#winter stole summer’s thrill ›› ic

[passivenovember]

West.

(For my darling @cuepickle , ILYSM!)

--

Washed in fire-cracker light from a pit in Steve Harrington’s backyard, Billy swallows an entire topaz ocean from a can and stops wishing for California.

Because he’s piss-drunk, crinkling aluminum in his fist to keep from reaching out, into the flame, to prove that it’s all a dream. A feeling that will pass. And Steve’s smoking through Billy’s pack of Marlboro reds, one right after the other, the little train that could.

It doesn’t make Billy angry. It used to. Because he wanted to be the lighter in Steve’s hand and the smoke in Steve’s lungs and the blood rushing, confident, through his veins, and he never knew it.

That’s the thing about Billy. If it’s not coming from a textbook, he’s slow on the uptake and eager to swing out of misplaced anger. But once he figured out what this was, catching butterflies in his hands, he settled for friendship and he’s happy about it. Thrilled and content to share his cigarettes until the stars stop spinning like they’re caught in a washing machine, and he hopes against hope, that. Steve’ll stay put.

That they’ll sit close enough to touch all night long.

That even though people keep trying to drag Harrington back into the house, where they’ve got a game of beer-pong going and the stereo thumping so loud Billy thinks the Earth might crack open–he hopes that Steve will stop searching for tomorrow’s bright spring rays, too.

So, Billy stops dreaming of California.

“This is nice,” Steve says. The wind tousles his hair, kicking up notes of leather, coffee grounds, and vanilla ice cream. Billy wants to bottle it and make a fortune.

“Yeah,” He determines, instead. There’ll be time for masterplans and grand crimes later when Harrington’s the first to fall asleep.

Steve leans to scratch his leg, staring out at his empty swimming pool. “You’re having a nice time?” He asks, and Billy thinks all the color is gone from his face. But maybe it’s just the shadow of the new year closing in. Maybe it’s the moon.

Billy wants to make him smile. “Yeah.”

“That all you can say, Hargrove?” Steve glances over, cheeks red from the cold.

And he's gorgeous.

Billy's never seen anything like him in all the world, so he keeps a textbook full of moments exactly like this one. He never loses track of them, leafing through their worn and well-loved pages whenever he's lost in seas of brown.

A smile plays at the corners of Steve's lips, "Me too," he says, soft and secret and so like an eclipsing planet even though beyond a scraggly line of ferns and balding oak trees, tripping all the way along a path of bronze sandstone, all of Hawkins is getting trashed on the sloppy seconds from the Harrington’s Christmas party.

Steve doesn’t mind it. He’s got the world in his hand, a wristwatch that’s stopped working, and all of Billy’s attention focused as a searchlight, on his pretty, pretty face.

The whole cheerleading team is probably wondering where they are.

Billy can’t get his legs to work, they’ve turned to vanilla pudding. “What’d you get for Christmas, richie-rich?”

Steve shrugs and turns back to the pool. “Pair of Nike’s, that new Queen record, a pack of cool-ranch sunflower seeds, some kettle corn-–”

“Wow, Momsie and Papa couldn’t roll the savings account for you? Aren’t you an only child?”

“I got a Playboy desk calendar, too,” Steve passes his-their-Billy’s cigarette without a second thought. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”

Suddenly the backdoor opens, and a pinpoint of yellow flashes in a sea of dark, dark winter.

Billy uses his free hand to shield his eyes.

Steve clicks his teeth, annoyed when he shouts, “I’m busy,” to the short, pissed-off figure that calls his name into the night.

“It’s fine,” Billy tells him, swinging his legs over the side of the pool chair so he can get his feet under him, “They’re probably lost in there without you.”

“No,” Steve snaps. The thick gold band he stole from Billy’s gym bag after training camp this summer taps a frantic tune on the metal chair beneath him.

And Billy gets the sense that this isn’t a casual conversation.

That Steve’s got speeches and roadmaps snaking like candy-land fields in his mind, a clear goal trapping them in this moment on the last Friday of winter break, two hours past midnight on the first day of a brand new year.

Steve looks at him. Studies him.

Says, after a long, weightless moment, “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” and Billy’s mind goes a hundred and one places. None of them good, all of them baring teeth and claws and spikey bones from years of rotting decay.

"Feeling brave, Harrington,"

Steve grins in spite of himself, "Maybe,"

And somewhere behind them, the pinpoint of light goes out.

Steve takes a deep, uneasy breath. “I’ve been thinking about graduation.” He starts, and the world tilts sideways.

Frosted blades of grass crunch underfoot of someone drawing closer and closer to whatever grenade Steve’s about to throw on their perfect, carefree night. A stranger, or friend, or–-

Neil, for all Billy knows, is set to get a front-row seat to Steve’s admission.

I know what you are, Billy imagines him saying, kind eyes finally slicing Billy open after so many months of liquid care, I know how you feel about me and what happens in your gym shorts when you see my ass in the showers. I’ve seen how you fuck yourself open on your fingers imagining that I’m pressing myself inside you because we’re in love with each other–-

Steve gulps down the rest of his beer and turns, so their knees knock.

It hurts, and it doesn’t. He swallows panic, anyway.

Billy gets like that at the first sign of trouble. Sensitive as an overripe peach. All those times they put their hands on each other and Billy doubts Harrington knows that he bruises easily. That he carried Steve’s fingerprints on his skin for weeks after--

“It’s just,” Steve says, eyes cast to the ground. To the crust of the Earth, knocking politely on the lid of Billy’s sneakers, “When I think about my future, it gets fuzzy.”

“Yeah, that’s normal, I think.” Billy turns, eyes straining through the darkness to find the owner of those clandestine footsteps. The yard is empty. He passes the unlit cigarette back to Steve and wonders, through a cloud of haze and terrifying anxiety, if he imagined the whole thing.

Maybe they’re alone, after all. Maybe Steve will go easy on him. Maybe—

Steve lets the cigarette fall to the ground.

“Wasteful,” Billy says, trying to cast light on the mood.

“I don’t care, I’ll buy more."

On the tip of Billy’s tongue, he feels red-hot jealousy inflate like blown glass. Typical, he wants to say, you rich bitches don’t give two shits about the resources you deplete or the mouths you take them from, and still–-

Call it a habit.

Billy’s trying to file his own edges down. Doesn’t want to be that guy to Steve anymore, the one who says those things and means it, because–-

Billy bites down until he tastes blood to stop from saying something stupid. But the thought comes an hour and four beers too late.

Steve won’t look at him and Billy’s trying to find the hole in their lifeboat before their friendship sinks. There’ve been a lot of parties this break. A lot of weed smoke, a lot of tequila shots, and stolen six packs exchanged for frozen pizza, and Billy thinks for an endless moment that maybe he said something, once.

Got shitfaced and lost in the pink feeling when Steve carried him home and put Billy to bed and crawled under the sheets with him, so close but not touching, until they both fell to dreams.

Maybe Billy got too comfortable in their safe, easy friendship, and ruined everything.

Maybe Steve knows.

“My future,” Steve tries again, eyebrows pinched in a way that’ll give him wrinkles before he turns thirty-five, “It only makes sense if I imagine–-”

“Jesus Christ, It's fucking freezing out here."

Billy cranes his neck and Robin appears, windswept and higher than a kite, balancing along the abandoned edge of the pool. Her cheeks are red from the cold despite the insulated overalls that still hold last month's mustard stains, and the leather jacket she stole from Billy’s room and never gave back is slung around her shoulders.

They stare at her for a long, breathless moment.

“Y’all scared me,” She says, rubbing her hands together, "Am I interrupting something?"

Billy turns back around, "Not really," He says, at the same time, Harrington snaps, "Kinda," All teeth and none of that sappy best-friends-who-can-read-each other's-minds bullshit that he keeps on tap.

“You knew we were out here,” Steve clarifies. He flicks a cluster of ash from his sun lounger. “You were standing at the door, calling my name.”

“I was calling both your names.”

“Bullshit,” Billy tells her, chuckling.

“Not shit,” Robin says, plopping down on the pool lounger next to him, “I called both your names and when I heard Steve’s voice I thought maybe you went into the woods together.”

“How much dope have you had tonight?” When Robin waggles her eyebrows, Steve frowns, “We wouldn't go into the woods. Don’t go into the woods, Bucks.”

“Too late, I already did,” Robin snatches their cigarette off the ground and takes the lighter that’s offered, pinching the filter between her front teeth, “It’s fucking freezing out here–-”

Billy grins. "You already said that."

“We were talking,” Steve bristles. His eyes are narrowed, pools of honey covered in bees and wasps and he doesn’t say what Billy so clearly sees between the lines. We were talking–-

And you interrupted us.

Robin frowns. “What could you possibly be doing out here that couldn’t happen inside?”

“You mean the very same inside that’s caught under the mind-numbing cadence of Wham! and the watchful eye of half the school?” Billy shrugs, “Wasn’t my bag.” Billy takes robins-his-Steve’s cigarette and tells the truth. “Harrington’s waxing poetic about the future.”

“My future,” Steve says.

“His future,” Billy clarifies.

“Jesus Christ. It’s the last Friday of winter break, can we please not do the college thing?”

“Quick, check her head for bumps,” Billy deadpans, stealing his cigarette back. It’s comical, coming from Mrs. SAT herself.

Robin knocks her shoulder into Billy. Hard. “I’m serious. You guys put too much pressure on yourselves.”

“I got into UC Berkeley and it was my first choice,” Billy teases, “Don’t worry about little Hargrove, he’ll be shouldering summer road trips and bags of dope in four years' time.”

“Four and a half years, let’s not jump the gun,” Steve says, He fiddles with the sanded edge of his beer can, a thousand and one thoughts racing by like taxi cabs behind the curtain of hair on his forehead. “I can do that, now,” He says like it means something.

“Steve,” Robin begins softly, “What’s wrong?”

“God, nothing,”

And Billy’s smart enough to know when a bomb’s set to explode. Harrington’s got fire in him, it burns on a simmer like the focused light from an oil lamp, high in a tower overlooking the sea. He’s good at steering conversations and batting his spindly shutters to get what he wants.

It’s what makes him the King.

And Billy has to physically swallow his own tongue to stop from saying that Robin’s efforts are pointless.

Steve’ll talk when he’s ready if he ever gets there at all, and to be honest, Billy hopes the train doesn’t arrive tonight.

Billy’s feeling selfish.

Wants so desperately to skip the big, emotional conversations and for the light to return to the sky. For the last Friday before the spring semester to lose twenty pounds so it can fit, cookie-cutter and all, into the mold of Billy’s senior year. He doesn’t want to think about the future, there’s plenty of time for that.

Mostly, he wants to go inside and get drunk.

“C’mon,” Robin tries, kicking the toe of her boot and Steve’s sneaker together until he grinds his molars, “You can talk to us,”

Billy groans.

“Just because Hargrove and I are going to the same school-–”

“Buckley, leave the kid alone.”

Steve is silent for so long that Billy grows a headful of gray.

"I don't care about Berkely, I just care about California," He says. He looks at Billy, peers right through him and Steve’s eyes are glittering like a million wayward stars. Like he might cry. “I wanted to-–”

Billy springs to his feet.

“Jesus, can we just go inside?” Billy’s fingers itch for the comforting cylinder of aluminum. He wants to dance, and he’d take Cher or Madonna. George Michael–-

He pats the seat of his pants, instead, so it looks like he’s searching for something to smoke.

He doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, across Steve’s face.

“Alright,” Harrington crumples his beer can and tosses it, sharply, into the dark hollow of his swimming pool.

“C’mon, Steve, Bills is just being an asshole,” Robin’s nose wrinkles. She’s trying really hard to look serious and interested and sober. “What were you going to say?”

“It wasn’t important.”

“It was important enough for you to hold Billy hostage for the last hour and a half,” She takes the last puff from her cigarette, losing steam in this conversation, “You know Heather Duke was playing twenty questions, trying to figure out where Billy ran off to?”

“I don’t care about Heather Duke,” Steve says bluntly, “What makes you think I would ever give a shit about–-”

Robin is unphased, “Seems kinda like you give a shit about Heather Duke.”

And all at once, Steve snaps.

It’s like watching a tree fall in the woods. Silent, and then all hell breaks loose and the world ends.

“You didn’t have to come out here,” Steve says, about as even and gentle as the aftershocks of a hurricane, “You could’ve stayed inside with everyone else.”

“God, you’re such an asshole when you drink brown beer, it makes you delusional-–”

Billy sits back down.

“--Shoot me for wanting to make sure my best friends are okay,” Robin tells him, dry as an old desert bone.

“We were fine,” Steve snaps.

“You drank a bunch of beer and then fucking vanished.”

“If you think I’d ever let anything happen to him–-”

“--Harrington-–”

“--You’re out of your mind, Buckley.”

“Fuck you,” Robin throws her cigarette at Steve’s face. “Come find me when you’re done acting like you’re the only one who’s got feelings,” She says, and then she’s off. Stomping across the frosted lawn until the french doors slam shut behind her, harsh and final.

Steve kicks his sun lounger.

“Hey, easy, pretty boy.”

“We were having a private conversation,” Steve snaps. When he looks at Billy his eyes are glossed over, wet, huge, and afraid. “We were talking, and then–-”

“What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Steve frowns, spine going taught like the string of a bow, poised to kill.

Billy shrugs, confused to the very core of him. “In all the months I’ve known you and crashed on your couch and gotten piss-drunk in your shitty fucking car I’ve never seen you act like this. Robs mentions Heather Duke and-–”

“What, you care about Heather Duke, all of a sudden?” Steve scoffs like Billy’s the most irrational, irritating, piece-of-shit guy on the planet. “You know her dad bought her a nose job, like, two weeks before you moved here?”

“Oh my god, who gives a shit? I’m here with you. Right? I’m right here,” Billy shouts, uncaring for how his voice echoes against the bark of a million barren, dying trees, “Can we try and have a good night? It’s the–-”

“If you say it’s the last Friday of break one more fucking time–-”

Billy wonders what crashed Steve’s yacht into the rocks. What’s got his panties bunched up, and why Steve feels like he’s got any authority to stop Billy from getting a few good orgasms in before sunrise.

He doesn’t get the chance to ask.

Steve rubs the wet from his cheeks. “Forget it,” He says, “Let’s just. Let’s go back to the party, alright?”

“Steve-–”

But he’s gone.

