#smell and sense story

[smellandsenseperfumebrand]

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[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You're mine now, old man.

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[moonshynecybin]

who do you think would deal better with being isekai'd into omegaverse, marc or vale? alternatively which is more compelling

most beautiful ask. in the world. so funny. ummmm i think. vale is maybe more compelling because his issues with it would be. perhaps unsolvable and endlessly complex. guy who is a lil weird about gender, not terribly into the concept of marriage, and is pretty fundamentally adverse to being. shall we say emotionally legible/vulnerable. exposed. and omegaverse as a genre is all about exposure. its all. giving into the base instincts of your body and those same instincts giving you away to the object of your affections. its going into heat and the person youre in love with is the only one available to help you through it. its scenting someone and that being a crystal ball of their emotions and bodily state ESPECIALLY ie how much they want you specifically. its needing someone so bad you are literally insensate. its getting bonded 5ever and ever irrevocably, OFTEN in the heat of an instinctual moment without the relationship negotiation that happens irl. a genre centered around a betrayal of the body/heart to the mind, in many ways

now imagine you didnt actually grow UP in an omegaverse so you have no toolbox to DEAL with all that. sensory input off the SHITS. and. like suddenly and without WARNING now vale can feel in his CHEST exactly how distressed marc marquez is about every one of their interactions. and how much he wants his ass. like truly every part of his hind brain is like jesus christtttttt i should be inside him right tf now im a terrible alpha. and then the higher part of his brain is like what the fuck. what the fuck. i am not responsible for marc, what the fuck. and oh hey theres a bump on my penis i need to ask people about this right the hell now. thats vale. so i see this as a somewhat fraught comedy of sex errors where his ADHD ass is treading horny water trying to learn alpha manners and also. much more complexly. not fall into all of the traditional alpha expectations/roles. that little trap of gender. because at heart vale is a little trickster who loves to buck expectations!!! and maybe his journey here is realizing that he can just be himself comma sex freak. and that leaning into those "alpha" traits doesnt mean he is conforming lmao he can still have his own unique version of his family. learning the norms of a society and what makes sense to him and what still doesnt. sorting through the weeds of it. and that being vulnerable rules sometimes. and that marc loves him. because that last one is kind of hard to ignore now... again because of that emotional and physical vulnerability that comes with the genre... honestly him knowing all of that about marc without having to actually TALK about it may solve some of their problems tbh. like why work through all that verbally when you can sniff them and then fuck them. kind of the omegaverse fantasy in quite a few ways

marc. jeez louise. i think would HATE it more. at first. control freak 9000. maybe has to miss races for heats. suppressants arent legal. experiencing weird omega sexism if we want to go that route OR. my favorite. has been lying to the press about his status since he presented. tiniest 15 yr old youve ever seen: im an alpha ! :3 uh sure bud. sure. i bet. SO actually maybe he falls into a world where hes just been white-knuckling it for the last billion years during race weekends and most of the paddock kind of KNOW (scent blockers only go so far...) but are lowkey afraid to call him on it dlkjdfljldsfd... similar to vale in this scenario, he sort of has to learn how to omega— and when his heat hits during summer break and his ass start leaking in the middle of the spanish equivalent of walmart, he finds a psycho little ziploc bag of sweaty vale shirts under his bed and he genuinely is like girl what the hellllllllllll.... wiggin out. and his next heat he turns up to race with truly NO practice managing it all, so its way more obvious than normal and the farce is growing thinner and vale literally pulls him aside to be like hey are you GOOD ? but in that valentino not that i care about your ass kind of unspeakably divorced way and marc is like woag. bc a pheromone truck just ran him over. eyes glassy face flushed sweaty as hell mouth a little open.... and he opens his mouth to make an excuse and nothing comes... and then obviously they fuck like its the end of the WORLD

and like i DO think marc pulls out of it more cleanly than vale overall, bc something in HIS lizard brain would be deeply soothed by like. excelling at being an omega. getting an A + in being a bottom. doing that for vale, specifically in the context of pushing his body to the absolute LIMIT to do it.... hes locked in. its go time. and then theres the insane possibility of vale putting his mouth on his neck and them getting basically soulbonded forever where they have to have crazy sex every few months ? hes like ummmm okay. i could get used to this for a while lmao

[gothsuguru]

first draft of “premonition of love” has officially begun <3

[thepatronsaintoffilth]

my babies ... they're fighting again ... its hurts me so .... I mean I know the makeup sex is going to be spectacular, but ... I hate it when mommy and daddy fight 😢<-says the dumbass crybaby making them fight

[wreckedhoney]

a while ago on the discord i brought up the "which desk at the station is forrest's desk" question when the answer should probably have been obvious. he's been at the job for approx. one week, so it's the desk with all the unpacked boxes. it just didnt occur to me because thats Frankly A Lot Of Boxes and my first thought was this is where all the storage and junk are piled on, but no. it's all stuff forrest brought (/hc). he's a heavy packer. he spite packed all the stuff he didn't want his old job to keep even if he doesnt need or even like them all that much but now that he's blacklisted then no one in the entirety of chicago can have them

[sunlitsorrows]

Merfolk

Merfolk are not human. It is absolutely vital to surviving an encounter with one that you understand this.

Whether or not they are people is as confounding a question to humans as whether or not humans are people is to mer.

They appear to have feelings, they seem to be capable of rational thought and the ability to reason, but their philosophical framework is so different that even with the language barrier removed, we still wouldn’t be able to understand each other—and that is without trying to account for different perspectives shaped by individual experience.

