cr-ws

[delopsia]

nosedive | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 18,900 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader. Storm chasers AU, Kate, and Tyler appear but are so inconsequential that they can be read as OC's. You do not need to watch Twisters to understand and read this fic! Arguing, brief food mentions, undisclosed past trauma, storm chasing, vehicle accidents, anxiety attacks, friends to lovers, grinding, unprotected sex, includes a sketch that I traced from stock photos I stitched together. Brief Summary: You swore off storm chasing a long time ago. You haven't been able to look at that old truck since the accident, and if you could have your way, you'd never think about that part of your life ever again. You've moved on. Every time you touch that damn truck, something goes wrong. But when your friend and her so-called business partner become wrapped up in a never-ending quarrel, it's Rhett who becomes your biggest supporter. You think you're beginning to remember why you used to love this. How you used to live for your out-of-this-world builds and ideas. Or maybe…just maybe, you're beginning to fall in love with something that isn't a truck.

"So, at what point are we going to tell them?"

"What would that be?" Speaking with the straw against your lips, seconds away from taking another sip of that cheap gas station coffee. "That I'm the one who keeps filling Rhett's truck with tiny ducks?"

"No," Kate's eyes roll, her head shaking ever so slightly, not quite ready to admit to her part in it. "About Dallas."

A gust of wind blows past. Entirely invisible to the eye, and yet you catch Kate's head following as it twists through the field, the wheat rippling in waves. Strange how something you can't even see can cause so much trouble, ripping up the garage roof, blowing Rhett's hat down the driveway, and taking that long-awaited Amazon package across the lawn.

Worse, it blows your straw around, leaving you to gape like a fish as you blindly try to find it again. "Do we even want to tell them?"

Her brow furrows. Confused.

"You can't convince me it's not entertaining to watch them puff up like a bunch of peacocks when we mention him," you can't help but giggle, memories flickering through your head like a slideshow. Rhett grumbling about Dallas under his breath. Tyler pulling up his YouTube channel to prove he's done bigger things than this Dallas guy ever could. Overhearing them griping about him in the hotel gym. "Can you imagine the look on their faces when they finally see him?"

A smile bursts onto her face. "You drive a fair point."

Something clangs to the left. Appearing so suddenly that both of your heads swivel toward it.

Speak of the devil.

Rhett and Tyler. Hauling some kind of unnamed contraption to the trucks. You're pretty sure that it's supposed to put extra weight on the chassis to prevent them from being blown around as easily. Rhett's been muttering about having to build a new one ever since his original build cracked a few days ago.

If you weren't distracted, you think you would be able to recall more of the details, but all you can focus on is...

"Are they allergic to shirts?" Kate chirps after a long moment, but she's not making any effort to peel her eyes away.

Neither are you. Too wrapped up in the way Rhett's bicep flexes as he readjusts his grip on the steel frame. Not quite as bulky as Tyler, but he's got a wiriness to him that almost seems to hypnotize you, stuck staring until you run the risk of being caught. "Are we complaining?"

"Absolutely not," and you only peel your gaze away when you realize that they're walking toward your little afternoon coffee party. You're not dealing with the misery that is Tyler's cockiness again.

Kate's got the same idea, her cheeks dusted with a subtle shade of pink that wasn't there a few seconds ago. Something flickers behind her eyes, the same kind of glint you're used to seeing when she's caught the trail of a brewing storm, but she doesn't say anything.

You wonder if this new frame means they'll focus on upgrading those drills next. Anchoring two feet into the ground was likely an impressive feat when they first installed that onto the rigs, but the technology has progressed so much further since then. Longer augers would be a start, twisting deeper into the earth, harder to be ripped out by high winds. 

"So, do you know when Dallas is coming in?" Kate asks once the boys are within earshot, like she doesn't know the answer to her own question.

Rhett's head perks. Tyler peeks over his sunglasses.

"Few more days, I think," feigning interest in your drink, swirling the straw in circles, anything to pretend that you haven't noticed them yet. "Sunday at the latest."

"Dallas!" Tyler crows. So loud and sudden that you jolt in your seat. "Finally comin' to meet us, huh?"

Rhett peeks at you through the corner of his eye, either too focused on the task at hand or not quite bold enough to match Tyler's antics. Even from a distance, it's difficult to miss the way his gaze rakes up and down your frame as if transfixed by your pajama shorts and the beauty that is your half-awake face.

"He was supposed to be here earlier, but..." motioning toward the empty beer can blowing past. Budweiser's aluminum version of a tumbleweed. "Another wind delay."

Tyler scoffs, the heel of his boot thunking against the can and sending it flying. "How many more times is he gonna use that excuse?"

"As many times as he wants," Kate's stolen the words right out of your mouth, her shoulders shrugging as she turns her attention back to her cell phone.

Wind howls in your ear, rolling the ballpoint pen across the table and right into your cup. It tips before you can even comprehend what's happening, the remnants of your coffee spilling into the dirt. 

"I reckon that's my sign to head inside," you sigh, defeated. This battle was lost the moment you quit paying attention to your drink.

There's not much for you to gather, but nature herself had might as well be interfering with your every move. Blowing the cup toward the garage, rustling your notebook pages when you scoop it up, the pen jumping off the edge of the table just to rub salt into the wound. It's not bothering anything else, not Kate's hair, not the dumb hat on Tyler's head, just your things.

Talk about a personal vendetta.

At least the garage has never betrayed you like this. Cozy and windless, albeit a bit dusty, depending on the day of the week and what project Rhett is working on. The loveseat tucked into the far right corner is much softer than that sunbleached wooden chair, the beaten cushions enveloping you in a loose hug. The thick armrest is the perfect size to fit your notebook. Doesn't have you trying to cram yourself into an itty bitty space. 

And with the back of the couch being up against the wall, there's no opportunity for someone to mosey up and peek at your notes, either. 

The side of the pen is dented, the groove creating the perfect space for your finger to settle into as you begin to draw. This must be the pen that you forgot on the roof of your car and wound up driving overtop of. 

Ink drips from the tip in spurts, scattering across the page in small, ugly blotches. What's supposed to be your delicate sketchings of an idea are starting to look more and more like an interpretive art piece in a museum. Is it a component for one of the storm vehicles, or is there an underlying message about the beauty of mistakes and brokenness?

Whatever. The answer only matters if it's attached to a big, fat check from a private collector looking to hang it next to a myriad of other, questionably produced works. 

"Whatcha ya doin' over there?" Rhett's voice echoes through the garage, seems to come from so many directions that you don't realize where he is until you spot him in your peripheral. Red dirt and grease smeared across his forearms, sweat glistening in the overhead light. You already know he doesn't smell the best, but you can't say you hate the sight of him.

Your pen drifts across the paper once more, streaking through a blob of collected ink in your efforts to build the general shape of a truck. "Sketching." 

It's such a bland reply. Shouldn't intrigue him in the slightest, and yet you can hear the soft thunk of his boots against the cement floor, drawing closer. "Sketchin' what?" 

"A fantasy for an advanced anchoring system," your pen darts across the metal arms, extending from the roof of the truck, one on the passenger side and one on the driver, anchored into the ground. "Buildable, but it's not a feasible idea." 

The light reflects off of his rodeo buckle. Amelia County's bull riding champion. "Can I see?"

You're not sure why he wants to look at your fantasy sketches, but you don't have the energy nor the will to tell him no. Certainly not when he's bending down next to you, so close that his bicep bumps into your arm, hot and swollen from hauling around that heavy frame. You're making no effort to move away, either. If anything, you're moving closer, turning the notebook for him to see.

As if to guide his thoughts, his index finger traces across the lines, grease-stained and so, so much thicker than yours. "What's makin' ya think it won't work?"

"It's not realistic." Easy answer. There's a reason why nobody else has done this. 

But Rhett's head just tilts to the side, a thought visibly crossing his mind. You know it's there; can see it glisten in his eyes as it passes by. "Yes, it is." 

You feel the tug of your arm and the warmth of his hand around your wrist before you realize that he's pulling you up from the couch. There's a creak in your knee as you rise, helplessly stumbling after him.

"What are you doing?" You're chirping, but Rhett doesn't reply, too dead set on hauling you to the other side of the room.

He spins. So do you. The garage blurs into streaks of gray.

Then your back bumps into his sweaty chest, and you're staring at...a newly built drill for the frame. 

"Does this look unrealistic to you?" His voice rumbles straight through you, low as the thunder that you've spent too much of your life chasing. 

"Well...no," you croak after a long moment, "but you already know that it—"

"What about that?" His hand darts out, pointing toward the old radar, built out of scrap material and the sheer power of will. It doesn't work anymore, not after that hunk of debris split it down the middle, but it did for a good few weeks. 

Rhett isn't waiting for you to reply, already pointing toward another contraption. The roll cage, and the rest of the steel exoskeleton frame that hasn't been welded onto Tyler's truck. Then he's guiding your attention to the windshield and window cages; lord knows those glass replacements are getting expensive. The armor plating that has yet to be welded to the vehicles, the reinforced overhead spotlights, the custom grill guards, and all of the little, unnamed crafts that you have yet to see in action.

"None of this was feasible, either," his words are solid, fleeting things, dancing around your head like words from the gods above, "but we still gave it a shot." 

A puff of air breaks past your lips. 

All of that happened long before you and Kate stumbled across them crammed into the corner of a Waffle House. Their trucks were already built. Field tested beyond belief. But...well, you suppose his ideas had to have started the same way yours do, a random thought that evolved out of control until it became a reality.

"Your ideas are no more unrealistic than these were," Rhett murmurs, and it almost sounds like he's sharing a secret. A whimsical little thought meant to stay between the two of you.

...maybe he has a point. 

You turn, twisting to face him. The tips of your noses bump. Piecing blue eyes staring right back into yours, wide as can be. Too close. Way too close. But you don't make any effort to move, and neither does he. He should. Fuck, any closer, and you'd be kissing him, can already taste his minty toothpaste on his breath. 