Before Billy even has a chance to say that everything will be alright, Steve’s gone.

It’s another hour before Billy has the courage to chase after him.

—

In a room full of piss-drunk kids and aluminum barrels and honey-comb ashtrays that look like they’ve spit up all over Mrs. Harrington’s nice coffee table, Billy drinks the edge away.

Steve said he was going back to the party but he’s nowhere in sight. Robin’s missing, too, and Billy has no doubt they’ve hugged and made up. They’ve got a Care Bear cut to them, you know, can never go to bed angry.

Billy imagines that they’re in the mast bathroom right now. Swimming in Ma Harrington’s jet tub, or painting their toenails in the guest bedroom that overlooks the west-facing tree line. He wonders if they’re drunk enough to talk, hushed and trepid, about their fears.

Billy wonders if he’ll ever fully fit in with them. If he could ever belong anywhere else.

Eventually, the house starts to empty. Tommy H. says some dumb shit about being hung out to dry, all, if Harrington wanted to fuck the weird girl in a quiet house all he had to do was say something, but everyone else is too drunk to fake a laugh.

Billy tells him he should move the party to his. “Your parents are in Aspen, right?” Billy wonders, swallowing the last sip of his last beer for the ‘85 season.

“Yeah,” Tommy H. slurs, so he uses Billy’s head as a push lever to stand on the coffee table and knocks Mr. Harrington’s ashtray onto the carpet. Says, “Hey guys, afterparty at my house,”

No one in their right mind wants to go home plastered.

So the house clears.

Billy sinks into silence about as easily as a rock in the ocean. It swallows him, the distant drone of the heater is his only companion as he vacuums drifts of cigarette and marijuana ash from the carpet.

He runs the loud machine about the whole room to tidy up, imagining that with this invention Billy is cleaning up the last, terrible dregs of a very long year.

It’s freeing.

Billy’s weightless, so on cloud nine that when someone thumps on the floor upstairs he wonders who could be so high above him. Higher than his crown of mussy curls, taller than God himself.

Billy takes the stairs leisurely, focusing every free inch of brainpower on putting one foot in front of the other.

And the thing about Steve’s house is that there are a million long, winding corridors that Billy can’t navigate even when he’s operating at peak performance, you know. Drinking lots of water and eating root vegetables and laying off the cigarettes and following the thread of gold that trails after Steve like toilet paper stuck to his shoe.

Billy’s shitfaced and out of breath by the time he’s run out of guest rooms to investigate.

There’s no one here, Billy thinks.

No one but me, and the pipes–-

“Billy?”

Steve’s in his pajamas. He looks a little bit like Winnie the Pooh, in red flannel, rubbing at his eyes like maybe something woke him from a deep, dreamless sleep but Steve isn’t angry about it. Because he sat up all night waiting.

“Thought you left,” Steve mumbles, eyes squinted as if every bulb in the house is burning at once.

“Why would I leave?”

“I thought maybe I pissed you off and you went home with someone else,” Steve pads forward, voice soft and warm with curling tendrils of exhaustion.

Billy wants to touch him. Billy aches to run his fingers through Steve’s hair and pull and tug until the guilt is smoothed from his face.

Most of all, Billy wants to kiss him.

And he’s so used to that feeling sitting like a hot coal in the very center of him, heating words and emotions to boiling until they bubble up and spill over in ways Billy could never stifle, even with a lid to the flame.

Billy’s so used to it that he shrugs, instead. “I’m wasted,” He admits, because it takes the sting away from the thought that Harrington’s suspicious of him. That once the alcohol burned everything away, Billy whored himself out. Chose someone else. Abandoned ship even though–-

“I know,” Steve smiles softly, “Me too.”

“Where’s Robin?”

“Asleep,” Steve confesses. They stare at each other for a moment and Steve’s expression melts. His smile is washed away, happiness swallowed by grief. “Listen, Billy–-”

Billy pads toward the bedroom. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“But I–-”

Billy takes his shirt off, slipping out of his boots and trousers on autopilot. There have been so many nights exactly like this one, so many beer-filled memories of slipping under the covers and feeling Steve, warm and soft, curl up behind him.

But it’s almost like a switch has flipped and after their friendly spat by the pool, they’ve been sucked into an alternate dimension where the awkwardness that stuck like wet paint to their friendship and never really dried.

Steve stands next to the bed, now, teeth rattling from the cold.

Everything’s quiet.

“I was an asshole,” Steve tells him.

Billy’s exhausted. “Stevie, get in bed.”

“Things are changing so fast and I just-–”

Billy’s already half asleep. “I don’t give a shit about that, Steve, it’s alright,” Billy settles in with Robin. She snuffles, rolling over until she’s settled enough to begin drooling slick over Billy’s left nipple.

He lets his eyes slip closed, breath calm even as the mattress feels like it’s lost at sea.

Billy cracks open one eye, glaring up at Steve where he’s watching Robin and Billy with a small, sweet curl to his lips. “Come cuddle, you shithead,” Billy mutters, knowing he’ll be embarrassed about that tomorrow.

Steve looks afraid. Young and frightened and so uncertain.

It’s a strange, unusual look to see on Steve’s face.

Billy’s heart pinches, shuddering painfully in his chest. “C’mon, Harrington, I’m cold,” Billy tries again. He knows he won’t be able to fall asleep without Steve. It’s a dorky, pathetic development as ancient as the stars.

Even when he’s home, lounging in his own bed on Cherry lane; even when the days are decent with no fights and swinging fists because Billy did his chores and minded his tongue, when there’s nothing to cry about and nothing be up early for, Billy doesn’t dream as easy as he does here.

With Steve.

So Billy shuffles toward the edge of the bed, smirking when Robin flips over onto her stomach. “If you get in here with me you can tell me all about it, alright?”

“And you’ll listen?”

“And I’ll listen,” Billy swears.

Steve bites his lip. He shuffles for another few seconds and then gives in, laying on the other side of Billy.

And Billy is too drunk to notice the way their bodies naturally curl around each other. Like clinging vines and stone houses, soft greenery seeking warmth. Billy puts his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, pushing into the calloused fingertips that trace the curve of his spine.

He’s warm.

He’s already asleep, dreams lapping like warm ocean water against his toes.

“I was thinking,” Steve says, “About the future?”

Billy makes a noise, floating on Steve’s mattress.

“I just. I want you–” Someone’s snoring. “Goddammit, Robin.”

Billy curls away from the sound, slinging one leg over the waist of that soft, murmuring voice to stop it from disappearing. It blends in with the texture of the night. It slips away but that doesn’t matter.

“Billy?”

Billy dreams of the boy it’s attached to, and he falls asleep, succumbing to the mystery of the future.

–-

“This is your fault,” Robin says. She dips a green bean in tarter sauce and licks all of it off before chewing, “Well. Mostly it’s your fault.”

It’s fish-fry day. Reminds Billy, like a spot of paint on a big bright canvas, just the tiniest bit of home. He’s in a good mood, taking his time with his mashed potatoes, hasn’t even cracked open his Pepsi, and it’s like the afternoon catches on a low-hanging branch and pops open. Ripped at the seams.

Billy’s slow on the draw, mouth smeared with lazy ease. “What now?”

“Steve,” She says. Like duh. Like, “It’s your fault.”

Billy stabs his last fish stick. Imagines blood and guts, little water-logged voices screaming in pain, “You’re full of shit.”

“I’m full of astute observations,” Robin tells him, looking around and leaning forward like anyone in first lunch gives a damn about Steve or either of them, for that matter.

Billy’s cool died, right along with his heart, the first time Steve smiled at him.

“You really need to pay more attention to the people around you.” Robin continues loudly, “Just because we don’t have 20-pack abs-–”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Buckley?”

“You were there. You saw how Steve blew a fuse.”

“Wasn’t like he was running in tip-top shape anyhow,” Billy spots Heather Duke across the room, batting her lashes so hard it looks like she’s got something in her eye. "Are we really talking about this?"

She waves.

Billy doesn’t wave back.

“Stop making fuck-me eyes at your girlfriend,”

“Buckley,” Billy warns, eyes snapping, poised to kill, on Robin’s face, “You’re on thin ice.”

“I’m always on thin ice,”

“More than usual,” Billy clarifies. He leans forward, close enough that he hopes his tarter-sauce breath kills Robin on the spot. “I’m not taking the blame for the Princess’ shitty New Years' mood.”

Robin doesn’t plug her nose. “Well, you should.”

“Why, because I’m a reformed asshole and that makes me a scapegoat for everyone else’s neurosis?”

“No,” Robin says dryly, “You’re probably the only person on the entire planet who can let him know everything’s going to be okay.”

Billy flops back in his seat, scrubbing at his face and tugging at his hair like maybe if he buffs hard enough, he can be a new person. Shiny and clean. The type that does shit like this, who can open like a spring flower and not care about the bees.

Eventually, Billy inflates again. “Steve hasn’t said anything to me about anything.”

“He’s probably embarrassed.”

“--The guy who brags about being best friends with a Middle Schooler–-”

“Okay, then he’s worried you’ll reject him,” Robin says.

And.

The first boy who ever had a crush on Billy pulled his chair out from under him. Billy cracked his head on the desk and had to get four stitches. Billy’s mom drove him to Urgent Care and said boys only do that when they’re in love with you.

Because they can’t find the words, she’d told him.

In retrospect, it makes sense to Billy that his mother would say that. All she ever knew was love the color of fresh bruises.

But the thing about Steve is, he’s full of words.

He drips honeyed dad jokes and terrible made-up song lyrics about the cowlick that floats in Billy’s hair when he’s had too much to drink. Steve spins stories about the future and says things like when we’re at college together and when we’re roommates and I get to trap you forever by my side–-

He’s stuffed to bursting with sunlight and easy promises.

And the thing about Billy is, his whole life has been about death. Rebirth, too. Over and over and over again. He’s had to rework what love looks like from all sides, proving to himself time after time that nice boys don’t leave bruises when they hold you in their arms. They don’t crack skulls and split lips with anything but their teeth.

And when blood spills, it’s all by accident.

They clean it up with their mouth. They spit it out again, and it's golden healing.

Billy’s pretty sure he falls through the chair.

Or maybe, the legs break out from under him. And the Earth crawls away, nursing split crust and shattered plates. And the cosmos burns up, like. In one fell swoop.

That first crush times a million and Steve isn’t even here.

“What,” Billy rasps. He clears his throat. Chokes and tries again, climbing up a mountain of truth. “What does that mean?”

Robin won’t look at him.

Billy leans forward. “He’s worried that I’ll stop hanging out if he’s vulnerable with me?”

Robin’s cheeks are red. So pink Billy would chew a roll of HubbaBubba to color match with the fuzzy damp of her skin.

“Did Steve say Friday was my fault?”

She picks at her food.

“Robin,” Billy says.

Robin shakes her head. She won’t look at him.

Billy grinds his teeth, “Robin.”

“No, Billy.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m not getting involved–-"

“You’re getting a head full of mashed potato if you don’t tell me what you’re talking about,” Billy scoops what’s left off his tray, gripping the handle of his spoon so hard he’s sure his palm starts bleeding.

“Billy,” Robin starts.

Billy raises his eyebrows in a venomous threat, leveraging the spoonful of mashed potatoes he’s got locked and loaded.

He’ll do it. He’ll fire the first shot and every blow that comes after and Robin knows he will.

She shifts in her chair, “I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

Robin shakes her head. “I was supposed to keep quiet.”

“Dammit Robin, why the fuck are you speaking in riddles? Why are you acting like you can point fingers and pin blame all from the comfort of your fucking high horse and not get your shit rocked for it?”

“I’m not on my high horse–-”

“Bullshit,” Billy slams his spoon on the table. “You can’t tell me that everything is my fault and not speak the fuck up.”

Billy won’t stand for it.

Robin frowns. “Maybe ‘everything,’ was a bit dramatic.”

“Ugh, Robin.”

“Maybe I should’ve chosen my words a little more carefully,” She dodges the mound of potatoes that goes flying, cheeks red as the sun. “I would’ve. If I could do it over again, I would.”

“Spare me.”

“You know I can’t control my mouth once it gets going, I get, like. Verbal diarrhea.”

Billy jerks into motion and starts gathering his lunch scraps.

Because he’s got a thing about blame, at the root of him. Being saddled with the weight of everything. Everyone’s shit mood and shit decisions and shit consequences, all smeared down the front of his heart just because he’s strong enough to hold it.

Robin stares at him as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. The calculus textbook he’s read twice cover to cover, sits like a familiar childhood blanket against his shoulder blades. His heart rate slows, everything grinds to a halt, and that’s when he realizes that Robin’s about three seconds away from crying.

At lunch.

In the lunchroom.

“Steve’s been such a good friend to me,” Robins says quietly. “He’s never aired my shit, you know? Or put himself in the middle of something that didn’t concern him.”

“Steve’s a good person, he wouldn’t do that.”

“But he could’ve,” Robin scrubs at her face just to make sure it stays dry. “I guess I'm still a little pissed off about Friday.”

Billy slides out of his backpack. “I don’t really blame you. Something’s bothering him, I’ve never seen him flip his lid like that.”

“I’m really worried about him, Bills.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“No, I know you are, it’s just,” Robin bites her lip again, so hard Billy worries that blood will trickle onto the Formica table top. “Have you talked to him about his acceptance letters?”

“His college acceptance letters?”

“Yes,”

Billy blinks, more confused than he’s ever been in his life.

He’s embarrassed to admit that it’s been the farthest thing from his mind. After Billy got into Berkeley and Robin followed close behind, like a toppling domino hellbent on majoring in Forestry, Billy just sort of assumed, that–

“Steve didn’t get in.”

Robin studies her picked-over lunch tray and the table beneath that, like maybe the wood grain will hold the key to the universe if she stares hard enough.

Billy slips into his backpack.

Robin jerks up at him, frowning, “Where are you–”

“Steve’s got free period next, right?”

“Yeah–”

“I’ll be back in time for Calc.” Billy kisses Robin’s cheek, immediately wiping the taste of nosey lesbian from his lips.

Chapter Management

Edit Chapter

Chapter 2

: as long as you followChapter Text

Whatever Steve’s supposed to do with his life is a distant cloud on the horizon until it’s not.

And as his father would say, hardly glancing from the dotted line splayed on the desk in front of him, that Steve’s wrapped in a Molotov of distraction.

