!Feyre. She needs to be sad and put-upon and a victim. She explains how she was never pretty to begin with and thus nobody considered her to be worthy of marrying off, which then meant she was put to work and became even less attractive because now she was so cool and badass that all the men were intimidated by her.

Yeah, in a village that already doesn’t have a lot of young women? I’m not buying this, lmao. But go off, Not!Feyre.

I’d been the one helping around, instead. Hunting, mostly. Sometimes I’d chop wood or work the farm. Marrying out of the house seemed impossible. Marrying up was practically a dream you forgot upon waking. Had I been pretty from the start there would’ve been a foundation to work from, but I was a lost cause even before my skin became tan and my hands grew veined and calloused. I had freckles which people mistook for mud and dull brown eyes, a long nose that had been broken one time too many and a mouth that made it look like I constantly felt a bad smell no matter what facial expression I made. I’d always been of rather short stature and had brown hair and thick eyebrows, which in combination with everything else made my parents call me their “little goblin”. The scar on my face didn’t help me either: men didn’t like it when their women were more battle-hardened than they were.

Oh god please, don’t go off! We don’t care! Stop going off!

Also what fucking parents call their poor kid a goblin? Yikes.

Sinéad convinces Sidra to get prettied up and Sidra is all “oh I bet all the men will just fall over themselves for my favor now huh” which is just the most annoying fucking thing, prompting Sinéad to respond:

“Well, winter is coming and game is scarce. If they want to survive, marrying the best hunter in the village might be a good bet.”

Yeah! This is correct! I refuse to believe people wouldn’t be into Sidra! Not only does everyone apparently know she’s the best hunter in town, but Sidra herself confirmed the men here outnumber the women and aren’t very picky.

This is fucking stupid. I’m glad I axed it. In my defense, I was very much trying to emulate the YA shit I’d read so far.

Sidra’s grandmother enters the stage. She’s very old in this draft, but otherwise unchanged.

She was a short and wrinkled old lady with extremely bad vision and an even worse grasp on reality. Or maybe an extremely acute grasp on reality, depending on whether you believed her stories or not.

Sidra changes out of the dress again to go out and help her father prepare the boar, all while sulking.

I didn’t envy Sinead, nor any other bride. Despite what most people thought of me, I wasn’t some poor ugly girl longing for the love of a man and the security of marriage. Did I enjoy the idea of having somebody care for me? Sure. But it wasn’t on my list of priorities. I was still trying to figure out what actually was on that list. Not that it mattered. The prospects for a poor village girl were very finite.

Womp womp.

We get some confusing and barely related stuff about Sidra possibly becoming a royal hunter for the king and also about where the village is located in relation to the Faewilds. She speculates that maybe the fae aren’t real, but the way she and everyone else talks about them makes it pretty obvious that they are? This was supposed to build mystery, I guess.

We skip forward to the wedding and Sidra is moping again.

“How are you feeling?” Father asked and squeezed my shoulder. 

I wasn’t sure why he was doing that. I assumed it had something to do with the wedding and the fact that despite there being fewer women than men here, I was still not asked to dance. Though this didn’t really bother me, so I just shrugged.

“It doesn’t bother me. Anyway I will continue to mope and feel bitter about this thing that doesn’t bother me.” Hunny ...

At least Current!Sidra has the self-awareness to admit she’s sad and lonely.

 [Father’s] marriage to Sinead’s mother was never out of love, more out of necessity. It was easier when you had a big family.

Except for when this “big family” is 3 people who work and 2 people who are just being fed, right? See, I knew back then that having a big family helps when you have a farm, but I also needed to make Sidra Special so Sinéad had to sit on her ass to highlight how pretty and feminine she was or whatnot.

Bleh.

They talk a bit about Sidra’s mother, who passed away five years ago, and Sidra reminisces about how she used to tell amazing stories. It’s all very ... whatever, and serves only to make this point for the hundredth time:

I wasn’t like Mother. I wasn’t full of life and spirit like her. I wasn’t loved and respected by the entire village like her. I was just her disappointing child whose existence they’d rather forget except when they wanted something killed.