"Rhett!" Boone's voice arcs across the room like lightning, sends you jumping apart as if struck by it. "You fixin' to bring that upper frame or what?" 

Whatever that moment was, it's gone in an instant. 

Your head comes so close to hitting the ceiling that you can feel it graze past. Seatbelt cinching tight around your chest. Ass bouncing against the seat. Struggling to keep both your hands on the shivering plastic handle overhead. Something clatters across the floor, landing in the mess of components and contraptions that met their maker three bumps ago.

You'd complain, but Tyler's rollercoaster of a truck looks even worse than whatever the hell you just experienced. 

"I'm shocked this old truck has survived this long," you're trying to sound calm, but it comes out resembling a yelp more than anything else. "I remember you driving to high school with this thing." 

Rhett's hands flutter across the wheel, a wave of mud kicking up from under the back tires. "These ol' ranch trucks last forever if you take care of 'em."  

"Doesn't care involve things like...not driving into ditches?" Your shoulder presses against the glass, sliding around as the truck veers to the left, loosely chasing Tyler's messy trail. 

"Probably," he laughs, "but we survived, didn't we?" 

"I'm not too sure about that," frankly, you think half of your soul may still be sitting on the road, milliseconds away from experiencing the horror of Rhett's truck diving into the ditch.

"Oh, c'mon," his hand darts out, nudging your arm, "ya worry too much."

You haven't forgotten about the clouds twisting up ahead, downward spiraling, growing thinner and thinner as it nears the earth. A plume of red dirt rises, staining what was once a perfect, white funnel cloud. Wind squeals around the edges of the truck, wedging its way through the nonexistent gaps between the windows and wailing in your ear. 

Tyler's truck rips straight into the center, unhindered by the mud and soybean plants being hurled against it. There's already a drone dancing around the upper part of the funnel, bobbing and weaving, serves as the eyes for however many people are watching the live stream it's broadcasting. 

Rhett's a little more conservative, looping out to the side and into the path of the tornado instead. Leaves scatter across the windshield, wedging beneath the windshield wipers. But the nose of the truck turns to face the cyclone, and the wind is already beginning to tear them away. 

"Wanna press the button?" You can hardly hear him. Only realize he's talking when you notice his mouth moving.

You're already reaching out, pressing the little green button on the dash. 

The drills whir to life, entirely inaudible, but it's impossible to miss their vibration as they dig down into the soil, the truck gradually sinking lower. 

One blink and the world around you turns to dust. The little ranch truck shivers under the battering of the wind; feels like you're going to blow away at any moment, but nothing around you is moving. 

Hesitant, you peek out the passenger window up at the tornado overhead. It's almost calm. A little quieter now. The crystal sky peeks through the twirling clouds, and if you tilt your head just right, it kind of looks like one of Rhett's gentle blue eyes. 

Rhett's elbow nudges yours as you settle back into your seat. 

You know what he's going to say before he's even opened his mouth. 

"Now, is this more fun than it is with Dallas?" Always comparing your ventures together to what you've done in the past, like he's aiming to jump up to the top of your 'Best Experiences' list.

"Nah," repeating the same thing you always tell him. He should have expected this answer from a mile away. "Dal still has ya beat."

His eyes roll, but he laughs nonetheless. Defeated again. "One of these days, I'm—"

Bang.

The truck jumps. 

Something sharp scatters across your face. Wind screams in your ears. 

The world flips on its head. Upside down. Rightside up. Upside down again. It jars you so hard that your teeth snap together, head smacking against the seat, and there's something yanking against your chest, and your ears are popping and, and, and—

You should have known that was coming. 

Why didn't you know that was coming?

You don't feel the pressure on your shoulders until it's gone. Replaced with something warm that you can't identify. Can't think to try and identify where it's coming from. Something about your head doesn't feel right, but it doesn't hurt. Tickles. Like something is running down the side of it.

The truck flipped. How did the truck flip? 

Fuck.

You, from three years ago, would have seen that coming from a mile fucking away. How have you gotten worse at the one thing you're supposed to be good at? You should've checked the drills, the circuits, the wires. Why didn't you run through any of the safety checks before you left? What if the tornado had been stronger? Sucked you up and spit you out several hundred feet into the air? 

Did you not learn from the last time? 

This was entirely avoidable.

There's something muttering near you. Sounds like thunder in a strange sort of way. Deep rumbles, rolling in one ear and out the other. But thunder doesn't pause in the middle of its booming, not like this. 

"We're okay."

Your throat is so raw that you can hardly speak. Dry, too. Chest heaving, sucking in air faster than your lungs can handle it. What, what...what...

"We're okay," Rhett. That's Rhett's voice in your ear. "We're okay." 

And he keeps saying it. Over and over, like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince you. But it's not working. You're still shivering, and his voice is lodging in his throat, and...

Your head goes dark. 

You don't necessarily know if you pass out or if your memory decided to stop writing things down. 

One moment, you're in the truck, and the next, you're sitting in the middle of a hospital room, squinting as a nurse shines a blinding light directly into your eye. She hums something to the woman next to her, then turns the light off. 

There's a spot in your vision now. Dead center, lingering as you turn your head to look at whoever is sitting next to you, entirely blocking out their face. Their hand over top of yours, thumb swiping idly across your skin, back and forth in a rhythm that you haven't figured out yet.

"What failed?" You know it's your voice, can feel your mouth shaping around the words, but it sounds nothing like you. 

"Hm?" Rhett's hum nearly disappears amongst the commotion going on around you. 

"The truck," trying again, a little more specific now. "What went wrong back there?"

Stitches line his forearm, probably sliced open by the same thing that left the cuts on the left side of his cheek. Glass from the shattered windshield, you think. 

"You'll never believe this," he leans closer like he doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's about to say. "We got hit by a tree."

That doesn't... "A...tree?" Parroting him. You're expecting for him to furrow his brows and ask how in the world you've managed to mishear him, but all he does is nod. You heard him perfectly. 

All of that was because of a tree hitting the side of the truck. Probably struck hard enough to rip the drills from the ground and gave the tornado all the leverage it needed to start throwing you around like a children's toy.

...huh. 

"Hey, is there a lug wrench sittin' over there?" Rhett asks, his foot kicking out toward the tool cabinet as if to try and point you toward it. Whatever he's doing up under the truck, he must not be able to see that you're already standing in front of the damn cabinet. 

You already see them, sitting amongst the mess of tools resting on top of it. "You've got two." 

His head pokes out from the side. "I do?"

"One is silver, the other is black," lifting them both for him to see. You don't see a difference between them; they both do the same thing, but you're not the one needing them.

"Give me..." his lips purse, "the black one."

You bend down, handing the tool off to him, but the silver one is still in your other hand. "Remind me again what drawer these belong in?"

He taps the thing against his chin. "Any of the middle ones is fine." 

"And here you wonder why you can never find anything," you tease, an ache blooming in your chest as you laugh, still a bit sore from being rolled around like Mother Nature's bowling ball.

Something metal hits the floor, audibly rolling away. A bolt, you think. Rhett swears, boots squeaking as he clambers out from beneath the vehicle. "'ts hard to stay organized when ya share a garage with someone like Tyler."

"That bad?" You would look to see what he's chasing, but organizing this mess is higher on your priority list. 

There's so much junk on the top of this cabinet that you can't figure out what is what, in such a disarray that it seems to swallow up everything you sit on top of it. Somewhere in here is your ten-millimeter socket. 

Kate's voice echoes from outside, loud enough for you to hear her but not enough for you to understand her. Tyler shouts back, the slam of a truck door punctuating whatever he has to say. You think he's still talking when Kate blurts something that sounds like an "I don't care!" Tyler doesn't seem to like that at all.

You turn to look at Rhett right as he does the same. Defeat. Confusion. An overall look of being absolutely done with hearing it from them. You recognize it all; you're feeling the same damn thing. 

And here you thought you'd found a place to escape from them.

"Are those two ever gonna get together?" Rhett whines after a moment. 

Your head shakes, "Kate's got a strict 'no dating business partners' clause." 

They're getting closer now, slowly but surely carrying their argument to the garage. You're not sure why. Everyone was there when the argument started in the restaurant, gradually clearing all of you out of the booth with to-go boxes and a migraine to boot. 

Rhett reaches through the open truck window, pressing the garage door opener. With a groan, it starts to close, taking away your fresh midnight air but granting more silence in return. "Does that rule apply to you, too?"

"I'm not sure," you'd never actually...considered if you were wrapped up in that law or if it was Kate-exclusive. "Why?"

Rhett's eyes dart away. 

Have his ears been red this whole time? Or maybe it's a trick the light is playing on you because it seems to disappear as he rushes toward the side door, sliding the deadbolts into place and twisting the locks. 

There's no way that he's... "Are you seriously locking them out?" 

"Do you wanna hear them argue for another hour?" He doesn't need for you to answer that; he already knows the answer. "Get me that padlock off the table."

Padlock. Shit, where did you last see that?

There's so much on this table. Jumper cables. Tools. Tools. More tools. Bolts. A box of nails. Your missing socket. A chocolate candy wrapper. Tootsie rolls. Another box of nails. Shit, is that a broken phone case? You push your hands through the mess, shoving it all to the side, but you don't see it. Where is it? Where is it? 

Someone knocks on the garage door. Rattling across the garage.

Fuck, fuck, where is it? You don't see—

There it is.

You don't feel it in your grasp until you're halfway across the room. Shoving it into Rhett's open hands. The garage door rattles. But Rhett's shoving the hook through a hole in the tracks, squeezing it closed until it clicks. 

"Are y'all in there?" Tyler's muffled voice is the last thing you want to hear. 

Something moves in the window. 

Your body moves on its own. Grabbing Rhett by the bicep. Diving toward the couch. 

He's too big to be tumbling after you, but he does, the loveseat squealing as he lands on top of you. An elbow finds its way into your ribs. Your knee slots between his thighs. His hair is in your face, and you can smell the vanilla of his cologne, and his hand is on your waist—

"Rhett?" Tyler tries again. Knuckles tap at the window. 