He’s never had to work a day in his life, really work, because Steve’s mother wanted him to have a bright and easy childhood. And because of the angelic grace given to him as the result of a long line of lovers who wanted better for their love, Steve won’t make anything of his life.

He digs his heels into that truth, ever his father’s son, making sure to take chunks out of it.

He wants to gather that harshness into a pile and create something else. Build a home or a treehouse or a getaway car.

So he drinks and smokes and fucks his way down the river. Past roiling clouds of semester finals and homecoming games , never really clocking that behemoth milestone in the distance.

Until Billy, who makes Steve so crazy he feels radioactive.

Billy talks about the future all the time. With a curl to his lips and a beer in his hand, ribs and knuckles bruised. When I’m finally out of here and I’m back home, standing in the summer waves—

He makes grand statements. He could sell Steve a plot of land at the edge of the world, his bare feet dangling in the cosmos because anywhere is a step up from here.

And at first, college is a welcome ticket out of Hawkins and away from Billy and all the confusing, fucked up things he makes Steve feel. But then, just as quickly, it becomes about doing everything in his power to stop the wedge of the future from coming between them.

It becomes about giving Billy something to hold onto. It becomes about all those gnarled things his father told him about failure and family names.

Steve’s future starts to look less and less like what he’d never fully imagined. It  doesn’t belong to himself, or to his father, but to Billy.

Just like everything else, it.

It becomes about mortaring a foundation and building a thatched roof to come home to when the stars grow cold.

But love doesn’t change his transcript.

And all the money Steve would rather die than take from his father to make every problem swallow itself doesn’t chip away at reality. For Billy, doors, and windows have opened into bright, golden pastures flanked by possibility as deep as the Pacific ocean, and Steve.

Steve will only hold him back.

–-

He chews on that for a while.

It grows thick and gummy from unsheathed worries and unshed tears and Steve wishes, into the empty well of his endless swimming pool on New Year's Eve, that things were different. That all the money he’s sitting on like a lucky dragon with a pocketful of coins could change the fork in the road.

Steve tries to ignore it.

Billy’s leaving in four months and he’s taking Robin with him and Steve wants that. Wind in Billy’s hair, you know.

Life.

It’s killing him. Robin knows, but only because Steve was wasting away.

She thinks he’s being a dumbass. “Just talk to him,” She says, “You never know what he might say, right? He could–”

What? Steve doesn’t tell her. Billy could give up his dream and stay here in Hawkins and rot and rot and hate me forever.

Billy asks him, “What the fuck has gotten into you,” That night and so many times before. Astute and scholarly and beautiful like an open flame when Steve can’t fake any more smiles.

Billy’s got to fly away. And Steve, regardless of whether he’s earned his wings, wants to jump after him.

–-

He’s parked at the quarry and the sun’s playing peek-a-boo.

On the hood of his car, Steve digs at his jean pockets and tires to imagine that the future could be like this. That maybe, without Robin’s big mouth and Billy’s fierce protection, Steve could find spots of sunlight to bask in so he won’t freeze to death.

But, really, every day is overcast.

He’s tired of pretending otherwise.

So it’s fitting that right as Steve considers walking ten extra feet to the lip of the rocky ground, Billy’s car pulls to a thundering halt and almost skids past the rope barrier, careening off the cliff and into the raging waters below. Steve imagines jumping after him. He would. He–

“You didn’t get into Berk,”

There are countless clouds on the horizon. “Nope,” Steve says, and he pop’s the P because it feels right. New Year New Steve–

Billy shoves him off the car hood. “You’re an asshole.”

Steve can’t fight anymore, “I know,”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

There’s so much he could’ve said then. And now. And always.

I love you, he tries, staring out at a distant line of trees, I want to give you the world.

Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing will change it.”

“Your parents have money, Steve,” Billy tries, and that’s just like him. Steve’s biggest cheerleader.

But Steve lost, alright? The game. The guy.

“It’s not any kind of money I want.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Billy shoves him again. His eyes get caught on Steve’s collarbone, tracing the line of his sweater. “Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?”

“‘M not cold,”

“Your lips are almost blue.”

“So I’ll freeze to death,” Steve admits, like. Big whoop.

But then Billy’s shrugging out of his jacket, “Here,” He says. Pissed and venomous like it’s going against his personal code of ethics to keep Steve alive when all he’s ever been is a dumbass with a hazard sign taped to his ass.

When Steve doesn’t take the warmth that’s offered to him, Billy steps close–

So close Steve gets wind of the ylang-ylang oil Max got him for Christmas

–and drapes the jacket over Steve’s shoulders.

It’s sweet.

It’s exactly the kind of thing Steve would’ve done for Nancy, back when he thought he knew what love was supposed to taste like. It chokes him up, gets those huge, impossible words lodged in the back of his throat so when Billy lights a cigarette and hands it over, Steve nearly chokes to death.

He lives.

Billy sits on the hood of the Beemer. “What are you gonna do now?” He asks.

Steve puffs on the Marlboro, “Maybe I’ll work at my dad’s office.”

“You’re not doing that, Steve.”

“Okay, then I’ll go missing,” He passes the cigarette back over, trying to brush Billy’s skin with his fingertips one last time, “Maybe I’ll die if I’m–”

“What happened to Marine Biology?” Billy shifts on the hood of the car so his knees press, sharp as knives, into Steve’s hip bone.

He looks so open. Earnest and dead-set on solving all of Steve’s problems for him, making a way, and forging a path in fire when the road won’t yield its secrets. It’s so Billy, so exactly the reason Steve loves him, that. He can’t hold onto it anymore.

“That was a lie,” Steve admits, “I don’t know shit about biology or the ocean beyond what I’ve seen on the History channel, I just. Wanted to be with you.”

The truth lands like cold water on Billy’s lap.

Steve flicks ash from the end of the last cigarette he’ll ever share with Billy, and. Thinks this is what love tastes like. Truth and smoke and clear, bright wintery air.

“My whole life, nothing and no one ever really made sense. For so long I was avoiding every turn that brought the future because I didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but then–”

“But then?” Billy asks, so quiet Steve almost misses it.

He takes a deep breath. “I met you,” He admits.

And it feels good.

It’s almost as good as flying, so Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I met you and everything made sense. You talk about the ocean so much that I really did want to learn more. I thought, if he loves it then I could, too. Because I love him and I would do anything, be anyone, if it would make him smile. I wanted to study its ways and become fluent in its language so when you spoke, I could talk back. I wanted to be good enough to make you love me, good enough to take you away from here, But I’m not.”

Steve scrubs a hand across his face.

“You don’t need me to take you away from here, though. I think I always knew that. You’re strong enough to do that yourself. I’m sorry I’m not good enough, Bill.”

The sun disappears behind a bank of thick, gray clouds, and Steve imagines freezing solid.

It’s fitting. A neon sign that proves Steve was right.

Billy takes the cigarette when it’s offered to him. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Steve starts the grieving process, truly dawning a black veil for the death of what was and what never will be.

Steve slides off the hood of the car.

“Do you want to see the West with me?”

He looks over his shoulder. The wind kicks Billy’s curls into his face, hiding his eyes so he looks like a mysterious figure, an ancient God, offering the world on a silver tray.

“I,” Steve mutters, “I don’t understand–”

“You can’t stay here.”

Steve stands his ground. “I can. I have to.”

“I’m not letting you go,” Billy determines. Because he’s beautiful and stubborn and when the wind flows into the east, his eyes bore holes into the cosmos.

Billy slips off the hood of the Beemer, heels cracking so even though they’re standing on even ground all of a sudden, Steve imagines toppling through the crater left behind and voyaging to the center of the Earth.

Billy must pick up on Steve’s master plan.

He sets his jaw in a cut line that has always and will always mean business. “You can’t offer me the world and then take it away because you’re scared,” Billy tells him. He steps close, fingers toying with the hair at the base of Steve’s skull. “I want to get out of this fucking town, Harrington,”

“You should,” Steve blubbers. He’s crying, when did he start– “You should run away and never look back, you know?”

“I plan to,” Billy says bluntly, “And you’re coming with me.”

“Billy–”

“Here’s the plan,” Billy wipes at Steve’s tears, his own eyes dry and resolute. “Over spring break, we’ll take that trip to California just like we said we would. We’ll smoke a lot of dope and I’ll teach you to surf and Robin and I will look around campus–”

“--That sounds great-–”

“--And we’ll find an apartment,” Billy insists, somehow eclipsing the sun and the entire vast, endless spread of the Earth behind him. “We’ll find an apartment, and you’ll go to community college and even if you decide to write terrible poetry and do nothing else for the rest of your fucking life, it won’t matter. Because we’re gonna grow old together, okay?”

He grips the ends of Steve’s hair and tugs, yanking until Steve finally cracks a smile.

“Okay,” Steve says.

When Billy kisses him, it’s like falling apart and fusing together, over and over again until Steve is made new.

Somewhere between the past and the future, the sun escapes the bank of clouds

They hardly notice.

[animabenevolus-a]

"Why are we talking about my dad's ass......." Excuse him while he goes to be sick somewhere.

[starfrckled-a]

SPICY  /  VIOLENT MEME,  &  @misbehavc  (  accepting  )

   HIS BACK HITS THE WALL AS HE STUMBLES, not hard enough to actually crack the surface. Usually, it wouldn’t raise any particular worries, since they have this habit of turning the palace into their playground sometimes, but the silence that follows is definitely wrong, too heavy. This is not one of their games. Demetri has been on edge since their little trip to Forks  —  as useless as it was  —  and now he feels as if someone has opened a lid that should have stayed sealed shut. Things are pouring out, things he doesn’t like  :  sand all around, a smile on his face  ——  why? Why was he smiling like that? So bright, honest. Like he truly enjoyed being there.    Demetri slides down the wall, instead of laughing it out, or attacking back, as if being slapped switched something off in him. It should be gone, all of it, Aro made sure, and yet here he is, feeling like a junkie who hasn’t gotten poison in his veins for too long. Yes, Chelsea is going to make him feel better, she is going to fix this. For now, though? He is left feeling sick and he knows those two are to blame, what little remains of his old coven and the replacement, of course.    « Fuck’s wrong with me? »

[chaospivot-blog]

TAGS; IC / OOC

[beanieman]

Your Turn To Die Characters As Life Is Strange And Before The Storm Songs

(I didn’t think any of them fit Shunsuke so I didn’t put him here.)

Sara Chidouin - “In My Mind” (And when they put me in the ground. I'll start pounding the lid Saying I haven't finished yet I still have a tattoo to get. That says I'm living in the moment. And it's funny how I imagined that I could win this, win this fight. But maybe it isn't all that funny that I've been fighting all my life.) Joe Tazuna - “Bros” (Shake your hair, have some fun. Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone. Oh, I'm so lucky, you are my best friend. Oh, there's no one, there's no one who knows me like you do.) Gin Ibushi - “Crosses” ( Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you? Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you?) Keiji Shinogi - “Alone With A Heart" (Alone with a dream, a silly old dream. A dream that faded away. How I'll get through today? I just don't know.) Alice Yabusame - “Piano Fire” ( Fiery pianos wash up on a foggy coast. Squeaky old organs have given up the ghost. Fire them up and kill the pianos. There's creaky old organs burning on the coast.) Reko Yabusame - “Are You Ready For Me” ( Damned. I'm caught up in a trance of youthful arrogance. A voice who's fueled by pain. Lost and no one gave a toss. But now we've took our slot and so the story changed.) Nao Egokoro - “Youth” (Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette. A lifeless face that you'll soon forget. My eyes are damp from the words you left. Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest. Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest.) Kazumi Mishima - “Black Flies” (Black flies on the windowsill. That we are. That we are. That we are to know. Winter stole summer's thrill. And the river's cracked and cold.) Q-taro Burgerberg - “Hope” (Go, go back to where you held armor against your skin. Don't sink, just swim towards the storm. And once again you'll be reborn, reborn, reborn.) Kai Satou - “Mountains” (And we could run away. Before the light of day. You know we always could. The mountains say, the mountains say.) Kanna Kizuchi - “Spanish Sahara” (Black rocks and shoreline sand. Still that summer I cannot bare. And I wipe the sand of my arms. The Spanish Sahara, the place that you'd wanna. Leave the horror here.) Shin Tsukimi - “Mt.Washington” (Digging like you can bury. Something that cannot die. Or we could wash the dirt off our hands now. Keep it from living underground.) Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - “No Below” ( You didn't know me, but he knew me best. The weight of my brain and the fear of my cold head. You never saw me, interred in the ice. My friend tried to melt, but he couldn't thaw me out right. So I got ditched freezing, alone with my thoughts.) Naomichi Kurumada - “Don’t Mess With Me” (I've got the feeling I can break out of anything that is standing in my way. You're the reason I can stay and fight until the death’. Cause what I stand for will not give up.) Anzu Kinashi who I used some creative liberties on - “Fly” ( I reached out to touch the sky. Just tried, reached out to touch the sky. Just be, it's the simplest way to be free. You gotta just just do create the world which you wish to see.) Mai Tsurugi - “Burn It Down” (Always said I was a good kid. Always said I had a way with words. Never knew I could be speechless. Don't know how I'll break this curse.) Hinako Mishuku - “Lucky Ones” ( And everyone you know is searching for some answers. So they won’t feel afraid. All their fears disappear. The future crashes in through moments uninvited leading us away, leading us into a world of only.)

[illfoandillfie]

uhm if you still need and want a benny boi request: hiking with him and soft sex by the fireplace to warm up 🥺 or in the tent bc it's probably pretty cold ngl

(@queenmylovely​)

God you bitches get me. These prompts are wonderful and came in about 30 seconds apart lmao so i hope you like what I did with them!

warnings: smut but its like super somft and fluffy, also a lil bit of arguing

Blurb Advent: Day 16

The trip wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined it would be. Initially you’d been planning to get away during Summer, maybe head to the beach for a couple of weeks, spend your time relaxing in the sun, hitting the waves. But the timing never quite worked out and the whole idea of going away was put on hold until it had cooled down again. And of course, once it became clear the trip would be in winter, you had to stop thinking of the beach and find somewhere new to go. Luckily (you supposed) a family friend of Ben’s had a cabin in the woods that he was happy to let you use. You weren’t quite as thrilled with it as you would have been a little beach side cottage, but you really just wanted some time for you and Ben without other distractions and he wanted to get out of the city. And neither of you wanted to wait another six months for the break. So the arrangements were made and early on a Friday morning you grumbled your way out of bed and into the warmest clothes you owned, packing everything into the car, ready to head off on your holiday.