Right after this there’s a really abrupt scene transition. Nothing about the wedding coming to an end, nothing about her going to bed, it’s just ... some while later?

Sidra’s father comes back home from ??? and tells Sidra he saw a stag somewhere, but it was hours ago so she better get a move on.

I’m not sure what either of them thinks this will accomplish? Like ... what is she gonna do with it when she kills it ... Carry it home? On her little boney ass? Hmm? I guess I didn’t think of that because I had meta knowledge that she wouldn’t get it home either way, so who cares about logic, right?

Sidra kills two rabbits while stalking the deer, and despite telling us earlier that she doesn’t venture far away from human civilization and the boar hunting being the farthest she’d been and that she wouldn’t go this far alone, she has no issue dwelling very deep into the forest this time.

Like. Henlo? Can we have one logic please and thanks you? Granted, she keeps stopping every now and then to Feel Things Out, but this really goes against how careful she was before and at no point do we get an explanation to her sudden boldness. Plot reasons, I guess.

She nearly stumbles into fae territories and finally decides to head back, except when she starts returning, she sees the stag she’s been tracking. It’s abnormally huge and has a “dark brown” coat that she finds odd, but of course she’s too stupid to connect the dots.

She sneaks up on it and honestly? This chapter ending still slaps.

A scream of pain left the creature and I saw it topple. But though my arrow hit a deer, a man fell to the ground.

DUN DUN DUN.

And yeah, the ACOTAR roots rear their ugly heads again. I liked the idea of the protagonist shooting a fae disguised as an animal, but I decided to cut out the middleman and just have her obliterate Val right in chapter one. Don’t worry, he doesn’t die.

[jilljoycearts]

For the OTP meme.~ ( 3, 11, 17, 21, 26 )

11 and 3 mentioned >here< Others are under the cut

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other? Sight of snow: long way down the Frostcliff mountains on feet, finally learning who each other is; Sound of cracking fire + cold: same but more calm, they sang to each other when staying for the night in the abandoned Windmill farm, so they would remember each other’s voices when experiencing similar feels. Sight of morning fogs, smell of rotting leaves, moist, and autumn in general: the “recovery” period, while living in the Sun Coast (they arrived there early Sept and stayed till late Nov) Smell of fires, feeling unsafe ‘cause of the Coarek’s invasion, sight of the blooming trees: the most happy memories, methinks; time when their relationship started. (As you may know, I have many AUs and it’s for one of them, for others the war comes later, for this one have this fic illustration (hopefully will be translated to english someday)

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse? Now that’s a good one They actually have been changing each other for 1,5-2 years while just living together and not being a couple, so I’ll be talking about that period mostly. For Siri it’s quite simple - she just looks up to him a lot when it comes to responsibility and commitment, and eventually she gets better with it. Also she learns how think not only about herself and to trust fully and same applies to Tharael actually. As for him - he is an extrovert by his nature so living with another extrovert makes him way more talkative and easygoing. He learns how to slow down that insane pace and how to chill. On the “for the worse” side for him would be not taking things seriously sometimes and making stupid and inappropriate jokes here and there. And as his sense of humour is very dark and salty as it, it can get really bad sometimes. Won’t be mentioning drinking as none of them goes over the edge with it, but “for the better” - Siri becomes less rowdy in general and thinks home and family > taverns and drunk adventures, though those still happen quite often.

26. What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex? Gonna be boring here but it’s trust, first and most important. For Siri sex didn’t mean much at all, at least for the most of her life. It was -sort-of- not necessary but good-feeling need that she fulfilled gladly with the people she didn’t have strong emotional bond with. Pretty much same for Tharael, nothing emotional and only physical. But when they both understand what it actually takes to trust your body to another person emotionally they start seeing it differently. And speaking about more general things - it’s understanding, respect to the personal limits of each other, and fun, of course.