You know they can't see you. If they could, then they would be calling you out on it. 

This couch isn't wide enough for you and Rhett to be lying on it like this, your shoulder hanging off the edge, his knees awkwardly bent to make room for your legs. He's finding a way to make it work, though. Wedging himself up against the back cushion, granting you enough room to roll onto your side without falling off. 

You're not sure if you want to comment on the arm that drapes around your waist, securing you to him. 

"I entirely forgot about the window," he whispers. Does he think Tyler can hear him talking from outside? 

Laughing, you tap him on the nose. "I know you did." 

So much of his hair has fallen into his face that you can no longer see his expression, concealed under a mass of unruly, brunette curls, untamable by any means of the word. He can very well push it out of the way himself, but for some reason, you find that your hand is beginning to do that for him. Collecting locks of it with your fingers, sorting them to their respective sides, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

"Watcha doin'?" He asks as you unveil his hidden eye. It looks bluer than it was before.

Your touch falters. "I wanted to see your face." 

"Yeah?" The corner of his lip lifts a little. 

"Yeah." Nodding. 

And your hand just...falls onto his cheek. Idly resting there, like this is exactly where it belongs, where it's always gone after you've finished fixing his hair. 

Worse. He doesn't make any effort to stop you, lets your thumb swipe up and down his skin, meandering across the tiny cuts that linger there. If you didn't know any better, you would think he nicked himself while shaving, but there are far too many of them for that. Too high, too. There's even one up beside the corner of his eye.

"No!" Even the garage door isn't enough to muffle Kate's voice. "We're not doing that, Tyler!"

Tyler isn't quite as loud. You can hear the general sound of his voice, carrying through a sentence or two, but you can't make out a single word. 

"Because—because it's ridiculous," Kate's still going. Tyler says something a bit louder.

You don't know when Rhett started moving, but all of a sudden, you're way too aware of how close his face is getting. Inching closer and closer until...

He rubs his nose against yours. Slow little motions that don't stop until you can no longer fight off your smile.

"What're you doing?" You giggle, making no real effort to stop him. 

He's too close for you to see his mouth, but you recognize the way that the corners of his eyes turn upward with his grin. "Distractin' ya." 

It must be working because you no longer have the capacity to think about what's going on in the driveway. His hand smooths up your back, making its way up to your face, and he's so warm, heat radiating off his palm like he's got a small fire burning in his veins. Rough fingertips brush against your cheek, hesitant to make any solid contact. 

"Your cheek is still swollen," his palm gradually comes to flatten against your cheek, his hand so big that it seems to cover your entire face. 

Kate's voice echoes in the back of your head. No dating business partners. But something about his touch...it's addicting. "Well, that's what happens when you get thrown around by a tornado." 

He doesn't seem to have much else to say to that. 

To be fair, you don't know what you would say to that, either. 

His thumb swipes across the upper portion of your cheek. Your fingers find their way down to his jaw, pushing through the stubble there. It's soft, has had time to lose the stiffness that comes with being recently shaved. 

It seems that you may have finally lost Kate and Tyler; you don't hear them bickering outside, at least. You lift your head, craning to look over the arm of the couch and at the door. The window is impossible to see from this angle, but you get the feeling that they're no longer standing outside. 

"What's that?" You ask, nodding toward something that you know he can't see.

Rhett's fingers trace their way over to the shell of your ear, not interested in trying to look at what you're asking him about. "Hm?"

"The little contraption sitting next to the door," clarifying, "it looks like a bunch of pipes welded together."

"Oh, that's...supposed to be a tree to hold a bunch of different instruments," he tilts his head back a little, realizes he can't see anything without sitting up, then immediately lets himself fall back against the couch. "I can get everythin' on it, but I can't get it to stay on."

"Industrial glue and steel hose clamps." You have to pause for a moment, sifting through dusty memories, trying to recall how you used to protect Kate's old contraptions. "Maybe build a thin cage around it in case those two things fail."

Rhett's quiet again, his brows knitting together. 

Is he confused, or is he just thinking about what you said? 

It takes him some time to find his words, half-built sentences flickering behind his eyes. You can practically hear the gears turning up in his head. And then, hestiant, his lips part. "I feel like you know a lot more 'bout storm chasin' than you let on."

Something in your lower belly twists. "What's telling you that?"

"You're confident when you're in here," he doesn't need any more time to think on this, his thoughts flowing off his tongue like a waterfall, "most of the folks who walk in here don't have the slightest clue what we're building, but you recognize almost all of it." 

Your eyes dart away, looking down at your intertwined legs, bent and crammed onto this tiny little couch. His fingers curl around your jaw, gently guiding you to look him in the eye.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, you don't fight him on it. 

"You draw up some of the coolest concepts I've ever seen, you...you..." the corner of his lip wobbles up and down. The sight of it makes your head feel funny. "Shit, you make me feel like I'm not the only person here who knows how to do this kind of stuff." 

You suppose you should have expected this. It takes one to know one, and you haven't done yourself any favors by always working with him in this dingy old garage. But you don't entirely know how to respond to that or where you should even start...

"I used to work on an old storm truck that Kate and I owned," it comes out so easily that it almost surprises you, "but that was...god, that was forever ago."

Rhett's eyelashes flutter, his head tilting like that of a curious puppy. "Why'd you never tell me?" 

Shattered glass. The snap of hydraulics splitting in half. Blood blurring your vision. Ear-splitting howling. The world flipping on its head. Rain in your eyes. Steel digging through your back. Your chest tightens. Hail pounding into your skull. The screaming. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault. 

And you're...warm. 

"'m sorry," Rhett murmurs, and you don't know when he got so close, but you can feel the vibration of his voice against your nose. A careful hand smooths up your back, another arm securing you to him, tucked up under his chin, shielded from the glaring openness of this too-big garage.

He doesn't move, and neither do you. But this time...this time, you think you know why. 

Rubber squeals against the pavement, so shrill that it soars above the roar of the engine. Your shoulder slams into the window, seat belt cinching tight as everything spins into a blur. 

"Tyler!" Kate yelps.

"Kate!" Tyler. Ever so mocking.

"You're gonna get another ticket." Her hand darts out, smacking his arm. Tyler's got something clever to say about that; you don't hear any of it. If you start listening now, you'll have a migraine before the funnel cloud touches the ground.

Rhett meets your gaze out of the corner of his eye. Telepathy must be real because you know exactly what's running through his head.

Here we go again. 

If you'd known this would start up again, then you probably would have faked an illness to stay home. A headache, an upset stomach, or a sudden onset of death that will miraculously cure itself when the storm chase ends. Anything.

Tires squeal again, the truck seeming to tip onto its front wheels. The seatbelt yanks on your shoulders, throwing you back into the seat. Rhett's phone smacks against the console. A scattering of papers, nameless weather instruments, and unlit rockets scatter across the floor. 

Wind rocks the vehicle back and forth. Squealing through the crack in the window like a kettle boiling over. Or maybe you're just hearing things because nobody else seems to hear it. Tyler's shouting into his camera. Kate's rattling something off about how the tornado is forming directly above the town you're driving through.

A wave of rain pelts the windshield. Hail pattering on the roof. Something silver flies past the nose of the truck, striking the building to your right. The brick splinters, debris falling like rain. Kate yells something. Tyler shouts back at her.

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett jumps in his seat, blindly smacking his hand on the console, looking at something you can't see, "stop the truck."

But Tyler is saying something into the CB radio, veering the truck to the right with one hand. Kate doesn't lift her head from the scanner. And they're still fucking arguing. You don't know if they even hear Rhett over the clash of their own voices, nevermind the storm.

Rhett yanks on the door handle. It peels open, rain spewing through the gap. "Ty, stop the damn truck!" 

"Rhett?" You yelp. Scrambling.  "Rhett, wait!" 

You can't stop him. 

He's jumping out of the truck before it's even stopped moving. Bricks and sheet metal hurl past. The door slams closed. You don't see where he went. Where is he? Where did he-where did he go? Why is the truck still moving—

"Stop the goddamn truck!" Screaming so loud that it doesn't even sound like you. 

The truck lurches. The seatbelt rips the air from your lungs. Taking it off is the last thing you should be doing, but it's already unclipped. Papers crunch as you scurry into Rhett's seat. Wind beats against the door. Does everything in its power to keep you from forcing it to open. You can't see a thing. Not even with the damn door halfway open.

"Where's Rhett?" 

You don't know which of them asked that. You don't care to figure that out. "If you two could stop fighting for two fucking seconds, then maybe you would know!" 

It's like someone flipped a switch. The wind and rain just...dies. There's a reason for that, a term and definition that Kate probably memorized in college, but you're not sticking around to hear it. Slipping out of the truck, you dart out into the mist. Fog already licks at your heels, so humid that it feels like you're wearing a second skin out here.

"Rhett?" Calling out. 

You don't see him. There's nothing but debris and disheveled produce stands, all the cracked open watermelons and runaway apples in the world, but no cowboy. But where did he... Turning around. Where did he get out of the truck? It was further back than this. Yeah. He must be further down the road. 

"Rhett?" You're trying again, toeing through the mess. 

There goes the rain again. Starting up so quickly that you wonder if Mother Nature accidentally pressed pause on her remote. Something carries over the rumbling thunder. Something that sounds like your name.

You hear him, but you don't see him. "Rhett?" 

"I'm over here." He's already walking toward you, must have seen you coming before you even realized where he was. The rain thickens, but you can see the rip in his shirt clear as day, blood pouring from his shoulder like the water falling from the heavens. 

"God, Rhett—don't do that!" It comes out a little too loud. A little too quick. "You can't just go hopping out moving vehicles—"

He throws his hands behind him, gesturing at something. "She needed help!" 

You hadn't seen the little old lady standing on the other side of the road until now, being helped back into the safety of an untouched house. You suppose that's who he's talking about, but... "And what if something happened to you?" 