 The cabin was cute, surrounded by tall trees and the promise of picturesque views. A generator had been installed a few years previous to allow access to electricity and there was a large rain tank to collect water for all the plumbing systems. You had been warned that in dryer weather you may need to seek out the nearby well to collect water for drinking and cooking. There’d been a lot of rain in the previous month so you didn’t think you’d need to worry about it but, all the same, you kept it in mind, adding a few metal water bottles to your essential supplies (which included things like food, the makings of tea and coffee, toothpaste and condoms). On top of the essentials you also made sure to pack Ben’s guitar and your travel paint set in the hopes that the seclusion and nature would inspire you both.

 The first day was mostly spent getting there and unpacking. When you arrived, you had to carry all your gear up a short incline that the car couldn’t access but it was worth it when you saw the scene. It was gorgeous, the surrounding woods a little damp with fresh rainfall, the cabin looking cozy and warm and perfect for a romantic getaway. You spent the morning putting food in the fridge and poking around the cabin, getting the doors and windows open to let in some air and natural light. In the afternoon you checked out the store of firewood and decided to collect some more so that it would have time to dry out under cover before you needed it. Together, bundled up in warm coats and gloves, you walked around the immediate area, collecting any logs that looked large enough as well as smaller sticks for kindling. In the evening you made dinner together and settled in for a night on the couch, wrapped in as many blankets as you could get your hands on. Things had been so busy lately you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you were taking a break from it all. But the chaos you’d been living in had meant you didn’t get much of a chance to talk to Ben properly so that was what you did. Snuggled up on the couch and talked, finally able to just be together.

 The next day Ben suggested you check out the surrounding area, follow the hiking trail up the hill and see what was out there. There were practical reasons like finding the well just in case you did need it, but mostly it was just for fun. You each filled a backpack with a water bottle and some food as well as a grabbing a small first aid kit, some bug spray to combat the mosquitos you’d noticed the night before, and your paints. Ben slung his guitar over his back and you set off. The walk itself was fine though there were a few steep places on the trail. Ben used them as an excuse to hold your hand, getting a few steps higher and then offering his to help you follow. It was silly but cute and you found yourself giggling whenever he did it. It was quiet too, which was nice. You didn’t meet any other people on the trail but that meant you could stop and point out creatures that crossed your path or pause to take photos of interesting plants and pretty views you might like to paint later.

 At the top of the hill was a little lookout area with a park bench. Since you seemed to have it to yourself you unpacked your bags and ate lunch looking out over the tops of the trees below. As you ate you pulled out your sketchbook and started to draw things you could see, going over some with paints and leaving others as just the outline. Ben pulled out his guitar and found a small spot to lean against a tree and play softly, his eyes closed as he plucked at the strings. It was tranquil and peaceful and perfect. Or nearly perfect. You hadn’t noticed it as much while you were walking but now that you were standing still you realised just how freezing cold it was. For a while you tried to ignore it but eventually you had to speak up.

“Benny? Are you getting cold? My fingers are starting to freeze, maybe we should think about heading back?”

Ben dropped into the seat beside you and grabbed your hands in his, “I’ll warm them up for you.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled, not mentioning how unhelpful of a suggestion it was, “But I’m serious. The walk up here took a while anyway, might be best to start heading back down now, before it starts getting dark and even colder. Plus I don’t like the look of those clouds,” you pointed to a dark patch of sky off in the distance.

Ben eyed the rainclouds and thought for a moment, “Alright, you make a good point. Let’s pack up.”

 As quickly as you could you packed everything back into your bags and began to make your way back down the slope. Walking did help warm you up again though you couldn’t help but mention your need to defrost in front of the fire. And your discomfort only got worse as the rain began. The trees protected you a little but not enough and before long your teeth were chattering and your toes felt numb. Ben was just as unhappy, his hair dripping onto his face as he snapped at you to hurry up. He got particularly cranky when you paused to take a photo of the pretty haze the rain had thrown over one of the scenes you’d photographed on your way up, the roof of your cabin just visible through the trees.

“All your fucking complaining and now you want to stop to take pictures? Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for me you’d still be sitting up at the fucking lookout twiddling your thumbs.”

“You’re so fucking full of it. And slow! Could you walk a little faster please!” Ben tried to grab your hand and pull you along but you shook him off.

“It’s not my fault my feet feel like ice blocks. I didn’t even want to come out to this stupid cabin.”

“You’re the one who was practically begging for me to take you somewhere.”

“Yeah but not a fucking cabin in the middle of nowhere. This is the start of a horror film Ben. You brought me to a horror film.”

“Y’know this isn’t exactly what I wanted either. I was hoping for something a little more romantic, a little less bitching.”

“Well I think you’ve put paid to that.” You spat back, dropping your eyes to your feet so you could watch the terrain you were walking over, not wanting to slip in case Ben decided to walk ahead.

 You were surprised when Ben held his hand out to you, offering his help to get down a particularly uneven patch of the path, but you took it all the same.

“Sorry,” he said softly, keeping his hand tight around yours, “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“It was lovely up until the rain,” you shrugged, “Sorry I stopped before, and that I’ve been winging so much,”

“Hey, you’re allowed to winge, especially when your idiot boyfriend gets you stuck freezing to death in the middle of nowhere,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly, “but maybe he can make it up to you when you get back to the cabin?”

“How?”

“I’m thinking we get the fire going and sit as close to it as we can until we’re warm. I can make us some hot chocolate and then maybe we whip up a curry for dinner? Something really hot.”

You chucked and nodded, “Sounds good. Can I make one request?” “What is it?” “Can we cuddle? While we’re in front of the fire?”

“The cuddling was implied. It’s the most romantic thing I can think of so of course we’re cuddling.”

“You’re not an idiot Ben. And walking in the rain is kind of romantic, especially when there’s a fire to go back to.”

Ben pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as you walked.

 By the time you got back to the cabin you were damp through, though your shoes felt completely soaked. Ben was true to his word though, peeling off his jacket and bending over the fireplace as he told you to go and get changed. You dug out clean, dry clothes, throwing Ben’s hoodie over the top. You grabbed all the blankets you could and came out to a fire coming to life as Ben hurried off to change. While he was gone you dropped the blankets on the floor, a little back from the fireplace, creating a sort of nest for the two of you.

“You stole my hoodie,” Ben pouted.

“Can’t blame me, it’s so warm and soft and I look cute in it,”

He chucked as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arms around you, “all of that is very true.”

For a while you just sat together, letting the feeling come back to your fingers and toes. Ben asked to see the photos you’d taken, pointing out scenery he thought would make nice artwork, and especially anything you could hang on the walls at home.

“I hope your sketchbook didn’t get too wet”

“I don’t think the rain got into the bags too much. What about your guitar?”

“It should be fine, it’s been in worse weather. Sorry I was short with you before,” he said quietly, his nose bumping your cheek.

You turned your head towards him, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too.”

He kissed you softly, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

You sighed against his lips and shifted to better face him, discouraging him from moving away.

 Ben kissed you slowly and deeply, as if he intended to just keep kissing you all night. But gradually his hands began to wander too, fingertips lightly tracing patterns over your sides as they slipped further down. You hummed at the touch, mirroring him, trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Slowly, he inched the hem of the hoodie higher until he could pull it over your head. You didn’t mind, plenty warm from the fire and Ben’s embrace.

“This okay?” Ben asked between small kisses along the corner of your mouth, his fingers already tugging at your shirt.

“Mmhmm, very,”

He nodded and lifted your shirt over your head, keeping his arms up so you could do the same to him.

He didn’t rush, leisurely following the line of your throat with his lips, humming in response to your whimpers and mewls. You were already wet when he wriggled his hand under the band of your leggings, exacerbating your arousal as he stroked along your slit.

 Once he had your pants off he rolled you onto your front, making sure you were comfortable amongst all the blankets, the heat of the fire washing over you. Gently, he hooking his fingers into the top of your underwear, pulling them down your legs, leaving soft kisses on your lower back and arse and thighs.

“Give me two seconds, babe,” he whispered, tugging his own pants off and leaning over to grab one of your backpacks.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at the noise.

“Might have thrown a couple of condoms in here, just in case.”

“In case? In case of what?”

“I don’t know. In case the view made you super horny or we wandered into a fairy ring and ended up kidnapped by pervert fairies. Just, y’know, in case.”

“You’re so stupid,” you laughed, tapping him with your foot as you lay down again, your arms folded under your head.

“I was just preparing for any eventuality.”

“Mmm well, you might want to hurry up and prepare or else I’m gonna fall asleep here. It’s very comfortable,”

“Don’t do that, hang on,” You heard Ben tear at the wrapper and then swear and then tear it again as you laughed into your arms.

“Alright, ready. You still awake,”

“Surprisingly, yes,”

“Good,” his voice was close to your ear as he lay over you, cocooning you in his warmth as he entered you from behind.

You moaned into your arm as he slowly rocked into you, his chest against your back as he braced himself on arms either side of you. There wasn’t much scope for anything fast or hard but it was intimate, his cock pressed against your g-spot so that every slight shift of his hips sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

Ben kissed your shoulder and left his lips there as he mumbled, “feel good?”

“Mmhmm, fucking incredible,”

“Mmm, you feel incredible too.”

You pushed your self up and looked around for Ben. Within seconds he was kissing you again, tongue dragging over your lips as another jolt shot though you and you gasped.

 For a while you stayed like that, your movements lazy and slow. But it wasn’t enough to push you over the edge, even with Ben groaning in your ear or sucking at your pulse point.

“I need more Ben,”

“Alright, babe, if I pull out are you good to roll over?”

You nodded, catching him in another kiss to show your appreciation.

Once you were on your back, leaning on your forearms, Ben adjusted his position, his legs falling between yours as he lined himself up once more. He wasn’t much deeper but the angle was different and you felt Ben hit a spot he hadn’t reached before as he leaned over you and attached his lips to your neck again.

“Fuck, Ben,” The fire was still burning, heating your opposite side as you threw your arm around Ben, digging your nails into his back as he gave an experimental thrust.

“This better?” “Yeah. You make me feel so good,”

Ben smiled and lay you back further, so he didn’t have to hold himself up with his arms, instead allowing him to slide one hand between you to softly play with your clit.

You grasped at his back as his hips snapped against yours harder, his fingers constantly rubbing at your clit.

“C’mon, babe, you’re close aren’t you.”

You nodded again, feeling as if you’d lost the ability to form words as your back arched. Everything was warm and comfortable – the fire and the blankets and Ben’s low voice, mumbling encouragement between kisses – and before you fully comprehended it was happening, your orgasm washed over you, pulling Ben’s name from your throat. He mirrored you a few seconds later, groaning your name as he stilled, his forehead falling to meet yours.

Carefully he rolled off you and you shuffled around to lean your head on his chest, still mostly tucked up in your blanket nest.

It was quiet for a moment as you both settled, your breathing falling into sync as you watched the fire and listened to the rain that had only gotten heavier while you were wrapped up in each other.

Suddenly Ben spoke, his tone more than a little braggy, “How’s that for romantic.”

[antiquecompass]

For XichenWeek2020 Day 5, we’re still in Journeys ‘verse, this time with a post-In the Woods Somewhere ficlet:

Lan Xichen, the Winter King, had a smile as kind as summer, a voice as soothing as a spring meadow, and a presence as comforting as an autumn fire. His wrath, however, was pure winter. Cold, burning, the kind that stole the air from your lungs. It was a rare sight to see the beloved Winter King so angry, even rarer for something to invoke his wrath, but it had happened now and the Sidhe Elder who had done so quivered under his stare and the choking weight of his anger.

It was made even more potent by the added glares of the Royal Spouse and the two young princes.

The young princes who were, unfortunately--stupidly--for the elder, the reason for such anger.

“Please, Elder, repeat those words,” the Winter King hissed as ice started to form in the air. his glowing eyes almost white, “so that I may commit them all to memory.”

“We can not have bastards as our future leaders,” the Elder repeated.

The Royal Spouse scoffed as he held the youngest prince in his arms. “Aren’t all Sidhe royals bastards in manner?” he asked. “Save you, My King.”

The Winter King's eyes faded to their normal soothing glow as he spared a brief, small smile for his husband and heirs. If the Elder hoped to find his salvation in such a respite, it was soon dashed. The Royal Spouse turned his back on the Elder, a clear sign where his opinion lay.

The Winter King turned his eyes from his family back to the quivering Elder at the foot of his throne. When he spoke, it was not with kindness, but a slow, deliberate cadence. So his words would be heard. So his words would be remembered.

“Lan Jingyi and Jin Ling are members of this clan, this family, and this court. I have deemed them worthy as our princes. This has been confirmed by the Lan Family Elders and agreed to by the Queen of the Sidhe in Ville. You are only an elder of the Winter Court and have no say, influence, or impact on Lan Heir Law. Mind your words, Elder, before you lose your tongue.”

“We do not even know the babe’s parentage,” the Elder said.

Xichen stood and the Court immediately fell to its knees.

“You were warned,” Xichen said. He turned to his husband. “Was he not?”

“He was,” Jiang Cheng agreed. He crouched down to gather Jin Ling in his arms as well, a prince on each side of him. “I think we shall go see to our lunch now.” His eyes passed over to the trembling Elder, bowed low on the frozen lake that served as the floor of the Winter King’s hall. He smirked as one of the creatures below bumped against the ice and an ominous crack sounded under the man.

“These bastards, as you call them, are also of Lotus Pier and of the Sirens. They have far more royal connections than you ever shall, but the water heard your words, Elder. And the water remembers.”

Jiang Cheng left with his final warning.

Xichen towered over the Elder and stared.

“It is a betrayal of your position in this Court to insult innocents, children at that, with such words. To insult the Lan Clan, which you vowed to serve, with such words. To argue with me, the King you swore allegiance towards, with such words. You will find that I am the most lenient Winter King this Court has ever seen, but I will not stand for this. You will not do to my sons what you did to my mother.”

The Court grew silent as everyone’s breath was caught and held in Xichen’s grasp, their lungs burning with the ice cold grip.

“Let this be a lesson in my kindness where you have shown ignorance and hate,” Xichen said. He turned and left the room, only loosening his power’s hold once he left the hall.