Merfolk culture is no more homogeneous than human. One mer is as likely to think drowning a sailor is the morally correct action as another is to help them back to shore—another may very well drown a human trying to save them, meaning no ill but lacking an understanding the differences in their respiratory systems.

Whether or not mer were once human (or humans once mer) is equally debatable; whether or not one can become another, or if they can produce offspring, likewise depends largely on what stories you believe.

The busty, long haired beauties sailors tell stories of bear little resemblance to the biological reality; yes, mermaids are very pretty by human standards, but as they aren’t mammals the only reliable visual indicator of whether one is male or female is the size and shape of their adipose fins, and as their hair isn’t hair at all, but a sensory organ that serves more as a sense of smell (they breathe water through their mouths, to their gills, and air through their noses, to their labyrinth) than anything else, it doesn’t grow much longer than their shoulders.

And they look far less human up close than they do from a distance; they have teeth similar to that of a shark, webbed fingers, their skin, where it isn’t scaled, is still iridescent, and their “hair”while it feels to the touch more like human hair than their skin feels like human skin, is animate, moving in response to what they smell (though their sense of smell is much diminished out of water—and if they are out of water too long it is this tissue that begins to die first, long before their skin begins to crack or their tails to flake).

(Some do however like to weave things such as seaweed and jewelry into their hair, which could account for some illusion of their hair being longer than it really is.)

Their pupils can dialate much larger than a human’s but cannot constrict as well, so one is more likely to see a surfacing shoal at dawn or dusk, when the light isn’t blinding, and while their vocal cords are much longer, allowing them to produce sounds both higher and lower than audible to a human, their tongues are too short to make the sounds produced by touching the tongue to the lips, teeth, or front of the hard palate (ss and zz, th, d and t, j, n); their language is mostly tonal, akin to whalesong.

(All this to say Biter is probably going to need some ye old steampunk sunglasses once he gets legs, and is going to be extremely fussy about keeping his hair wet.)

(And also merfolk purr for their young because I will shoehorn in purring to every non-human species I ever write ever always fiveever.)

[rozugold]

Question: if I were to listen to an entire album from The Crane Wives for the very first time, which album would you recommend? :0

(I haven’t listened to many of their songs but really recently I’ve been wanting to! Figured I’d ask an expert lol)

OOO! OOO! OOO!!! Ok it’s between The Fool In Her Wedding Gown and Coyote Stories…

The Fool In Her Wedding Gown is more folky and acoustic, it’s got a lot of anger and energy in it in the best way possible. But it’s also got How To Rest which is such a gentle heart achey song that everyone should listen to it RIGHT this second!!

Coyote Stories is when the electric guitar comes in. It’s songs are sooo lyrically beautiful, Unraveling, The Moon Will Sing, NEVER LOVE AN ANCHORR!!! Lots of feels in this one

So yeah i recommend one of those two (both ideally since they sound so different from each other but do whatever you want. Forever)

[bitchfitch]

somebody shoot me with a gun until I am dead before I write the first chapter of that pirate thing for like. Genuinely the eighth or ninth time.

[lilacerull0]

my mom: i feel like you don't even like pasquale, it's just that the spite and the complaining registers at the same frequency as your own

me: *speechless*

[smellandsenseperfumebrand]

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For the woman who wants to make a lasting impression,Smell & Sense Allure is not just a fragrance it’s a companion. Explore its magic here.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Hope you don't mind me asking but would you ever write a story with a human/nonhuman pairing?

Most of your works, from what I've read so far, are either nonhuman/nonhuman or human/human. Never human/nonhuman. Is there a particular reason for this?

And would you ever write a story that has a main human/nonhuman relationship?

I've written it! You might not know about my other account (it's where I'm posting Palmarosa and A Stain that Won't Dissolve currently) but you can find this more than once over at my fanfiction account: thespectaclesofthor

Anon, you might want to read Stuck on the Puzzle which is a human and a humanoid - The Iron Bull, who is qunari, and not human. Human/nonhuman pairing right there! :D

You might also want to read Eversion which is a human and an android! So another human/nonhuman pairing.

I would say All the Loose Threads (the original Flitmouse/Anton fic) also covers this (human + unconditional immortal being, but it was abandoned after a chapter. You can still read about their side relationship in The Golden Age that Never Was though! Series link is here.

It's definitely something I've tackled before, and might again in the future if the base concept interests me enough! So yeah, I've written it, and there's no particular reason I don't write it, because I do. Some of my longest fanfics are human/nonhuman pairings.

[newfeeling77]

i wish i wasn’t capable of physically feeling the presence of someone in a building even when i can’t see them. i know i sound insane but theres like 4-5 people i have a psychic connection with whether i like it or not. im sitting in a cafeteria with like 100 ppl n im by a hallway that leads to a door on the side of the building n someone will go in or out every 5 minutes or so n you know bc its a loud squeaky door. n like the 7th time i heard it open the guy i had planted myself here specifically to say hi to i had the impression it was him before he even like emerged from the enclosed area. and it was of course. its almost annoying i dont want to be so aware

[smellslikebot]

appointment is tomorrow morning and i have no idea if she'll be Chill or Scary about my concerns 😰 i fear if i make one wrong move she'll be like "did you just try to self-diagnose? Cringe"

[absentmoon]

what if kaoru was also a vampire could you imagine him and rei on either side of you feeding from you at the same time

YOU WANT ME DEAD