"Nothin's gonna happen to me!" Thunder booms behind his words. Just as irritated as he is. 

Your hand flies out, gesturing to his bloody arm. "Clearly, it already did. Look at your shoulder, Rhett!" 

"God, why are you always so worried?" He spits. Doesn't hear a word you just said. 

"I don't know; maybe it's because we almost got sucked into a tornado three days ago?" You can feel your face getting hot. Teeth grit, jaw popping under the strain. "Maybe it's because I've seen storms kill people, Rhett!"

He stiffens. 

So do you. Glued in the middle of the street. Even the rain stabbing at your eyes can't make you blink. But the wind is one of those things that forces you to move—swaying sideways, shielding your gaze with an arm. A horn honks, headlights piercing through the silver veil. 

Getting back into the truck with him is the last thing you want to do. 

Gravel crunches beneath your feet. Shifting under your weight, seeming to drag you in like a thin layer of quicksand. Tiny little pebbles leap into the tops of your shoes, wriggling down through the gaps and working their way up under your foot. Walking barefoot would have been more comfortable. 

Ugh, but then you would have to worry about dodging the sharp metal hiding beneath the rocks, leftovers from experiments gone wrong, and backyard-tested explosives. 

The spare garage isn't much further up the driveway. Smaller, built to hold only one or two vehicles, depending on their size. There's no point in adding all of the extra space, not when the main garage is on the same property, fully decked out with its fancy tools, wifi, and air conditioning. 

Understandable, but you wish someone would have stopped to consider installing a light all the way out here. You can't see a damn thing this far out. Is there a bobcat standing between you and the building? Nobody knows!

There doesn't seem to be anything lurking in your path. You certainly don't feel anything brush past, even when you peel open the door and blindly feel along the inside wall, looking for the light switch. 

The grill of a truck glares back at you. Same old golden paint, still the same diamond-shaped chip beneath the left headlight. The dust is new, and yet, somehow, it's the same too. Exactly how it's always been.

And how it will stay if you can help it. 

It's a beautiful truck, really. Only one previous owner, still relatively new, decorated in gadgets that you've long since forgotten the specifics of. It's got everything. A roll cage. Bulletproof glass. Window cages. Augers hang on either side of the vehicle, in combination with the overhead arms, and those are only the things you remember installing.

There's a wire sticking out of the cables for the drills, has inexplicably wriggled its way out of the covering. That's what you get for choosing the cheapest company to haul this piece of junk all the way out here. You don't want to touch it, but...it's a simple fix. You've just got to slide this strip of metal up and—

Sparks scatter. A shock bolts through your fingers.

"You mother—mmh!" Yelping. Yanking your hand back. A twitch runs up your arm, the muscles in your hand shivering. 

And here you wonder why you quit messing with this goddamn truck. 

You peel the door open, blindly feeling around the console until you find the stupid tool you came all the way up here for. This old hunk of metal can sit here and rot for all you care. Why did you even try to mess with it? You know full well what will happen if you do more than open the door. 

Something always has to go wrong. 

You don't even feel your hand touch the light switch, but the room plunges into darkness all the same. To hell with—

"Am I interruptin' anything?" 

The door slams shut behind you, the knob jabbing into your spine. "Rhett?"

It's so dark out that you nearly miss the way his hands twist together, his head tilted toward the ground, not quite bold enough to look you in the eye. "I just...wanted to come and tell you I'm sorry," he pauses, peeking up at you through his lashes. You've never seen someone look more like a kicked puppy in your life. "I was actin' just like Tyler back there."

...huh. 

Can't say you were expecting that. 

"It's...uh..." What do you say? You can't say that it's okay. It's not okay. "Thank you?"

That seems to be enough for him. Shoulders falling, finally lifting his head to look at you properly. But then, his brows knit together. It's too dark to see where he's looking, but you can almost feel the heat of his gaze fixating on the garage behind you. "What're ya doin' out here?"

"Working on something?" This is what you get into focusing on creating an excuse and not rehearsing it beforehand. An amateur surrounded by Hollywood stars would be more convincing than you are.

"Top secret stuff, huh?" Is he buying it? He sounds like he is. "Somethin' broke on that gold truck of yours?"

...

Son of a bitch.

"How did you..." you don't...you don't know what to...say... "know about that?"

He jams his thumb over his shoulder, pointing blindly toward the heap of metal a few hundred feet away. "Was over in the scrap pile when ya brought it in a few weeks ago."

He's fucking with you.

He's got to be fucking with you.

"And you never said anything about it?" You feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a bullet train. Nowhere to run. Facing down your doom as it barrels toward you at a hundred miles an hour. 

"Figured you'd talk about it when y' wanted to," Rhett says it so matter of factly. Like this isn't a big deal. Like you haven't had Kate thinking that the truck has been delayed for the past month and a half.

It takes a moment to gather words on your tongue. It takes even longer to arrange them into a comprehensible sentence. "Does anybody else know?"

Rhett shrugs. "Not that 'm aware of."

You don't entirely know what it is that leads you to reach for the doorknob and twist it again. Nobody is forcing you to show him the truck. Hell, he's not even asking or acting like he wants to see it, but your body seems to be moving on its own accord. Maybe it simply can't handle another day of carrying around the secret, or maybe it's something else. Something that words aren't capable of describing. 

Rhett doesn't say a word. Quietly following you into the dark garage, winces when you flick on the overhead lights without warning. 

And then his eyelashes begin to flutter in that dumb, endearing sort of way. Intrigued. "What made ya wanna hide this?"

"Because if Kate finds out it's here, I'll have to work on it," you almost lean your hip against the front bumper. Almost.

Damn thing would probably blow up if you actually followed through with that impulse.

"I'm not followin'." Rhett runs his fingers across the hood, leaving behind little trails amongst the collection of dust. 

"Every time I touch this truck, it ends badly," now that you're saying it out loud, it sounds like you're trying to convince him that the thing is haunted. "I drove it here, and a headlight blew. Tried to fix that exposed wire on the driver's side and shocked the hell out of myself."

"What, two—"

"Time before that, the hydraulic arm snapped, and we turned into an EF3's playground toy." Not giving him any time to wiggle into the gaps of your argument. You're not touching it. End of story. 

He doesn't push it any further. Doesn't downplay what you're trying to tell him or try to sell you on the novelty of coincidences and misinterpretations. No, he just...hums and nods his head as if this is a story he hears all the time. 

A part of you hates that you ever expected anything less of him.

The cicadas take over. Singing their shrill, repetitive tune that somehow manages to get louder when you're inside. You don't know if it counts as silence when there are hundreds of bugs screaming the song of their people, like nature's rejected choir.

"Do y' want me to fix it?" Rhett's voice is like silk against the grating little pests lurking outside.

"Fix what?" You're lost.

"The headlight," he taps his knuckle against it, visibly disturbing the dust there, "and the wire that shocked ya." 

You're not entirely sure if you want to put the time and effort into this old piece of junk. There's a fairly large possibility that something internal has dry-rotted over the years and is bound to break at any moment, something that will cost a whole lot more than a cheap little headlight. But...

"Only if you want to," you don't mean for it to come out so miserable. Like you've had to strangle the words out of your own throat.

Rhett doesn't seem to notice it, his lips pulling up into a meager smile right before he moseys off to mess with the exposed wire. He taps his finger against the metal casing, following it up to where it ventures over the roof, then follows that until it guides him toward the driver's door. 

It's like he's got a blueprint of how you rigged this together, knows exactly where you've got the electric control box sitting, and which of the wires belong to the exposed one. The cover snaps back into place with the slightest bit of pressure. Easy as can be. No sparks, no shocks. 

The headlights are a bigger pain in the ass than they should be. You remember that all too well, the tediousness of removing the internal cover, several screws, and the grill, all to reach what should be an easily accessible headlight. 

"At the risk of soundin' dumb," Rhett's talking funny with that screw resting in the corner of his lip, "but you really built this thing?" 

"Once upon a time, yes." It doesn't even feel like you were the one who came up with all of this.

 The countless sleepless nights spent tweaking and redrawing plans. Building or scouring the ends of the earth for specific little parts. The perpetual stiffness in your neck from building your inventions into the truck. God, the grease stains that claimed so many of your t-shirts. 

The memories are all there in your head, and when Rhett tugs at the grill housing, your hands still twitch with a muscle memory you've yet to lose. He needs to tilt it up and towards himself. It's easier that way. But the memories don't feel like your own. Belonging to a past life, a glimpse of something that was never really meant for you. 

A stray thought draws to the forefront of your mind. "How's your shoulder?" 

"Hm?" He lifts his head, staring at you. Then, realizing what you said. "It's a'ight, jus' needed a couple stitches." 

You wonder what he defines as 'a couple'. But he doesn't push for any more history between you and the truck, so you don't push him for anything, either. 

There's a bunch of spare bulbs hiding in the main garage, and that really should be the end of it. Once the hood slams shut, there shouldn't be anything left to tinker with. The light works, the wire is no longer exposed, and everything is in order. You have absolutely zero reason to lay eyes on this truck again. 

To be fair, that's exactly what happens. 

For a day. 

"I thought they were s'pposed to quit arguin'?" 

You hear Rhett before you see him. Half-open eyes and messy hair stumbling down the unlit hallway, his arms full with his fuzzy brown blanket. Must have had the same idea that you did, seeking out the room furthest from Tyler's, hoping for another minute or two of sleep. 

You hate to tell him that there's no peace to be found in this damned house. 

"Bold of you to believe them," your attention darts back to the notebook resting in your lap, pen idly drawing across old lines, darkening them. Four in the morning is too early for creativity, but you can't fall back asleep, and you didn't bring anything to distract from the never-ending quarrel.

The couch cushion dips, Rhett's heavyweight settling in next to you. His cheek finds its way to your shoulder, landing there so naturally that you hardly even question it. "What're ya drawin'?"