**********

Xichen’s bath was disturbed by a usurper. The cold water turned hot as the body slid in beside him.

“I do not know how you stand these ice baths,” Jiang Cheng complained. “Centuries of it and I still do not understand.”

“The coldness is to bring clarity to a warring mind,” Xichen said. He sighed as he leaned back into his husband's arms, smiled at the soft kiss pressed to the top of his head, at the fingers pushing his hair to the side, the mouth that began to feast on his neck.

“You were terrifying today,” Jiang Cheng whispered into his ear as the water continued to heat up around them, sparks of magic and lightning prickling Xichen’s skin. “It was glorious.”

“No one insults our family,” Xichen said.

“They certainly won’t now,” Jiang Cheng agreed. “My fierce Sidhe King. So proud and protective of our boys.”

Xichen tilted his head back and stole a kiss. And then another. And a third.

“I promised them,” Xichen said. “Your sister and her husband. I promised them I would see Jin Ling to his bright future. I vowed to her, before our wedding, that I would give you more days of joy than sadness. It’s an oath I take as seriously as the one I made when they first placed that crown upon my head. I do not ask them to pay tribute to me in jewels or gifts or other goods. I do not demand their coin for my personal wealth. I do not start unneeded battles for my own reputation. All I ask is their respect towards my family. It is a small price, and that Elder refused it today, and may it be the last.”

“Oh, I hope it is not the very last,” Jiang Cheng’s voice teased as his fingers did the same, dipping below the water. “It is a rare but thrilling thing, to see you at the end of your tether, that power brimming on the edge. I love you so, my gentle heart, but you even stole my breath today.”

“You’re terrible,” Xichen said, even as he laughed at the old line.

“And I’m yours,” Jiang Cheng said.

And he was, forever now, truly and fully bonded, their life forces finally combined. Xichen’s magical brand, the one over his heart, glowed in response to Jiang Cheng’s own.

Jiang Cheng stole his own kiss then, hand wrapping around Lan Xichen’s throat, tilting his head back, so close and so tight and almost dangerous, but a sign of trust, to have a king so vulnerable in his arms.

He was Xichen’s balance: fire to ice, sharp to soft, logic to sentiment, wrath to kindness. They were each other’s balance, and yet, they had become a mixture of each other and so now, Jiang Cheng both warmed his cold wrath and stoked a fire within him.

“I think,” Jiang Cheng said, pulling away, panting. “That tonight seems like a perfect night for a vow renewal. They never bother us when it’s time to renew one of our oaths.”

Xichen could not agree more.

He looked forward to what the night held.

[thesunlovesmuses]

One Word (An Introduction)

Prompt: Describe each character in the works with just one word

Author’s Note: So i’m using this prompt as a sort of introduction to my characters for my short stories just in case anyone get’s confused as to who the characters used in the prompts are, or if anyone's interested in learning a bit more about them past the short stories. Unfortunately, I’m not great at drawing, so I hope the description of them will do them justice. It’ll mostly consist of My main fantasy groups. But if I feel the need to write a random piece about different characters, I’ll include them below as well. But without further ado... Here we go!

The Mylanthia Series (Main Series):

Main Characters

Katiana Pensworth (An adventurer and storyteller who’s village gets burned down at a young age and gets taken in by a wizard and his partner. Now she wishes to make her own way in the word, making her own stories and maybe finding out where her biological family is now and who attacked her village) - Peacemaker

Izax Salisca (A royal wizard and teacher at the Fabalan Academy, who takes Katiana in after her home is eradicated. He taught Katiana all he knows about basic magics and how to defend one’s self on the road.) - Practical

Azra Bhaskera (A part time singer at the Cloven Cart Tavern in Serden Village and Izax’s Partner. He taught Katiana all he knows about storytelling and acting diplomatically in a confrontation) - Pacifist

Luka Harrington (Katiana’s Adoptive brother, who was also taken in by Izax after his parents died, who happened to be the old royal wizards of the kingdom.) - Intelligent

Mylanthia’s Gods

Eerina (Goddess of Beginnings, Life, Safe childbirth & Peace) - Loving

Mophy (God of the Sun, the Day, the Sky & Mountains) - Thrill-Seeker

Kisala (Goddess of Spring, Scholars, Knowledge & Nature) - Wise

Ilmari (God of Storms, Oceans, Wild Nature & Fertility) - Irritated

Aezir (Goddess of Literature, Stories, Music & Performers) - Flirter

Amion (God of the Night, Dreams, Summer & Magic) - Imaginative

Rosdia (Goddess of Love, Marriage, Happiness & The Moon) - Silent

Hendorr (God of Commerce, Fortune, Merchants & Luck) - Frivolous 

Rasulla (Goddess of Fire, Forges, Autumn & Deserts) - Bold

Iktar (God of War, Strategy, Wisdom & Perseverance) - Cold-Hearted

Zelara (Goddess of Winter, Ice, Family & the Hearth) - Motherly

Odum (God of Endings, Death, Glory & Remembrance) - Respectful

Mylanthia’s Royalty

Lawrence Farbridge (The current King of the Kingdom of Lenoa, who walks a fine line between party animal and tactical genius) - Boisterous 

Esmerelda Farbridge (The old Queen of the Kingdom of Lenoa and Ridge’s old lover, who sadly died in the war against the Angurian Empire) - Benevolent 

Pablo Coppermore (The King’s Royal Advisor, who spends most of his time trying to keep total war from breaking out between Ridge and Andreas.) - Overworked

Leonides Angura (The Emperor of the Angurian Empire, who only thinks of the survival of his kingdom, no matter wat the effect on the others he’s supposed to be in an alliance with.) - Vengeful

Lynn Angura (The Deceased Empress of the Angurian Empire , who died after giving birth to her son.) - Angelic

Dillon Angura (The heir of  the Angurian Empire, who doesn’t agree with his father’s methods at all.)  - Meek

Parvati El-Hassam (The duchess of Al-Bascriya, and puppet to her advisor and older sister.) - Exploitable

Zena El-Hassam (Parvati’s older sister and her advisor, who manipulates her in order to enact laws that benefit her and her lifestyle.) - Tyrant

The Fabalan Academy Arc

Iris Al-Hajjar (A knight student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers, who only wounded up there through an accident involving uncontrolled magic.) - Tomboy

Luka Harrington (A magic student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers and Professor Izax’s Assistant.) - Intelligent

Holly Willingham (A messenger student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers, who caused the accident that made her and Iris come here.) - Butterfingered

Asriel Talasen (A knight Student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers, who originated from the Nation of Al-Bascriya and is the #1 fencer in the academy) - Charismatic

Finnigan Fenrir (A senior magic Student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers, who’s said t be the best magic user of his generation.) - Untouchable

Dillon Angura (A magic Student at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers and the Prince of the Empire of Angura, who fled to get away from his tyrannical father.) - Meek

Izax Salisca (The Magic Teacher at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers and the Royal Wizard for the king) - Practical

Diamond Jack (The Message Teacher at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers, the royal jester and a spy for the king) - Deceiving

Zula Flintward (The Knight Teacher at the Fabalan Academy of Messengers and well known mercenary across all of Lenoa)  - Apathetic

Midelia (The Fairy Queen and Ruler of the Fae, who holds the barrier between the mortal and fae worlds) - Alluring

The Rebellion Arc

Allister Sutton (One of the leaders of the rebellion and Lucien’s best friend. Fighting for his home so everything can go back to normal.) - Determined

Lucien Ingleton (One of the leaders of the rebellion and Lucien’s best friend. He was also the next in line to be mayor of Serden. Fighting so everyone exiled can live in peace again) - Sorrowful

Simon Ingleton (Lucien’s little brother who likes to talk big and had a fondness for explosives and spells) - Hyper

Tobias Creede (Simon’s best friend who abandoned his home so he can camp in the woods with his best friend.) - Caring

Comet (A villager bitten by a werewolf and hunted down, as the new mayor believed he would turn and kill them all.) - Sharp

Clarissa Nightingale (A friend of Lucien’s and Allisters and the daughter of the town’s cartographer. Doesn’t trust outsiders easily.) - Protective

Eenix (The new Mayor of Serden Village, determined to completely obliterate the vision the Ingleton’s had and turn it into a solely profit based community.) - Power-Hungry

The Mylos Village Arc

Ridge Astaril (A demigod and wizard who tries his hardest to squirm out of tasks the king gives him to do, so he can work on his ascension instead.) - Ambitious

Mikhail Belleville (Head Priest of Mylos Village, who’s family moved in as soon as Miles’s moved away) - Conniving

Samuel Belleville (The son of the Head Priest, who despite the kind nature on first looks, has a strange and sinister air about him.) - Deceiving

The Roaming Angels (The best guild members in their classes)

Felicity Mayweather (A Human Bard who is welcome in the Borealis court of the fae after being abandoned there, and explores the world to bring stories back to them) - Diplomatic

Kosmeros (A Tiefling Warlock and university student who had his voice stolen after making a pact with the Prince of Frost, and now roams the world looking for a way to break the pact.) - Graceful

Blaze (A Fire Genasi Artificer who searches the world looking for rare materials and rumours of a thief stealing other artificer’s projects, wishing to put a stop to the thief before making his own Magnum Opus.) - Perfectionist

Caspien Aquilus (A Triton Monk who fled from his home under the sea with his cousin to protect soome ancients texts of their god from a mercenary who will do anything to take it from him to her client.) - Soothing

Gareth Mordecai Faolan (A Shifter Bloodhunter who’s family got killed in a bandit raid, and now uses all the cons and ticks he knows to get by and find information on the head of the bandits, so he can kill him himself.) - Trickster

Scora Criashi (An Aarokocra Ranger on a mission for the princess to disband an underground crime ring and black market.) - Attentive

Irisa Nemli (A blind Aasimar Sorcerer who literally fell from the sky to come to the mortal world, in order to find a way to control her wild magic she was cursed with.) - Scatter-brained

Keiji (A Tabaxi Rogue, born an orphan, who steals to fund the orphanage he grew up in, and who’s currently on the run from a mafia group in the capital.) - Explicit

Sidra (A Half-Orc Druid who wants to destroy the artefacts stolen from a temple in the swamp her tribe guards, so no-one can raise the monster named Iblis again) - Feral

Arlayna Doncaster (A Half-Elf Wizard who ran away from home and is on the run after her family didn’t accept her loving a member of a rival house; Safira) - Proper 

Bradir Azzanurth (A Dragonborn who became a Paladin after his dad died protecting others. Taken under the wings of his dad’s friends, he now roams the land helping everyone he meets and aspires to be just like his dad.) -Rambunctious

Fengryra Brenfyx (A Firbolg Cleric who was raised by her grandma with three other apprentices, who’s looking for a way to stop the Twilight Forest from dying and turning to ash) - Welcoming

Kruznek Honeydew (A Dwarf Fighter who left his wife and kids after his entire battalion died in a fight against a pack of Orcs and Kobolds, on a journey to find himself and get rid of the guilt he feels) - Inhospitable

Rhodelia Shiendroth (A Centaur Barbarian who was sold as a child to a gladiator house. She escaped the house along with three other gladiators and now works as a mercenary.) - Fearless

One Shot Characters:

Zephyr’s Rising (Sky Island Fantasy, based off of a book in the main series)

Zephyr Redgrove (A sky pirate who stole a ship in order to explore the archipelago) - Cocky

Petra Halton (A villager and flutist who’s parents went missing during an exploration, who wants to see if she can find them after finding her mum’s diary.) - Timid

Abbi Krivanek (Zephyr’s friend and Navigator, who’s joined his ship to make sure he doesn’t kill himself while exploring the World) - Cautious

Almac Vegner (Pirate and Treasure hunter who Zephyr hired in order to find all the best spots and to help fish treasure from out of the cloud sea.) - Charlatan 

Orion Bizeron (Animal Tracker and adopted younger brother of Tamari, who’s helping Zephyr find a rainbow coloured Phoenix). - Thoughtful

Tamari Bizeron (A cloud ray rider who adopted Orion when she found him on the street. Went with Orion to hunt down a phoenix and now acts as the ship’s gunner.) - Outgoing

Esien Perisey (A friend of Petra’s who runs the library in town, who has agreed to help Zephyr only to make sure Petra stays safe. Also the only person who can cook onboard the ship.) - Sarcastic

Ferdinand Everton (The Assistant to the council members of the Cardinal Council, who has been sent to stay aboard the S.S. Cloud Ray to keep an eye on the crew for the council) - Stubborn

Galatea Sauroak (Head of The Cardinal Council and in charge of dolling out punishments to pirates) - Reliable

Jett Palinsky (A member of The Cardinal Council, who is also the number one Cloud Ray Surfer in the Archipelago.) - Heart-Throb

Jasper Denholm (A member of The Cardinal Council who is stuck in the traditionalist ways and believes all pirates should be hung.) - Cold-Hearted

Aamina Al-Jabour (A member of The Cardinal Council who gives all of her work to other people to do so she can do what she wants instead) - Lazy

S0-L4R-1S (Space Adventure)

Kai Rutherford (The Face of the operations and Captain of the S0-L4R-1S, delivering goods and people for any faction in space, as long as they have enough coin to do so.) - Laid-Back

Erinne Briggs (The Ship’s onboard engineer and the only one in the galaxy who knows how to fix such an old and outdated ship.) - Spunky

Atul Kusari (The Onboard Weapon’s Expert who keeps pirate’s off of their back when trying to deliver goods to people.) - Eager

Rymond Heisenburg (The Navigator onboard and Zarinah’s Fiancée. The only one allowed to choose which jobs the crew goes on... ever since the accident.) - Composed

Zarinah Heisenburg (Rymond’s Fiancée who helps to create disguises for the rest of the crew when they have to do something dodgy.) - Ditzy

[localmagicalboi]

✨ muse interview.

✨ TAGGED BY: i stole it.....! ✨ TAGGING: @cailicah @deadmenanddemons @antibuttons @lastlycoris @motherwitch @bountyman @flamefell + uh just steal it ya dig.