"Same thing as before, just making it look a little less..." You don't know where you were going with that. Rhett isn't awake enough to catch it.

His gaze is so warm that you can feel it following your hand around the page, drinking in the careful strokes of the pen. 

It's almost enough to distract from Kate's muffled swearing, but nothing short of a speaker at full blast is going to drown them out. So the pen continues to dance across the paper, and the silence remains battered by two people who need to suck up their pride and kiss already. If not for the sake of their own mundane love lives, then for the sanity of those around them. 

"Have ya ever considered buildin' this idea?" Rhett reaches out to trace his finger around your crudely drawn wheel, the only spot he can touch without getting in your way.

"I started on it a long time ago," rattling it off without much thought. You don't have the capacity to consider what you're saying right now. "The sockets and connections are already built into the roof, but I could never get the hydraulic arms right." 

"I could help."

"Yeah?"

He tilts his head up to look at you, and you're just awake enough to realize that those aren't actually stars sparkling behind his eyes. But damn, does it sure look like tiny galaxies are lurking beneath the sea of blue. 

You don't know why you let him lean up and rub his nose against yours, but it must be the reason why you nuzzle him back. 

If there is one thing more awkward about sitting through Kate and Tyler's never-ending argument, it's having to survive their new form of fighting—the silent treatment. Each refusing to say a word when the other is in the room, resigning to comments filled with double meanings and glares out of the corner of their eyes.

You, quite frankly, might combust if you have to sit through another silent meal. If you wanted to be put in timeout, you would go back to elementary school.

"I see we had the same idea," you yawn, fighting to keep your eyes open as it takes over. One wrong step and your food is going to find itself in the gravel, and you're not looking to brave the wall of silence for a second time. 

"Great minds think alike," Rhett kicks his foot at you, perched up on the tailgate of his truck. "Unless your mind belongs t' two people I cannot name."

The initial plan was to wait until the weekend before you spent any time working on your truck, but it's hard to put it off when Tyler and his fleet of vehicles tear out of the driveway before noon, taking away damn near ever project Rhett had on the drawing board. You don't see Kate leave, but her car is missing from its usual spot, and you're in no mood to learn any more than that.

They'll get over it.

...once hell freezes over.

It's like you become caught up in a time loop. Every day, you wake up expecting to be put to work, to chase a storm, or to go on a supply run for weather equipment that you don't know the name of. Every day, you eat breakfast in the back of Rhett's truck and watch as every vehicle on the property flees the premises. Every day, you walk into that spare garage, roll up your sleeves, and begin tinkering with last night's project.

And Rhett just keeps coming around. Always the one to attach your creations to the truck, races you to pick up the heavier things around the shop, pokes at your sketches until you've explained every little thought and whim that went into why you created that particular part. 

Working with him is so much different than it was with Kate. She was never difficult to work with in the past; nothing big stands out in your memory, but you distinctly recall every frustrating moment she asked to change something that she didn't fully understand. Builds like these were nothing like what she was familiar with. She knew weather, not cars, and that was okay, but...

Fuck, it's like Rhett shares a brain with you. It's strange; he looks at what you're doing, and he just...understands it. Like you've finally found someone who understands a language that only you have spoken until now.

It's two weeks before the parts begin to fall into place, but once they do, it's all uphill from there. The hydraulic arms fit like a glove, and the batteries built beneath the seat offer more than enough electricity to operate them without sucking power from another operation. The drills spin as they're supposed to; they don't even warp when they sink into the rocky Arkansas soil for the first time.

Sunlight reveals that the cage protecting the windshield has rusted to hell. Rhett's sputtering about an improved design before you've even realized how bad it has gotten. A few of the tires need replacing, and if you don't let him fix those mismatching rims, he might just lose his mind.

"How d' you just let it look like that?" He's gotten heated so quickly, but that growing smile suggests he's only trying to bother you for the fun of it, "'n how did I miss this for so damn long?" 

"It doesn't affect the performance," you shrug, don't really recall when or how you wound up with one rim that doesn't match the others. Don't particularly care, either. 

"It's affectin' mine!" 

Your afternoon plans didn't originally include running between three shops in search of rims that match the aesthetics of the truck, but it's hard to say no when Rhett grabs you by the hand and guides you along like he does. 

And he...doesn't really let go. 

Maybe he does a few times, but he's loosely holding your hand in his while you walk from one store to another, and he's grabbing it to show you a set that he thinks is perfect for the truck's aesthetic. He's squeezing it when someone starts eyeing you up in the checkout lane. He's toying with your fingers at the stop light. And he reaches for it again at the end of the night when the rims are finally, finally on.

Now that you think about it, 'no dating business partners' almost definitely applies to you, too, but...

Oh, what the hell, why do you care? 

"Do you...want to try something?" Rhett's thumb swipes across your knuckles, idle little motions that seem to burn into your skin. 

You think you know what he's about to try and do, but... "Okay." 

He's gentle about it, guiding you forward toward the shimmering gold vehicle, sparkling in all of its post-bath glory. His other hand finds your waist, drawing you to stand in front of him, back kissing his warm chest. 

"What are we doing?" You know what he's doing. 

"Nothin' huge," he murmurs, voice low in your ear, so close that you can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of it, "just...touchin' the door, a'ight?" 

His hand slips behind yours, grasping it from behind. Gently, he pushes it forward, so light that you can hardly feel his touch at all. Your stomach twists. That paint is too close.

Your arm stiffens. He doesn't push any further.

 It's too...well...if Rhett's not afraid of it, you suppose that...

It's cool beneath your touch, like ice, when you compare it to the burn of Rhett's palm. There's a scratch in the pain that you hadn't noticed up until this very moment, just deep enough to feel when the pad of your finger drifts across it. It feels...well, like a perfectly normal truck. You're not sure what else you were expecting. 

Your eyes dart to the window, peering at the silhouette of the steering wheel. 

Rhett's hand disappears from behind yours, leaves you cold and alone, up against this truck, but he makes no move to step away. Still here, even if you can't necessarily feel him. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"You're not gonna make me drive it next, are you?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding so annoyed, like a petulant child. 

His laugh echoes through the room and out the open door; doesn't seem to mind your tone at all. "Nah, we can wait on that." 

You don't touch it again until a few days later, your hip idly coming to rest against it during a conversation. And again, when Rhett's on the roof of the vehicle and needs you to climb up and hand him something. It doesn't shock you. The door doesn't magically slam shut on your fingers. It's...normal. Hell, it's at the very bottom of your list of inconveniences.

That's mostly because two names have taken over the rest of the page, but you digress. 

There's a moment when you catch yourself climbing into the driver's seat; you accidentally spilled a jar of bolts all over the floor, and the only way to fully clean it up is to get the truck out of the way. The key finds its way into the ignition without question, twisting so easily that you hardly realize what you're doing.

But then the engine rumbles to life, vibrating beneath your feet and echoing around the tiny garage like thunder, and ice forms in your joints. Stiff, freezing you into place like someone's pressed the pause button. 

Rhett tilts the broom handle toward you; those blue eyes are warm enough to melt you back into motion. Something about him keeps reining you in. Stops you before you can force yourself beyond your boundaries before you're ready. 

You're starting to love that about him. 

"I thought we were past this," you mutter, chin resting heavy against your knee. 

A midnight breeze swirls past you, bringing a chill that has you drawing your legs closer to your chest. At least the night is quiet, even the chirping cicadas have turned themselves down, nothing but a distant melody that you can hardly hear. Your ears catch the sound of a fork striking a plate, so sharp that it carries through the window and out into the parking lot. 

"'m sorry," Rhett's knees crack as he bends down to sit next to you, back coming to rest against the cool exterior of his truck. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his arm, warm and cozy like the flames of a campfire. 

"You've got nothing to apologize for," it's not his fault. Nobody could have expected that bringing up the YouTube channel would end in...that. 

He hums. "I know."

Wind slams against the truck behind you, rocking it just enough for you to feel the motion against your back. Rhett's hair lifts. Dancing. Twisting along with it. Blowing into his face until he sputters and forces it behind his ear once more. If you had known you would be sitting outside, then you would have grabbed your coat before you came all the way out here.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and you've got nothing but this thin t-shirt and the warmth of your own body to get by on, hugging your legs even tighter. They've been in this position for so long that they've begun to go numb, but you prefer this to shivering.

"Cold?" Rhett leans over, nudging you with his elbow. You think he leaves a small fire behind, burning a little spot into your skin.

"Little bit," biting back the waver in your voice. 

"C'mere," and he's not really waiting for you to give him a yes or a no, already lifting his arm, beckoning you into his warm side. You shouldn't, but...

Oh, what the hell.

One little motion is all it takes to scoot under his arm, your head dropping to nestle against the expanse of his chest, and fuck, he's burning up. It's like snuggling into a big, cozy flame, one that envelops you before you can think twice about it. His head tilts, his chin coming to rest against your forehead, freshly shaven and a little bit prickly. 

You can hear his heartbeat right here. Deep little thump, thump, thumps, following an unnamed tune that you've never heard before. It seems the cicadas have drums now. Performing their little melodies for their barely-there audience, punctuated by the drone of a car crossing through the lot.

"What if I drive us to McDonalds?" Rhett's voice vibrates through your skull. Your head goes quiet. "Think there's a Taco Bell down the road, too."

Finding the ability to speak is...hard. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to move yet."

"That's a'ight," his lips press to your temple, "we can stay here, too." 

He doesn't say anything about what he just did. Neither do you, but it sticks in the back of your head like glue. You could convince yourself that it's just a ghost, one who has decided to follow you around and kiss the side of your head every time you think about him, the lingerings of a memory that refuses to leave. 

It's there when you lean up against the passenger side door, bent legs lazily slotting between Rhett's as you eat your greasy fast food. It bubbles to the surface when you run into each other in the living room and become sucked in by the Dr. Phil episode blasting from the neglected television. You can feel its presence when you spot him outside the garage while you and Kate are having coffee on the porch. 

You don't know if she realizes that you tune out of the conversation right then and there, mindlessly following the sight of his pale shoulders as he hoses something off. Muscles flex with the mundane effort, thick enough to cast a shadow. 

"I mean, can you believe he said that?" Kate's still going, the ice rattling in her cup as her hand moves about. "Yes, I'll admit I have feelings for him, but you know how that would affect the business!" 

"Who says that kind of thing?" You wonder what it would be like to dig your nails into those shoulders. What it would feel like for those jean-clad hips to slip between your parted—

"Exactly!" Kate hasn't the slightest clue what kind of daydream she just interrupted.

The memory of a kiss has zero reason to make itself known in the middle of an auto parts shop. When your hands are stained in indescribable grime that has no doubt managed to mar your face, the rattiest clothes you own hanging from your body with all the grace of a cardboard box. If you don't already look your worst, then you certainly feel your worst.

So why do you have the audacity to think about crossing the aisle and kissing him until you get kicked out? What provoked you to start thinking about this? You're supposed to be looking for that stupid...battery...damn which of these...did... 

"Which brand were you looking for?" The question is so prominent in your mind that it slips out of your mouth before you can realize it, already turning to look in his direction.

"The purple one," he rattles off, staring down at something in his palm. 

The...purple one? 

Huh, you'd thought it would be a lot more complicated than that. 

"I..." Rhett lifts his head, a lone curl casting across his cheek, wide blue eyes staring back at you. There's not a thought behind them. "I...forget the name." 

Not your truck, not your fight. If he wants the one with the purple label, then that's what you'll pull off the shelf—

Shit, you forgot how heavy these damn things are. Your elbow pops, shivering under the sudden weight. It's not too heavy; you were just...not ready to actually carry something heavy. If you'd remembered, then you would have lifted it differently.

Rhett's arm drifts past your chest, his hand curling around the plastic handle, taking it from you so easily that you hardly feel it leave your grasp. "I got it." 

You understand why you were so unprepared now. 

It's because he makes the thing look light as a feather, only needs one hand to hold it as you walk to the checkout together. He doesn't even need help to put it up on the counter, so nonchalant about it that he doesn't even pay attention to what he's doing.

An ancient little television buzzes in the top right corner, directly above the chair of the missing cashier. You don't think it's been touched since it was hung when this place was built, a mountain of dust resting atop its boxy shape, but it still plays. A blurry newsreel crosses the screen, a bald-headed man pointing at a live weather radar. 

The nameless man waves his hand across a patch of red and purple on the screen, rattling off words that take you a moment to process. "As this growing storm bears down on—"

"Y'all ready to check out?" The cashier is right in front of you all of a sudden. Rhett says something that you don't entirely catch. 

This is the storm Kate was muttering about earlier, up in the northwest corner of the state, projected to produce conditions ideal for one of her beloved little tornadoes. The tiny ones that do nothing but rock the trucks back and forth, maybe striking a few unlucky houses but not taking out entire towns.

Your lower belly twists. 

You're not entirely sure why it happens, but it does. Stomach churning back and forth like you're about to be sick, all over the sight of a television screen. Something in the room begins to ring, quiet but gradually growing louder, right in your ears, this piercing noise that you can't seem to shake. Your tongue is numb in your mouth, the air cold in your chest. 

The scene changes. A woman in a raincoat, holding a microphone to her lips as she gestures broadly at the road behind her. Cars rush past. A Prius, a minivan, two Volkswagen Beetles, a silver truck, a red truck, an ancient motorhome...

"There they are," Rhett mutters, just barely audible over the ringing. You and he are supposed to be out there with them. 

You think your hand is shaking. 

Again, the cameras change, jumping back to the same bald weather forecaster as he points to something you don't understand. But they've laid it out for people like you, all of Kate's unexplained terminology has been dumbed down into vague, simple terms that you recognize loud and clear.

"That storm is gonna be too much for their trucks to handle." It darts out of your mouth before you can think about what you're about to say, teeth chattering around the letters.

Rhett tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"The storm trucks," your jaw shivers, muscles fighting to disobey your every command. "Are any of them rated for tornadoes stronger than an F2?"

"None of 'em are," he reaches to pull his card from the reader, then, pausing, "the only rig that can handle that sort of thing is..." 

You tear your gaze from the television, the reporter's voice droning on and on about something you don't entirely understand. Rhett's already looking back to you. Still frozen in place. You think you catch one of your own thoughts flickering behind his eyes. 

But you can't help yourself, looking back up toward the grainy screen. The weatherman is still talking, his warbled voice drowning in the squealing filling your ears. You think you catch the card reader beeping, yelling about a forgotten credit card. The storm wasn't this big when it crossed Kate's screen; you remember it fit perfectly between these two towns. The forecast entirely covers them now, extending out to the areas nearby.

Something warm curls around your hand.

The ringing stops. 

You don't know where the cashier has gone or when Rhett walked up next to you. But you can hear the shallow sound of your own breath, the sharp ins and outs that mismatch with the slow puff of Rhett's. 

It's still audible, even as the room changes. Ever so present when the tile floor morphs into smooth concrete, that familiar musty scent swirling around your head, assaulting your nose and drying your mouth out. Shimmering gold paint glares back at you. But your right hand is still warm.

"You've got this," the keys jingle as Rhett talks, awkwardly holding them out with his other hand. They're right there for you to take. You don't even have to reach. "I know y' do."

You're still not so sure about that. But the radio in the corner is blaring its muffled severe weather alert warnings, the old television screen is burned into your retinas, and this damn old truck isn't going anywhere, regardless of how hard you glare at it. 

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, his hand squeezing a little tighter. "It's just a grumpy ol' truck."

The truck roars. Back tires squealing as your hands fly across the wheel. Cinching all twelve thousand pounds of machine to the left. The guy behind you blares his horn.

"Prick." Rhett snarls under his breath. His hand on the overhead handle tightens. Muscles and veins flex so harshly that you can see it in the corner of your eye. The front right tire dips off the pavement, the steering wheel almost ripping itself to the right. 

Where are they? Where are they? 

"I thought you were navigating!" You don't mean to yell. Too focused on jumping your foot between the brake and gas pedals, fighting against a speed limit that you know isn't being enforced right now. 

"I am!" Rhett's nail taps angrily at a screen. "Wherever they are 's got no fucking service."

The storm seems to be further to the east, right might be your best bet. But this road doesn't look like it goes on for at least another mile, and you can't take another dead end. Not with the rapidly darkening sky overhead. Looming. Waiting for the right moment to drop an ocean's worth of hail and rain upon you.

"Right!" Rhett yells. "Go right!" 

The tires scream. Foot tapping the breaks. The steering wheel spins. You're vaguely aware of your body tilting in the seat. Shoulder bumping into the glass. 

But you never teeter off the road. 

Even if you come close to it. 

"What made you decide that?" You feel as if you're still spinning, even as the road straightens out in front of you. 

His hand lifts, middle finger pointing toward something you don't have time to identify. "I remember them passin' them grain silos before the live stream cut off." 

You see them. A cluster of six, up in the distance, towering over the corn fields that have swallowed you whole. Maybe a mile or two up the road, give or take. Plenty of time for you to lean on the gas pedal again, the floorboard rumbling as the speedometer crawls back up to seventy. 

Everything still seems attached. No sensors are going off on the control panel crudely built into the center console. You know Rhett would have said something if one of them lit up, but you're looking at them anyway. Just in case one magically decides to light up with a catastrophic error in the next thirty seconds.

You've already got to tap the brakes again. Stupid, winding country roads forcing you to crawl back under fifty to avoid tipping over. It would be so much easier to cut through this patch of field that has already been harvested, barren, until spring rolls back around. Dodge the curves and jump right back onto the main stretch. Actually...

If Kate can accidentally drive this truck into a small river and come out fine, then a little offroading shouldn't hurt it in the slightest.

What's stopping you? 

"What the hell?!" Rhett squeals. "You coulda damaged the damn—!"

"Dallas has handled worse." There's no way you're doing this. There's no way you're really driving this rig. Never mind hauling it straight through someone's old cornfield. Bouncing up and down with every little bump in the soil. 

Rhett's head whips toward you. Still clinging to that oh-shit handle. "Dallas?"

...well.

He had to find out eventually.

All it takes is the slightest nudge to the left to jump back onto the road. And you never realized how quiet driving on the pavement is until now. Virtually silent as you reach for the turn signal, easing through a turn that you were definitely supposed to stop for. 

The cornfields break apart up ahead, diving down into the much shorter soybean crops, expanding as far as the eye can see. No police cars around to catch sight of you blowing through another all-way stop, straddling the thin expanse of pavement. 

There's a van parked on the side of the road, tucked away in a little patch of gravel. Lights and cameras flash. Yellow and white ponchos scurry back and forth. Dressed in t-shirts and shorts and flip-flops, not one of them prepared for more than mild rain. 

"There's no way they didn't come this way," Rhett's echoing the very thought that just crossed your mind.

The first drops of rain come in one thick sheet. Slamming against the windshield. Blurring sight of the rapidly deteriorating road. You've only just turned the windshield wipers on, but they're still not enough. Whirring back and forth as fast as they can possibly go.

Everything around you has gone white. You can't—shit, you can't see the road. "Can you see anything?"

Rhett leans forward, chin bumping the dashboard. The tablet in his lap beeps. Once. Twice. Three times. "Not a fuckin' thing." 

The console lights up. Purple in color. The wind gauge. 

"What does...?" Rhett doesn't finish that question. Doesn't really need to.

"The wind speeds are higher than a hundred-fifty miles an hour," your mouth is moving, but you don't recognize what you're saying. Don't have time to focus on that. "Tell me if the green one comes on."

Gravel abruptly appears under the tires. Panging against the sides of the truck like hail. 

Rhett reaches for something on the dash. "What does green mean?"

"That we should go in the opposite direction." And you don't want to remember if that light is meant to detect two hundred mile-an-hour winds or two hundred fifty. 