( INSERT PRICE IS RIGHT THEME HERE. )

NAME? ❝Hi, I'm Virote Srisati! You can also call me Dumb Asshole That Won't Leave Kinokuniya, This Dipshit Has Been Staring At The Cardcaptor Sakura Display For Twenty Minutes, Just What Is He Doing. Someone Come Collect This Little Bastard Man.❞

ARE YOU SINGLE? ❝I'm something! I am definitely... Something. I'm married to my work. I will always be married to my work. What's a man? What's a man. Is that something you can eat?❞

ARE YOU HAPPY? ❝Once again, I'm something! I'm not happy, but I'm not unhappy. I'm here. I'm content. Like, lukewarm. Like, you know. You leave your pasta in the pot to cool down and then it feels like something wiggly and room temperature. Like that. You feel me? You don't feel me, do you?❞

ARE YOU ANGRY? ❝I'm out here trying to destroy everyone over 5'3", so—!❞

ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL MARRIED? ❝Yeah, most def! They've never been the couple to have crazy arguments. Mother's, like, a very take it or leave it person. She doesn't play around with compromise and negotiation. Papa just wants peace. Their marriage has had some little bumps, but, like, they've stayed together.❞

NINE FACTS –

BIRTH PLACE? ❝Bangkok, Thailand! God, take me back.❞

HAIR COLOR? ❝It's black! But, I just might have another existential crisis that drives me into the arms of a nice hair salon. Might get it dyed. Might get a crazy color I've never had before. Like, you never know! Depends on how severe my mental braekdown is. Haha! I love jokes! Someone please help me.❞

EYE COLOR? ❝Brown. This particular question is always annoying. It adds nothing to the conversation, let’s move on.❞

BIRTH DAY? ❝July 21st. I'm a Cancer sun, Capricorn moon, Cancer rising, Virgo Venus, and I'm just as emotional and messy as you'd expect from that combo.❞

MOOD? ❝It's, like, super specific. You know when you're eating a box of chocolates? Like, um. The ones you get on V-Day? Like that? They have all the flavors in them. Well, I've eaten all the flavors that I like. Now, I'm begrudgingly eating the ones that are left. I kind of don't like them. At all. But, they're candies. They're enjoyable because they're candies, even though they don't spark any joy. The candy isn't my favorite. I'm not thrilled. They fill me up, though. It's like that. Also, I want a hug.❞

GENDER? ❝Stressed.❞

SUMMER OR WINTER? ❝Summer, I mean... You know what's good about freezing? Nothing. You go outside, your ass turns into ice and falls off.❞

MORNING OR AFTERNOON? ❝Afternoon. At least I know that I'm gonna, like, be going home. Having a nice dinner. Petting my cat.❞

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ? –

ARE YOU IN LOVE?

♫  ❝  What is love? Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, anymore. ❞  ♫

DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? ❝Absolutely not. What do I look like? A fool? What if I spot some guy, think he's my true love, invite him to lunch, and he's a total dick-weasel? What if our politics don't line up? What if he doesn't like shopping at Trader Joe's? What if he's a total bore? I have standards. I don't do gamble. You have to go through five background checks, fifteen tests, and prove yourself worthy and not a total snooze before I even consider you worth the time it takes for me to put on some eyeshadow for a date. I know I’m no prize, but I’m entertaining. I know that. You better get with the wave and vibe, ‘cause that’s what I’m judging.❞

WHO ENDED YOUR LAST RELATIONSHIP? ❝I did. I ran away. Literally. I’d rather not get into details, thanks.❞

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART? ❝I don’t think so?❞

ARE YOU AFRAID OF COMMITMENTS? ❝I don't think I'm afraid of commitment. I'm afraid of my own feelings, though. Like, you feel me? I get kind of HHGHGHHHHHHNNNN when I figure out I have a flame for someone. I always expect rejection.❞

HAVE YOU HUGGED SOMEONE WITHIN THE LAST WEEK? ❝My students! Down at the studio. I've hugged some of my patients, too. Sweet kids, I love them.❞

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A SECRET ADMIRER? ❝Imagine having bad taste.❞

HAVE YOU EVER BROKEN YOUR OWN HEART? ❝When I tell myself no churros for the day? Hell yeah.❞

SIX CHOICES –

LOVE OR LUST? ❝I like them both! There's room for everybody.❞

LEMONADE OR ICED TEA? ❝Neither, please pass me a mango smoothie.❞

CATS OR DOGS? ❝You will NEVER make me choose between cats or dogs.❞

A FEW BEST FRIENDS OR MANY REGULAR FRIENDS? "Can I just get more than one friend? That’d be nice enough for me.”

A WILD NIGHT OUT OR ROMANTIC NIGHT IN? "I would love either but I don’t think either is gonna happen soon.”

DAY OR NIGHT? "Day ‘cause at night is usually when crime happens and I’d rather be sleeping, let’s be real.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS –

BEEN CAUGHT SNEAKING OUT? ❝Sneaking out to have weird dance parties under bridges? Yeah, I have. My parents couldn't stop me, I was that goth kid that just needed to be free.❞

FALLEN DOWN/UP THE STAIRS? ❝SO many times? The stairs at the university really are out for blood. My blood. It's cool!❞

WANTED SOMETHING/SOMEONE SO BADLY IT HURT? ❝I want to get married to Kazuki Kitamura and I'm still not married to him? It hurts. I just want to marry him. He got divorced a few years ago, I know he's probably still looking for his true love. That would be me.❞

WANTED TO DISAPPEAR? ❝Disappearing to go marry Kazuki Kitamura! On a private island! Ah, yeah. Like, it’d be a bomb wedding. You’re all invited.❞

FOUR PREFERENCES –

SMILE OR EYES? ❝I love a cute smile. Smiles express joy and I think that’s lovely, yeah?❞

SHORTER OR TALLER? ❝Every Man Is Taller Than Me. That’s fine! The taller he is, the... Hotter.❞

INTELLIGENCE OR ATTRACTION? ❝Why not both?❞

HOOK-UP OR RELATIONSHIP? ❝There’s room for both of these options, why would I limit myself?❞

FAMILY –

DO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY GET ALONG? ❝Yeah! My family is huge, we all love each other. I’d sat my family is about as loving as it gets. We have our problems, but that’s normal.❞

WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE A “MESSED UP LIFE”? ❝I have some emotional problems. Externally, though? I’m fine.❞

HAVE YOU EVER RAN AWAY FROM HOME? ❝I’ve never been given a reason to do that. Except to go find Kazuki Kitamura and I really love him and—❞

HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN KICKED OUT? ❝Nope! I’ve never gone through that, thankfully.❞

FRIENDS –

DO YOU SECRETLY HATE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS? ❝Fuck Sigma Klim.❞ @notevenjupiter

DO YOU CONSIDER ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS TO BE GOOD FRIENDS? ❝Of course. I don’t half-ass friendships.❞

WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? ❝Tida, Yuna, Nooj. He’s incredible and brings out the worst in me!❞  @sharkapologlst​ @ofbesaid​ @endsought​

WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU? ❝Tida, Yuna, and Nooj. Once again. I love all of them! They could control my life, if they wanted.❞

[2016-17creativewriting-blog]

I’ve been dreaming weird.

I can’t hear you, the cicadas are so loud.

Wind twisting the trees,

blowing through the open window and scattering my papers

across the floor,

around the house. The lighting bugs showing off, love.

Next to this river before a storm.

The stars in their hiding places

the morning pushing away the night, upstream

the unforgiven are pure didn’t mean much

didn’t mean you. Either the dew didn’t set

last night or the sun pulled it up before we woke.

Blank skies away in their own minds,

walking down the street.

They didn’t see you there, or worse,

not walking, not looking.

The river’s dam has been porous since

back when the dam didn’t do much and the river was high

like the times my dad talks about, when he was a kid and the old

man told my dad of when the river was higher even before then,

when the old man himself was a kid.

Old man, how did you die? They said you went

night fishing and the boat got away. You jumped in and drowned.

My grandfather fished for silversides on this river.

He said they found an old river boat floating downstream.

They kept it tied up and built a dock around it. Then the river

froze one winter and that spring it washed away.

Comparing water to past

shoes to strangers

landscape and time

weather and others

spiritual autobiography

short history of my time

Short history of time

landscape was never the subject matter

language was the subject, God.

You’re walking in the water and down the street

Your pants rolled up, your hair shorter

That old church in roan mountain,

Someone shot one of the men singing.

I don’t know why, it was back in the time of riding horses.

On the radio,

why does medication hurt this kind of hurt?

He said he stole all the rhinestones out of Carolina

Don’t look back. Turn the channel.

I lost myself in the corn field and yelled my way out.

The moonshine in the evening rising moon

circle my uninvited.

Hotel in the desert.

Strange dream.

Floating down the canals of cities I have never seen,

boats floating, for no apparent reason, just to say they can.

Water sloshing up the walls. Girls that sit and watch

from the boats and from the streets, their lizard boots,

black jeans with slits cut in the knees,

How to not find someone in this?

There was plenty to chase after, but not for you.

Stealing the evening from time once in our life,

while I spent half the summer looking for shoes.

Someone asked me if they should cut their hair and I don’t

know it’s just boring how all girls look the same.

Don’t be mean to yourself

came from the meanest one,

even worse to herself.

Blue, white morning

waiting for me now alone in the subtle way

people leave you in your sleep.

Mexico must be made for us to hide.

My mind keeps running over in a rusted pickup truck,

sun at noon drying me out.

Blue mist coming up after the sun

river disappearing in the summer

snapping turtles laying on the grass

shooting down when they see me coming out the other side.

That box of things you kept

with a name in it. I figured,

you wanted to be remembered.

I don’t know the fun in that.

Do I understand?

Car driving away from my self

I can’t be my own back seat driver,

with nothing to trade.

Dry south wind blowing in my face and through the long dead grass on this mountain

the sun coming down at the end of a picture book

I’ve been scratching against this paper the way a dog licks

water out of a bucket, or more like, the way a trout

rises to the surface, and lifts it’s upperhalf out of the water.

Nothing to trade with and little nothing at that.

Mad fingers in a haunted house on a bloody fret broad

sunset loser with a sensitizer

Pack up my laugh like drug I can’t stop.

All the sudden,

I don’t want it anymore.

I don’t feel like wearing shoes today.

All the sudden, the night is slipping into the morning

I packed my shades to leave.

Upper corner of the book with the theme standing on the roof

looking down through my hair

darkness after the evening redness in the west.

Black and white theaters

selmer glowing light flashing in my mind.

Slow tremolo.

Nashville cooking my mind. Summer heating the mornings

quicker as the leaves turn strange.

I think you’re more ready than anyone.

I think you’ll greet the end of the world like an old friend and hug his neck.

I think you’ll see him and if not,

you’ll die anyway.

Robbers stealing the night away like all my Beatles records I needed.

Not cool man, not cool.

I’d kick those kids in the neck,

if they didn’t exit so quickly any way.

Soundless and effortless, or at first, but not afterward maybe.

No, definite, like tying down a boat and losing your watch.

Signals.

The world I’ve been sitting in silence wasting

I wanted time to move slower

Rubber Soul tripping up my stairs

lost in Los Feliz with some kid, standing for double meanings.

When will you come back, again in the night for me to hug your neck like death on a train?

Love in strobe light black light. Nobody else came close.

I’m taking a nap for once in my life,

hang up the phone, pull your cover up tight.

Mascara in the rain—

margarita like lemonade.

Shaggy happenings.

Rain sleeping through the day and then coming to me in the night.

With umbrellas we went out in the mud and jumped off the ledges

dark cameras with no moonlight and no alibi.

What’s coming to me,

you or the rain?

Get in my truck and we’ll drive out to lost crystal canyons.

You were lost and I was chasing my own imagery,

where I found out where you got off,

now, do you wish you were lost, question-mark.

All my stunts still look like someone else anymore.

I got an apple watch and some Jack Daniels.

Looking out the window my neighbor

running the trash down the driveway, the legs of her pajamas

tucked in her shoes, hair in her mouth.

Walking to the tennis courts,

someone ran over a rattle snake,

tiny massasauga eyes looking up at me.

Sistrurus Cartnnatus Edwardsii

we’re just making it worse.

Fashion keeps biting its tail, because it tastes good.

What is Boxing Day? The day after Christmas,

good to know.

I’ve got itchy bones and I’m going to New York.

I’ve been told they’ve got something in the air,

intangible and sparky that makes October sunshine a little less or a little later.

The way the Tennessee river has something hotter than the same thing here,

a difference in dialect or handwriting.

Putting on makeup in the dark.

You’re not coming back again

standing all alone in the corner with his antennas up.

Mister I want to disappear like you.

I’m not paying taxes and I’m not talking anymore.

I’ve been dreaming to an Ex-Beatle album,

waking, hanging off the bed by 5 AM.

Funny smile running through my telegram

Break your feet heels.

Everything I’ve started, I’ve not liked

                                 I’ve stopped

I’ve got some aces up my sleeve.

Not waving, drowning.

Presentation of fashion and comp. of words.

Laying on your cot, but no train whistles and you’re not alone.

Is she going to impress me, art?

God or the measure of yourself by self infliction?

God. Everytime.

Tie my shoes.

I keep forgetting it’s Halloween-

         make noises.

Walking in the dark with too much grace,

us fools on parabellum,

reading Frankenstein commentary in the dark.

Someone rolled toilet paper around my truck.

I think it was Haden McMillan.

Tapping on my desk.

Snapping my fingers. Slow.

Looking out my least favorite window.

2nd grade I looked at my least favorite face for about 7 hours a day.

What satisfaction, what hot bowl of ice cream,

freezing just in time,

do people get from cutting the grass

growing from their dirt?

Third party insight … I guess.

Sprouting seeds wanting only an inch or two, but I look down and feel the half inch or quarter

between my toes. Yes … I would guess.

It is good.

I keep cutting my face in the shower, shaving.

If I didn’t shave in the shower I wouldn’t.

I saw a man wearing lipstick. No vanity.

Daylight savings and smoke this fall.

It rained Tuesday night and I woke with leaves on my windshield,

But the fires started again on Friday, on Holston Mountain and the smoke got worst on Sunday

night. It’s been so hot tomatoes grew until November.

Playing on the floor with your wheelchair in your mouth

says the one in muddy boots

Sleight of hand keep me guessing

there is something against the protagonist

off the streets

up in an apartment for the right lady to wander her way around.

World War II in photographs,

aesthetics of the dark, there’s nothing to lose when you can’t see

what you’re stumbling around.