Fog melts from the windshield. You didn't recognize it was even there. Fading away into a clearer world. You can see the fields again, mere feet away from the vehicle, as you tear down a road too tiny for your tires to fit on. 

Clouds stir overhead, so dark that they're visible even through the rain. Twisting in a slow spiral, gradually descending to the earth below. But she's not here yet. She still needs a minute to gather her momentum before the clouds can kiss the ground. 

Red flashes up ahead. 

Your stomach drops.

"Take this left!" Rhett's order is your command. Shooting off onto an even smaller dirt path. A windmill shudders to your right, swaying back and forth. 

There they are.

Drills whir on either side of Tyler's truck. Digging deep into the earth. But there's nothing to help the aluminum trailer hitched to it, shivering violently under the wind. 

"You're sure they don't have this covered?" Rhett has to shout for you to hear him. Even then, you don't think you do. 

The back of your throat is sour. It's crawling into your eyes, clawing at your belly. Your hands shiver. The steering wheel briefly slips from your grasp. 

Something isn't right.

Your foot slips off the gas pedal. Sporadically tapping around, struggling to jump back on. Dallas's engine roars louder than the winds squealing past. 

"It's not working!" Tyler's voice arcs across the radio.

Hail crashes into the roof. Scattering across the windshield cage.

"The barrels aren't deploying!" Kate. 

The backend of their trailer jumps. The left auger slips through the soil. Tyler's truck twists a few feet. Was never meant to withstand this kind of wind. 

Dallas is slipping. Tires fail to cling to the ground as you rush forward. 

"Rhett—"

"I'm on it." He's already got his hand on the overhead button. Thumb hovering over the red light.

You're almost—you're almost. Just a few more yards is all you need. Almost. Tyler's door parallels with your passenger side. Little more. Little more—

The brake pedal spurs beneath your foot. Kicking back. Dallas lurches. Something internal shrieks. 

"Now!" 

Drills spin. Digging into already saturated ground. The engine roars impossibly louder, and the lights begin to flicker. All power concentrates over your head. Groaning to life, the hydraulic arms resting overhead begin to extend. Arking high into the air. Twisting outward. The tip of a drill bumps into the trailer, but it's still moving. Swinging over top of Tyler's rig, drills sinking into the ground on the other side. 

A blackened wind takes hold of the outside world. Dallas shudders. But the steel arms never let Tyler's truck out of their hug. You don't think they're slipping any further. Fuck. Fuck you couldn't tell even if they did. Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did Rhett let you do this? It's too loud to hear if they've blown away. And you can't see a single—

"Hey." 

Your shoulder is warm. And that sensation is crawling up the back of your neck, forcing your head to turn. Rhett's hands crawl up to your cheekbones, blocking out your surroundings. You're trying to look out the windshield, but he's not letting go. 

He's the only thing in existence. 

The console digs into your side as he pulls you toward him. His forehead kisses yours. Noses resting against each other. It's so dark, but the blue of his eyes is still as bright as the sky lurking above the clouds. The howling tornado softens into a hum. 

"We're okay," it's nothing but a whisper in the rampage, "we're okay." 

You hear him. There's no reason you should be able to. His mouth is moving. The words never greet your ears. Lost. Drowned out by a muffled sound that you're no longer capable of comprehending.

But you hear him. 

This mattress...is the lumpiest thing you have ever felt in your life. A bed made of bubbles would be more even than this is, digging into the curves in your spine and nudging awkwardly beneath your hips. But you can't bring yourself to move. Not when the tension is easing from your back and shoulders. Has been there for so long that it almost hurts to let it slip away.

The television is on, multicolored lights flickering across the screen, playing what you think is another newsreel, but you can't look at it. Not today. Not tomorrow. You're dying here in this cheap motel bed. The last thing you plan to hear is either the slow drone of the weatherman or the boom of thunder outside. 

Someone knocks at your door. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

"Who is it?" Using your voice requires far too much effort on your behalf.

A muffled sound works its way through the scratched wooden door. You don't know what he says, but you know who it is.

Your body tells you that getting up is impossible. Your heart already has you sitting up, sore feet falling onto the thin carpet without complaint. Something twitches in your back as you walk toward the door, wordlessly begging for the comforts of that shitty bed.

"Hey," you breathe.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter. "Hey."

Neither of you say anything further. It's as if all of your words have spilled out of your brain and carried off with the breeze, venturing off into the storm, never to be seen again. You think the same thing must happen to Rhett because he doesn't seem to have any words left, either. 

Wind twists through his hair, whirling past and into your hotel room. Its invisible hands find your backs, pressing until you fall together like a pair of dolls. Like two trucks who needed one last nudge to nosedive off the cliff. His arms curl around your waist, and your nose is buried into his shoulder, and he's so warm and real. 

"So Dallas, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, almost enough to make you shudder.

"You gotta admit, I had you convinced," talking into his shoulder, unbothered by how muffled it makes you sound.

"Sure y' did." It's his laughter that does it, sends a shiver racing down your weary spine. You think you're going to collapse into a million tiny pieces. "I would've never guessed that it was your fuckin' truck." 

There's a part of you that wonders how he never figured that out; you're pretty sure that you scribbled Dallas's name into the license plate of your sketch that he's looked at so many times. Or maybe he did and simply didn't make the connection that Dallas was a truck and not another man.

"Found out why those two losers were always arguin'," he makes no effort to draw away from you, his arms remaining comfortably looped around you.

"Really?" Perking up. Maybe you've got a little bit of energy left after all. "What was it?"

Rhett leans back a little bit, enough for you to see his face, but he's yet to let you out of his grasp. "Dallas."  

"Oh, so you both fell for it!" You giggle, and you're only vaguely aware of the door slamming shut on its own, cutting off the shrill embrace of the midnight air. 

"Hey, at least I didn't make snide remarks about 'em," but you can still see the lingering embarrassment coloring his cheeks, unusually rosy. He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker, but...

Your hand darts up, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "To be fair, you have always been the sweet one."

The corners of his lips quiver, gradually curving upward, but his eyes refuse to meet with yours. "Y' think so?" 

You know so, but those words don't dare to make their way out of your mouth. Even if they did, it would be no use because they fizzle away the moment the bridge of Rhett's nose bumps into yours. He's been eating those butterscotch candies again; you can taste them on his breath, sweet as can be.

You could kiss him if you wanted to. 

All it would take is the littlest nudge forward for your lips to collide. A clever gust of wind could even do it, forcing you to take that final step forward, throw yourselves into fate's palm, and see what she decides on the matter. You could spend the rest of your life doing just this, gazing into soft hues of blue, kissing him through every storm that will ever pass. Or, this could be the only night that you ever experience this. 

Thunder rumbles outside, the overhead light flickering with it in perfect synchrony. There's no stopping this one. No amount of magic powder can ease up the onslaught of rain and hail raging outside of your window, pelting everything in its sight. 

"'s probably my cue to get out before the rain picks up too much," he says, so suddenly that you're almost shocked to realize that this isn't a dream. 

He disappears so easily. Slipping away as easily as an afternoon daydream, those eyes daring to linger for a second longer before he turns to reach for the door. That big, bruised hand of his dwarfs the knob, gingerly wrapping around it like it'll break at any given moment.

Your lower belly coils. Sour. 

You should kiss him. 

And that might be how his name tumbles out of your mouth. That might explain where you get the nerve to grab a fistful of his t-shirt, yanking so hard that he stumbles. His gasp is the last thing you hear.

It's messy. Chapped lips collide, and noses crash. His chin bumps into yours too hard, and his chest hits you with the force of a freight train. But he exhales when you do. He tilts his head forward, and you think you're beginning to fall, plummeting off the cliff and into the nebula. 

Rhett draws back just as quickly. His eyelashes flutter. You release your grasp on his shirt. Maybe you shouldn't have—

The corners of his eyes curve with his smile. You blink, and he's leaning back in. 

You're not falling into the abyss alone.

Except, you literally might be falling because you're vaguely aware of the world spinning around you, seemingly weightless for a few fleeting milliseconds, before your back finds home in the lumpy mattress you paid fifty-something dollars to sleep on. 

"Shit—" Rhett blurts, jerking away as if burned. "'m sorry, I..."

You only realize you're moving when you see your hand coming to rest against his cheek, coarse and unshaven. It's been a few days since the last time it was trimmed, has had time to soften and lose that sand-papery texture. 

"I don't mind this," you confess. Lightning crackles outside, so bright that you can see the flash of it through the curtains. 

Rhett meets you in the middle. Your noses bump once more as teeth unexpectedly clash, such a disaster that it ought to make you embarrassed, but you don't have the capacity to think about that right now. Not when he's letting himself settle against you, his heavy body slipping between your parted legs, fitting against you like he was built just for you.

Kissing him is...kissing him is like running into a tornado head first. He's so strong, pressing you down into the bed, anchoring you here with his weight alone, and he's just...Fuck, he's everywhere. His hand is curling around your face, and his belt buckle is digging into your lower belly and he smells like the rain that has enveloped the outside world. 

He's traveling. Working his tiny, open-mouthed kisses across your cheek, the tip of his nose tickling the side of your neck as he finds his way to a spot beneath your ear. 

Your hips jerk up into his.

He gasps.

"Is this...can I...?" Breathy. Hesitant. Like he's lost the ability to think.

It must be contagious. All you can do is nod. Dumb. But it's enough. It's more than enough.

No dating business partners, but surely they'd make an exception for a pretty cowboy, right? Kissing him doesn't count. Tangling your fingers in his hair doesn't count. It doesn't count if they never find out. Whatever the repercussions may be, they're not enough to stop you. 

They would understand if they knew he tasted this sweet. If they knew that he hums when he tilts his head, leaning deeper into you, as if he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. His chapped lips tangle with yours so easily that you almost think you've danced to this tune before, falling into a routine that you haven't thought about in years.