The right eyes in the right place.

middle part girl with a diamond shaped face.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled

you’re here, but I’m a little lost

I’m, doing it and I still don’t understand.

It could change at any moment, but I don’t like thinking that.

I could run around, but instead

I sit at home and read the dictionary in the dark and change up my hair

She plays guitar with her left hand in aching pain.

Strip off your heels and put on your avocado mask.

I had a nightmare last night

you were in the paper again.

It sounds like a dirty chord in the minor bond girl’s Christmas song

Your mother’s a fish.

><(((“>

Guitar solo, you drink too much

Makes him drink just the same

Yabba dabba doo

I know the weather in heaven. To bed, early, with no dessert.

That’s what it’s like.

Making fun of the dead in all our free time.

I don’t want to live in a city and I don’t want to work.

Oh lord, how the evening falling,

the world standing still, watching a finger turning the lights

Low, just low enough to see, two eyes looking down on me.

White teeth grin, extra teeth.

I’m not enjoying the street lights so far,

when it should be dark, at least outside.

I want to be able to use a telescope.

That should be a measurement in find the luminance of darkness.

Enough lux for a telescope to function-

when buying a house one should take this into account.

I keep finding myself standing in corners,

Around the house, or in an unfamiliar room,

I’ll find myself there. And if there is some obscure corner in the space of all your things,

I’ll be there in your clutter of corner objects, if you’re looking, or if,

You find me, by chance alone.

Upside down, in your closet, I scratched my name into your wall.

I feel tall when I see you in there. And the only mark

I’ve made in this world was stretching my shirt and the construction of a gazebo

that has yet to be built, but all the elephants are sitting around, waiting.

I read a book of poetry by an old painter’s

widow, which broke my soul and left me

shaking in my skeleton.

How conviction came to be in a used book sale,

I decided was the result of the death of the previous

owner, which I’ve concluded must happen to us all, and certainly me.

I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen,

Don’t call me. I hate you.

That’s funny.

What’s funny?

That’s sad.

What’s sad?

                                             The French

                                             Rock and roll

                                             Genius

Moved from Paris to L.A.

That’s not sad, that’s funny.

What’s funny?

The French rock and roll genius moved to L.A.

I’ve got something sad to make me

lie in the floor and form sentences that don’t end with punctuation, but run

on in the space around my head and hang there.

The washouts that think they’ve discovered a new sadness.

Rain forests, and the shortness of time.

I’m waiting for them to have something real to think,

I’ll have it all figured.

I’m a step ahead.

I’m across the river,

(8>/–< in my flying saucer.

I’ve laid on the floor for three weeks and now

I’m ready to wrestle an alligator.

Show your teeth and put your lippy on.

Hoffner guitars and slimy pizza,

I’m going to use the edge of my hand, cut out what I

don’t like looking at. What’s in my head that I don’t love?

Every spring my dad watched the trees fill up the top of Beck Mountain,

from the road, just a few inches of the top divisor between the sky and the new green leaves.

he took one or two added to mean summer is here and planted tomatoes, but he

doesn’t do that anymore.

He doesn’t look for the trees, he just knows when it’s ready, and time to plant.

Dodging bullets,

your rapid fire questionnaire.

I’ve been caught,

what a slippery slide guitar,

I knew there would be music but I had no idea the rhythm.

I knew you’d take me by surprise but you cheated the cards and still lost.

Looking from behind the eyes of a painting in a haunted house at the lounge

lizard holding onto the dark iced scotch,

Mister Goodnight behind the black and white telecaster,

howling at the moon from the bathtub to the bar.

Make sure you ain’t got a tail and you don’t look like a ghost.

Organ Halloween

something spooky in my rear view mirror.

Long finger nails, the little flames and sparky girls.

Pattie Boyd.

fingermonkey.

Grace Kelly.

Alexa Chung.

Preextinguishing the celestial bodies and flicking the cigarette out early.

Spitting at the camera. Old film—as long as I keep gravity downhill,

I’ll find something to write about.

As long as I keep inertia far away, I can find a girl.

I think so.

By the end of the novel I consider the antagonist to be immoral.

Summer again, hanging things out

mixing our potion under moonlight again.

Blonde and shirtless

fuzz French thin toast

18” Paiste 505 chaos and confusion

I’m the aviator, the fully qualified survivor.

My parents are arguing over a dog’s smile.

I’ve got sand in my hair and you’re in a movie star trance,

making noises in your sleep in the passenger seat,

you have no idea how much I drink in my sleep.

I wrote a letter in the desert

that I’m not going to send until Christmas

If you go to jail, I won’t bail you out, but I’ll come visit,

          I’ve got a hole in my pocket.

I’ve got some money hiding in the lining of my jacket.

I’m going to spend everything on deeply superficial

               put the queen out of power.

I’m turning into a natural actor

waking up in places different to those which I’ve fallen asleep to, and these strange sitcom scenarios

in which I play the part so well,

have no meaning at all and feels like a script you’d rather read than watch.

[elektricangel]

I don’t really interact with my followers enough, but I really appreciate you guys, so here’s a little about me if you want to know.

I was tagged to do this by my dear friend/co-conspirator/symbiotic flatmate @perfectchekov​. I don’t really feel comfortable tagging people in these things, though, so I invite any of you who see this to do it if you want to!

Rules: Complete the survey and say who tagged you in the beginning. When you’re finished, tag people to do this survey. Have fun and enjoy! [though if you don’t want to finish it that’s fine, no worries]

1. Are you named after someone?

Two people, actually. Miranda from The Tempest, and Miranda my mom’s high school enemy who stole her boyfriend then dumped him in the one of the most devastating ways imaginable. 

2. When was the last time you cried?

I think when I was stressed out over finals last term.

3. Do you like your handwriting?

I’ve come around to it as I’ve developed a bit of a style. It’s serviceable at least. 

4. What is your favourite lunch meat?

Probably a good roast beef.

5. Do you have kids?

God no.

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you?

I think so (we’d share all the same interests!), although I’d probably be difficult to be friends with, since I err on the side of being rather withdrawn and difficult to talk to. I therefore like being friends with people who are easy to talk to, because that makes things easier for me. 

7. Do you use sarcasm?

When the occasion calls for it. I always enjoy well-employed sarcasm. 

8. Do you still have your tonsils?

Indeed I do.

9. Would you bungee jump?

On those little kiddie bungee jump/trampoline things at carnivals, sure. But no flips. And definitely not off a bridge or anything. I am no thrill-seeker. 

10. What is your favourite kind of cereal?

I don’t really like cereal...

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Uh, yes? Do people not do that? How do you get your shoes off? 

12. Do you think you’re a strong person?

Emotionally, probably. In that I can withstand a lot. But I tend not to stand up for things, because I don’t let them bother me. 

13. What is your favourite ice cream? Ever, ever?

I cannot choose. I like most weird flavors. 

14. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Beyond appearance, I really don’t know. I suppose I try to evaluate what kind of person someone is based on their fashion.

15. What is the least favourite physical thing you like about yourself?

I’ve got the most frustrating cowlick ever. One time I was trying to straighten it out and accidentally singed a portion of my bangs.

16. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing now?

Blue jeans, no shoes. (I was wearing black boots.)

17. What are you listening to right now?

One OK Rock, courtesy of @perfectchekov​.

18. If you were a crayon, what colour would you be?

Aw man, I used to know all my fancy Crayon colors, but I’ve forgotten most of them. I’ve never been able to choose between colors anyway, though. (You may be noticing a general pattern of indecision here.)

19. Favourite smell?

I think I’d have to go with moss, ferns and wet earth. You know, that smell when you’re hiking through a misty forest.

20. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

My parents. 

21. Favourite sport to watch?

I hate sports. I don’t watch them. If I had to pick, though, I’d go with fencing, tennis, equestrian or hockey.

22. Hair colour?

Dark brown.

23. Eye colour?

Hazel.

25. Favourite food to eat?

Again, I’ve never been able to pick a favorite food. I love pies (almost all sorts, sweet & savory), dumplings, dim sum, Thai and avocados.

26. Scary movies or comedy?

I’m not a huge fan of pure examples of either (though I enjoy both well enough). I prefer elements of horror and/or comedy integrated into more interesting narratives.

27. Last movie you watched?

I think it was The Lego Batman Movie.

28. What colour of shirt are you wearing?

Red.

29. Summer or winter?

Winter.

30. Hugs or kisses?

Kisses.

31. What book are you currently reading?

Something More Than Night by Ian Tregillis.

32. Who do you miss right now?

My parents and my cats. Also some of my friends from home. And from school. (I’m studying abroad right now, so I sort of miss a lot of people, but at the same time, I’m not really prone to missing people at all. I love a lot of the people in my life, I just tend not to miss them when we’re apart, because I know we’ll see each other again and pick up where we left off. Also I really like being alone and, as an introvert, I appreciate the lull in social activity.)

33. What is on your mouse pad?

I don’t have a mouse pad, or a mouse. I’m a laptop person.

34. What is the last TV program you watched?

The Young Pope.

35. What is the best sound?

I’m probably gonna have to go with good music. Although kitten meows come in a close second.

36. Rolling Stones or The Beatles?

I’m not a huge fan of either, but I’d probably go with the Stones.

37. What is the furthest you have ever travelled?

Australia & New Zealand (I live in the US).

38. Do you have a special talent?

I fancy myself a pretty good writer, but I’m not sure if that’d be considered “special” or not. I’ve got about 70 digits of Pi memorized (I used to have over 90 digits memorized). 

39. Where were you born?

San Francisco, CA.

[animabenevolus-a]

He excitedly greets his father at the door as he takes his shoes off at the door. “Look what I found in the garden!” he says, holding up the tiny lizard he held in his hands. “Nee-chan says I can keep it! Can I really??”

@txnatiuh​

[starfrckled-a]

CONT  /  &  @misbehavc  (  heidi.  )

   « WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS, Heidi? Bullying people is mean. »   mock offense clear, voice and curve of his lips dripping with it. It takes two to play a game and Demetri is always a willing partner when it comes to her, always ready to provide a challenge. Instead of trying to free himself from her grasp  —  he is rather fond of this shirt, a pretty navy blue  —  Demetri steps closer and brings both of his hands to Heidi's sides. it could almost like they are dancing, now, with no music to guide their movements, and yet a well known rhythm between them makes this seem practiced, a show for invisible eyes.

   « I like my beautiful head just where it is and I am sure quite a lot of people would agree  ——  wouldn’t you? »

[leofemt]

seasons; romance

A year of shibakimi romance. Moods are dictated by the weather, sometimes.

NOTE: this is dumb. written to the song romance by cheeze. maybe give it a listen while you read. it'll help set the tone.

on ao3.

act i: summer

Cicadas.

The air is warm, slightly humid, sticking to everything it touches. Streetlamps buzz in tune with the insect songs, lights flickering down damp-feeling alleys, and the sky is purple-blue, like a galaxy of a bruise.

Sweat drips down Kimishita's nose.

He dribbles the soccer ball between his feet again, footwork light, quick, and pops it in the air to catch it again with the top of his foot. His control is impeccable, he knows, but he doesn't stop. His tank top sticks to the wetness across his shoulders and in the small of his back.

"Kimishita."

A voice.

Not one out of place- the other player does have reason to be around here, especially during summer break, but the fact that he's been in the same area, seen Kimishita, and deigned to come over and talk to him makes him look around and up, eyes narrowed.

"Kiichi." He says, the same measured, even tone.

Ooshiba stops in front of him, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He's sweating a little, dampness collecting at his temples and flushing his cheeks. They watch each other in silence for a moment, neither willing to test the waters first.

The cicadas keep humming, a patterned, monotone buzz.

"What?" Kimishita finally starts again, beginning to get irritated. "Did you come up to me just to stare?"

Ooshiba's head turns, just a tiny fraction but Kimishita's known him for years, can read him like a book. He's always so easy to read, as though he's emitting his feelings on the same wavelength as those cicada's chirpings.

"Want to play?" He asks, looking Kimishita back in the eye, glancing at the ball trapped under his foot.

Kimishita processes.

"...play." He says, eyebrows tensing just a fraction. "With me."

Ooshiba doesn't blush. He sticks his nose in the air.

"It's almost dark." He replies, and Kimishita restrains the urge to respond sarcastically. "You shouldn't be playing too late, anyways."

Kimishita almost smiles.

"What's brought this on?" He asks, shifting but never letting his gaze waver.

Ooshiba stares at him, hands still in his pockets. His shorts are green, and his shirt is white, a stark contrast to the dim, muted shadows of the street behind him.

"I need a vice captain." He answers, finally, meeting Kimishita's honest inquiry head on with an honest answer. He doesn't say anything about it having to be him, but Kimishita understands, and drops his head to hide his chuckle.

Ooshiba frowns down at the unusual display- concerned? upset at being taken lightly? childish?- but Kimishita looks back up, letting his grin creep a little bit of the way back up his face.

"Fine." He challenges, kicking the ball over to Ooshiba, who stops it with his foot. "If you can keep up, Kiichi."

Ooshiba almost smirks back.

act ii: fall

Fall brings color.

The best kind of autumn day- the leaves light, crisp, and the air is cool against exposed skin. Ooshiba straighens his collar and glances at the pink tips of his fingers.

Kimishita is waiting for him outside the entrance to the school.

"Took you long enough." He sighs when Ooshiba draws within hearing distance, watching his face with examination-table eyes. "Was it difficult, coming to school without your driver?"

Ooshiba grits his teeth, because this guy knows how to get him riled up sometimes, but pushes it back down, no matter how much he wants to crease the crisply pressed front of Kimshita's uniform with his fingers. He smooths his palm against his slacks instead.

"Funny." He replies instead, watching Kimishita from the corner of his eye, starting down the walk that leaves . "You should be careful, the underclassmen won't be scared of you if you keep being so funny."

Sarcasm drips off his words, but they're quickly crisped by the cool air and flutter away like brightly colored leaves.

"They'll be scared of me." Kimishita scoffs, as though he can't imagine anything different. Their footsteps carry through the air more clearly than usual. Ooshiba's hand twitches, as though beginning a motion, even though he hasn't thought of one to make.

There's a tone to his voice, though, that makes Ooshiba's breath stop in his chest- something like hunger. Kimishita wants to win. Kimishita... wants to win.

Of course Kimishita wants to win.

"We're going to win." Ooshiba says.

act iii: winter

Kimishita shivers.

It's freezing. He can see his breath hang in the air when he exhales. Black ice is slick and slippery in patches on the ground, glinting in the light from nearby streetlamps. He and Ooshiba are seated on a bench in a bus stop, waiting for for the next arrival. Snow is falling from the grey-black sky outside, and it's in Kimishita's hair and scarf, delicate specks of white that catch the light and melt warmly.

Ooshiba glances over at him.

"Cold?" He asks.

"No shit." Kimishita grumbles, sticking his hands in his pockets. Ooshiba exhales, watches the water vapor dissolve into the air above him, and shrugs the shoulders of his jacket to give him enough margin to wrap his arm around Kimishita's shoulders.

The other boy looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"What are you doing?" He asks, looking less angry, like he might have two months ago, and more- taken aback, confused, a tint of suspicious.

Ooshiba feels blood rise to his cheeks but doesn't pull away. He doesn't respond, either, and after a moment, Kimishita leans slightly into him, and stops shivering.

"You should have brought a thicker coat." Ooshiba murmurs, breath gusting out of him to warm the air around him by the smallest fraction of a degree, and Kimishita sighs and sinks deeper into his coat.

"I don't need one." He mumbles. "Didn't think we'd miss the bus."

Ooshiba snickers.

"You know-it-all." He slides his arm more comfortably in position, and Kimishita lets out the tiniest sigh. The snow is still falling outside, and his breath still hangs in the air, but somehow it feels a sliver warmer.

act iv: spring

Cherry blossoms.

Spring wind is warm, breezing through the soccer pitch, bringing with it renewed enthusiasm- Kimishita and Ooshiba stand in the middle of the field, back to back, and pink and green bloom vividly around them. The air has a tint of pollen. Every inhale sends a tiny thrill, a tiny boost in spirit and hope and the possibility of a chance, through them.

"This is our year, I guess." Kimishita smiles. It's warmer than the spring sun in the hazy sky.

Ooshiba laughs, freely.

"Yeah." He replies, pressing back the tiniest bit, to feel the other player solidly there.

There's a moment of silence, tempered only by the environment.

"Do you remember," Ooshiba starts, not glancing back, "when we first met?"

Kimishita scoffs.

"When you almost hit me with your car?" He asks. "Yeah, I remember that."

Ooshiba shakes his head, smiling.

"Nah." He says. "I saw you before that."

Kimishita does look around now- Ooshiba is staring out at the green, green expanse of land that stretches out before him, an unusual feeling of contented optimism rising in his chest.

"Eh?" Kimishita glances up at him. "Before?"

Ooshiba turns and looks at him.

"I saw you play." He confesses, something warm quirking his lips, and it's strange that he looks so composed. Maybe it's the reality of being third-years settling in. "On the field, before the first practice."

Kimishita blinks, and chuckes incredulously.

"Hah." He breathes. "Figures."

Ooshiba laughs out loud, cheerfully, happily, and for a moment it's like he embodies the bright gleam of springtime- Kimishita can't look away, and doubly so when Ooshiba leans down and kisses him, nothing but joy in the act. It feels like a flood of sunlight through his bloodstream. He kisses back.

When they part, softly, he grins.

Seiseki's new team- their team- is emerging from the locker room.

"Ready?" Kimishita gestures at them, cheeks pink, smiling. It's the happiest he's been in a while.

Ooshiba exhales, giddiness springing up in him like an overflowing well.

"Ready." He affirms, watching their underclassmen from across the pitch.

act v: coda

"What are Kimishita-senpai and Ooshiba-senpai talking about?" Tsukamoto asks, shielding his eyes with his hand, pausing in his warmup stretches to peer at the aforementioned characters standing in the middle of the pitch.

Kurusu flicks him in the arm.

"Probably captain stuff." He grouses. "Keep stretching! You don't want to get hurt on the first day back, idiot!"

Kazama laughs and ruffles both boys' hair- Kurusu jumps up with an indignant squawk, running his fingers back upwards through his hair, and Tsukamoto laughs happily.

"Don't think about it too much!" Kazama grins, hair like sunshine. "It's a great day, isn't it?"

act vi: coda ii

"Taira." Mizuki tightens the laces on his cleats and stands back up. "The opponent we're facing today-"

Taira cuts him off, tying back his hair.

"I know." He says, glancing at his teammate. "He's a tough one. I heard he stole a starting position within three months."

Mizuki nods silently.

When they walk out, the grandstands cheer uproarously.

Across the field, Mizuki's attention focuses on one specifically messy head of hair.

Indou Kaoru notices, and waves.

Mizuki turns away and slips on his black gloves, preparing for the match to come.

[maskinensdans]

i wish the ground was made of ice and stars

shattered shattered shattered

like glass and skulls against the reservoirs

crack crack crack

pit for pat as the air is sucked out and back

winter stole this summer’s thrill 

and I refuse to concede that this whole thing 

is just the last wet dream of an insomniac

[thesufiwithin]

The Lazy Man's Guide To Leh Ladakh Bike trip Preparation

Trust Your Machine Guide to Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

The art of "Preparation" when it is opposed to "science" is often thrilled romantic. I do believe and think that most biker will agree on this, every biker picks up certain feelings about an individual machine, which is unique for that one individual machine and no other Machine.

The great silence of Leh Ladakh is often one floor above your Bike trip Preparation.The light at the end of the tunnel would kindly inquire something about you after your ride to Leh Ladakh.That memory we used to share gambles with lives, happiness, and even destiny itself that's what I call Leh Ladakh the Bikers Paradise.There's a dream-like feel to the place.

Leh Ladakh the land of endless discovery Leh Ladakh In geological terms for a bike trip, this is a young land, formed only a few million years ago by the buckling and folding of the earth's crust as the Indian sub- continent pushed with irresistible force against the immovable mass of Asia.It's essential shapes, inspired by these unbelievable structural developments, have been adjusted throughout the centuries by the inverse procedure of disintegration, etched into the frame we see today by wind and water. The main source of water remains the winter snowfall. Dras, Zanskar and the Suru Valley the Himalaya's northern flank get overwhelming winter; this nourishes the ice sheets whose melt water, conveyed around streams, emulates the in summer.

Leh Ladakh Altitude and Temperature

Climate: Dry cold during winter and dry hot during summer minimum -35c. May to November are the best time to go for a bike trip Leh Ladakh. Ladakh lies at altitudes ranging from about 9000 feet (2750 mts.) at Kargil to 25170 feet (7672 mts.) at Saser Kangri in the Karakoram. Thus summer temperatures rarely exceed about 27c in the shade, while in winter they may plummet to minus 20c even in Leh. Surprisingly, though, the thin air makes the heat of the sun even more intense than at lower altitudes; it is said that only in Ladakh can a man sitting in the sun with his feet in the shade experience the ill effects of sunstroke and frostbite at the same time.

Manali to Leh Ladakh distance

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

by Road is around 490Km, Leh is approachable on a state highway from Srinagar crossing high passes, the highest being Fotu-La (13, 479 feet).Leh Ladakh bike trip route map from Delhi/Chandigarh/ Manali/ Leh highway.

Note: Do Not Forget to refill petrol from Tandi which is around 120Kms away from Manali petrol pump regardless of the possibility that you had it filled at Manali as the following pump in Upshi is 320 km's away. You won't get the normal mileage from your vehicle.If in case.

Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation on Royal Enfield or Any Other

Royal Enfield is the longest continuously produced motorcycle brand in the world. Slogan:"I will go to Ladakh on my Royal Enfield once I buy it".

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation: Royal Enfield has its own beat, these bikes settle into its own kind of feeling and ride and sound, completely different from other motorcycles. It's completely a different kind of bike to ride for the Leh Ladakh. it's a Sweating drive from Delhi to Leh Ladakh via Chandighar. Mostly dry and sweaty drive due to traffic and it also depends on the time of travel but there is a good news read the Note below.

Note: Your clothes will dry if you're sweating during your ride, within minutes all the heat of the warm clothing will be drained out by the wind and after that from Chandigarh to Manali bike Drive will make you big Shivering and bracing.

Royal Enfield booklet Your Way To Successful Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation

a. Keep your Bike Manual in the case of emergency.A short Bike Manual book or booklet explaining key concepts for assembly or use your bike. Most Important thing to keep in mind before calling tech support.

b. A general troubleshooting guide containing all the technical information.

c. Royal Enfield Tool Kit.

The slung way of backpacking To Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Prepare your Backpack for long Bike Trip 1. Underwears: a fart destenchilizer that protects your jeans from skid marks.

2. Long underwears or long Inners: more important than you think will keep you warm.Old Rock music is good for you.

3. T-shirt (Dangerous when wet) check out this super dry T-shirt and Track pants, according to your travel duration: They're cheap, tough and don't show dirt.

4. Sweater That memory you used to share is good for you and a jacket for A passionate evening wants to set things right.

5.Motorcycle Gloves, Always buy Unlined leather gloves they are best because they prevent major sunburn, absorb sweat and keep your hands cool. If you're going for a short ride for an hour or two little things like this aren't important, but when you're going all day long day ride they become plenty important.

6.The act of kicking Motorcycle to kick start your Motorcycle you need a classical composition of running away. Catch it before your offers go away.

7. Rain gear: If you're a Rainiac person who absolutely loves rainy or cloudy weather. Use this

8.If you love riding your bike wherever you go use Helmet.

9)Sun Glasses:Celebrities use them to disguise themselves as normal people. Normal people use them to disguise themselves as celebrities.

10.Motorcycle Helmet Bubble Shield with Flip Adapter (Smoke) This can give you claustrophobia, use it only in the rain, which otherwise at high speed stings your face like needles.

11."Check out the new Vintage Motorcycle Goggles you should buy! They protect your eyes while making yourself appear to be rich lolz." Vintage Motorcycle Goggles with Antifog and Anticrash Squared Lenses, if you use a windshield they close you in so whats the point of going to Leh Ladakh bike trip.The wind gets behind sunglasses. Don't Buy any Plastic goggles they get scratched up and distort vision.

Personal Stuff Backpacking To Leh Ladakh bike trip preparation

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Combs: A monster toothed Plastic device used for grooming and styling hair. Modern combs are usually made of plastic, but combs have been manufactured for thousands of years from a variety of materials including metal, wood and bone. An idea welcomes spring!.

Wallet: Usually does not actually contain any money but you can buy to save some money.

Swiss Pocket Knife: Hold on  "put in the pocket" is slang for having a good thing happen to you. Only use when you need otherwise don't play around with it.

NoteBook: Something really sad, we stopped caring about Notebook, after the internet and web came along.Nowadays kids say when I can use the internet why should I note things down on the book. The notebook is a pocket-friendly friend who can keep good writing memories that could fit on a post.It may appear to be a letter at first glance, but when opened you can see that it is clearly a note. Some people use stamps to make notes.

Cross Pen: If you know how to deal with this weapon then you know what it means, The only thing on Earth mightier than the sword. The physical contact or loving moment of two people that you ship with all your heart.

Matchbox: OMG you stole Matchbox 20! The 20th matchbox, Anyone who uses a lot of matchboxes will know that it is vital to number every single one.

Flashlight: Flashlight is a case to store dead batteries. A very useful household device turned into a weapon, police beat you down with lolz.

Soap: Don't drop this at all. In your home, on a vacation, ESPECIALLY not in jail. When you pick it up, you will most likely expose your Oops. You can try these ones without getting an oops moment.

Toothbrushes and toothpaste: "Stop cleaning the toilet with your toothbrush!", Clear water is not enough to brush your teeth but needs toothpaste. quick tip toothpaste is a substance people put on their pimples to help a pimple process.

First Aid Box Kit: You don't need a professional training to use it. Use it for AIMS or small cuts or in an emergency.

Insect repellent: If you don't want to listen to Humming at night then you should use mosquito patches its made for Bloodsucking insects from hell. Mosquitos that piss people off. Only the female MOSQUITOs bite you (that doesn't mean your sexist but it's true). The males drink nectar. Humming at night and drives you mad. They always find their way in regardless.

Deodorant: Something that needs to be applied to underarm daily before the ride and once before you sleep after your shower.

Sunburn lotion: Ustraa By Happily Unmarried Sun Screen For Men, Put it Early trust me (On your bike you don't notice sunburn until you stop, and then it's too late.)

Toilet paper: substance with no significant use other than to wipe.

Washed clothes: use Disposable Garbage Bags (washed clothes can go into a plastic Disposal Garbage bag to keep other stuff from getting damp).

Towel: A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Leh Ladakh.

Books: Don't take to many books they take a lot of space if you are a Readaholic who always ignore friends in favour of reading.

Camping Equipment preparation for Bike Trip

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

1.Wildcraft Travelite Sleeping Bag: The difference between the sleeping bag and the tea bag is a tea bag is usually announced or planned where as sleeping bag is not announced or planned.

2. Ponchos: Poncho traditionally woven from wool, but now can be made from any material. It's basically a piece of cloth wrapped around the shoulders and hanging down to your waist, and it has a hole for the head in the middle. It was extremely popular in the 1970s.

3. Rope: when you are in trouble, I Hope not required to pull the bike from mud.

4. Maps: Geodetic survey maps of an area where you can do some hiking.

5. Machete: a long knife, used for hacking your way through the jungle,also the most awesome zombie killing tool ever.

6. Compass:  It requires no batteries, but demands a reasonable amount of skill to use. With a compass, you can navigate through rough country to an unseen destination. It is most useful with a topographic map.

8. Mess kits with knife, fork and Spoon:  the thing to use for digging food.

9. Sterno stove:  To spend time with nature,cooking food, leaving behind much of the technological advances and "roughing it." 

11. Brillo, for cleaning: Always clean your own bike, I believe it's the respect the bike deserves. Hire a cleaner.

12.Aluminum Frame backpacks: Backpacker is based on a fashion style popular in the mid to late 90s where people involved in hip-hop wore large backpacks. Originated by graf writers who kept all their cans and nozzles in the packs, the style caught on quick with the suburbanites and rock kids who didn't want to stray too far from their style but still wanted to have a hip-hop flava.

13.Ground Mate: I think everyone's had a go with that (ground) mattress.These mates can be used in a tent and also to protect the luggage from rain while you are travelling.

Royal Enfield Tool Kit: A standard tool kit comes with the cycle and is stored under the seat. Use Emergency Royal Enfield tool kit bag. 

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});