The hand on your cheek disappears, fingertips idly tracing across your skin, down your neck, and then up to the corner of your eye, doing nothing but feel you. Something rumbles outside, in perfect tune with the slow roll of his hips, grinding down into you.

"Rhett," your head is spinning, idly grabbing at his biceps like that will somehow anchor you down. 

"I ain't goin' nowhere," uttered like a sacred promise.

But the need for oxygen strikes you at the same time. Reeling back. Gasping. Eyes peeling open for what must be the first time in hours. Days, even.

Oh, he is something. Swollen lips and pink cheeks, his unruly hair ruffled and stubbornly falling into his face, so long that the ends of it tickle your face. You can only tuck so much of it behind his ear before some of it escapes and falls forward again.

Your eyes meet.

He laughs. "I feel like a damn mess."

"I'm sure I don't look any better," your thumb wanders out, tracing across his bottom lip. His tongue darts out, timidly wetting the pad of your finger. It's the last push you need to lift your hand and tap him on the nose with it. 

Those eyes scrunch shut. Overreacting just a little bit.

Thunder slams into the ground with its heavy iron fist, shaking the motel and rattling you back into motion. Leaning back up to drown in him once more, almost sighing as he meets you, grants you the luxury of settling your head against the pillow. You think he only means to shift his position, but the bulge in his jeans grinds into you all the same, a little spark of heat bolting up your core.

"This is okay?" He whispers against your lips, those big forearms settling on either side of your head, seeking more leverage.

Your tongue is limp in your mouth, distracted by how the dim light catches on his bicep, illuminating a bulging vein there. Thick, winding down into his forearm and into his big, meaty palm. 

Rhett's nose finds your cheek, gently nudging. 

It takes a moment to recall his question. "More than okay." 

Rhett's chuckle is a fleeting thing. There one moment and dissolving the next, overtaken by your sudden movement, too impatient to wait any longer. But you miss. It's hard to find any leverage when you've got him between your legs. 

His hips roll down; you're convinced that you feel him twitch in his jeans. "That what yer after?" 

There's no reason why this should work the way that it does. These layers between you should be making this harder to feel, but you're nearly convinced that the clothes are a minor hallucination because they do nothing to stop the feeling of him slowly rutting against you. The coarse material of his jeans drags against your thighs, the tent in his jeans heavy against your core.

You can't help yourself. One of your hands are tangling in his hair, and the other is grabbing hold of his bicep, greedily squeezing the thick muscle that you've spent too much of your life staring at. It flexes in your grasp, shamelessly showing off. You'd call him out on it if not for—

"Your ass is vibrating," you can feel it against your knee, a steady buzz that wasn't there before. 

"Think it's Ty," he doesn't reach for his phone. Instead, his finger curls into the pearl snap buttons of his flannel, raking down and popping them open one by one. 

His pale chest is...distracting.

"Are you gonna answer?" You croak, already fixating on that bucking bull tattoo. Old. Faded. Some little thing he picked up right after he turned eighteen, a discount job that has already begun to wear down. You recall him saying that his momma almost kicked him out of the house for it. 

"Nah," the thin fabric falls from his body like a distant memory, landing somewhere on the floor. "Whatever it is can wait 'till mornin'." It's the tiniest motion, reaching into his pocket and tossing his phone off to the side, but the light catches on his chest just right, and...

"Rhett, this is..." You had a feeling it was worse than just a few stitches, but the image in your head wasn't this.

It's just below his collarbone. Healed at the top but opening up into a wide gash that is far too wide to be stitched closed, scabbed over, and surrounded in a sea of yellow and purple. You can see where the stitches once were, little red dots following the space that has already scarred.

"I know," he mutters, almost sounds ashamed. 

You don't know what makes you do it. But you lean up, lips delicately pressing to the thin line of pink skin. Just two slow pecks, steering clear of what you know is a sore wound.

"'re you kissin' me better?" His voice is right in your ear, his smile shifting the tone of his words. 

"S'ppose I am," there's an unexpected twang to your tone; you're starting to sound like him. 

Your foreheads meet. Softly thunking together, noses rubbing back and forth in their own unspoken dance. He squirms, pulling himself a little higher on the bed, and—

"Shit." He's hissing, dragging his hips against yours again—something about that angle, fuck. 

Rhett's the one who's taken charge of this, deliberately grinding himself into you like he can't think of doing anything else, but it's you who pushes things further. Craning your head up to find the prickly underside of his jaw, pressing your lips to the space beneath his ear. It's just so hard to stop yourself, lightly sucking on the skin there, enough to hear him gasp and leave a faint red patch in your wake.

One after another, gradually making your way down his neck, his heavy breaths enough to make you dizzy. Only stopping when you can no longer reach, forced to reel back before the ache in your neck begins to grow. 

Rhett picks up right where you left off, his tongue poking between his lips as he kisses down your neck, leaving behind little wet spots that seem to freeze over in the chilly bedroom air. His big hands dip beneath your shirt, callouses dragging against your sensitive skin. You know what he's about to ask, and you're already arching your back off the bed.

But he doesn't take it off. Stops right as he pushes the fabric up to your neck, skipping across it, lips finding your naked chest instead. "You'll get cold if I take it all the way off," he murmurs as if he can hear the question floating through your head. 

Without warning, his mouth finds your nipple. Delicately pulls it into his mouth like you'll shatter if he's too rough, his tongue swirling around the little bud in such a way that your head spins in tune with it. Your hands are in his hair, clinging to those curls resting at his nape, a little noise whistling out of your throat. 

He draws away, and—shit, it really is cold in here. 

Your hips jerk on their own accord. Impatient for something you weren't thinking about. 

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett's chuckling at your antics like this is a little game you've been playing for years on end. 

You're playing into it. Lifting your hips when his fingers curl beneath your waistband, shyly drawing your legs together when you realize that he's taken your underwear with your shorts, all in one go. It's easier to ignore the sudden over-exposed sensation when he reaches for his belt, pinching it open and squirming out of those too-tight jeans that have no right to cling to him like they do. 

He's here before you hear the clothes hit the floor. Slipping between your legs once more, his body so warm against your chilly skin. Melting away the metaphorical frost that has already begun to call you home.

Oh.

You didn't realize he was—fuck, that's so much better without clothes in your way. His cock slipping between your folds, the thick underside massaging against your swollen clit so easily. 

"Rhett..." aimlessly babbling, grasping at his biceps before you can think twice about it. 

You don't know if it's because you never gave it much thought or if it's because it's been a while, but he's so much bigger than you thought he'd be. Just the sight of his thick, weeping tip is enough to make you dizzy, the kind of size that almost makes you feel minuscule in comparison.

"So fuckin' wet already," you don't know when he got so close to your ear, a violent shiver quaking across your body as he whispers in that stupidly low voice of his. "were y' wantin' me that bad, sweetheart?" 

You can't respond. Not when he's using his own body weight to keep you pinned to the mattress as he ruts his big cock against your pussy, deliberately targeting your poor clit over and over. Little fireworks rattle up your spine and explode in your head with every motion, glittering behind your eyelids, staining your view of his face. 

"I...shit, Rhett..." speaking is like swimming through a tsunami, words there and gone in a matter of milliseconds, washed away to the back of your mind. "Rhett..." It's no use. You can't...you can't...

The bridge of his nose kisses yours, one of his stray brunette curls coming down to tickle your cheek. You fear the day he cuts his hair short. "Say it again." 

He's said...something, you know he did, but it's so—it's so hard to focus. Too distracted by the way precum obscenely spills out of his slit, mixing with your own wetness, sickening the glide of his length, his every motion punctuated by a quiet squelch that's too loud for this little hotel room. Kate can hear it from down the hall; you're sure of it. 

Hell, maybe she's too busy with Tyler. Maybe she'll throw that 'no dating business partners' rule to the wind and shut that loud-mouthed cowboy up once and for all.  

"...huh?" You think you were supposed to be figuring out what Rhett said. Still haven't done that. 

"Say my name again," he sounds a little breathier now, his sharp hips forcing your thighs to rise and fall with the motion of his body, clinging to him like he's the only stable thing in this big, blinding world. 

"Rhett." It slips out like you've been uttering it your whole life, tongue hand-crafted to do nothing else but form the shape of his name. Can't really stop yourself now that you've begun to say it. Mindlessly mumbling his name with every long thrust. "Rhett...Rhett!" 

Pressure unexpectedly blossoms. Air catches in your throat as his cock head dips into you. 

"Shit—!" Rhett's yelp dissolves into a muffled groan. "I didn't mean..."

But your legs are curling around him, your heels digging into the swell of his ass, urging him deeper. More. You want more of this. 

Oh, and he gives you exactly what you want. Softens and lets you draw him in, so overtaken by the sensation that he visibly fights to keep his eyes open. You weren't ready for this at all and you don't even care. It's hard to think about the ache when he's already dragging against a sensitive cluster of nerves, his cock so thick that it rubs against them without even trying.

"'s it feel good or 'm I hurtin' ya?" Rhett's voice is like gravel. So much lower than what you remember it being. 

"'s good," you're whining, absently squeezing at his biceps as he sinks further and further into you. There's just so much of him to take, slowly splitting your poor pussy wide open inch by fucking inch. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not near as scary as the monster between your shivering thighs. Lightning flickers as you feel him bottom out, buried to the hilt, and you don't...you don't know if you have room left to even breathe. 

There's no real waiting. He can't, with you taking it upon yourself to dig your heels into the bed and impatiently rutting yourself against him. Shallow little ins and outs that very nearly punch the air out of your lungs.

"So fuckin' impatient," his chest settles against yours, anchoring you into the bed and forcing your squirming hips to hold still. "Needin' my cock that bad, baby?"

You've got just enough of your bearings left to glare at him. No, you were wanting him to buy you a snack out of the vending machine. What else could you want?

"Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't give it to ya," he chuckles like he can hear every little snarky thought that crosses your mind; maybe he's been reading your mind ever since the day you met. 

All of a sudden, he's moving, drawing those strong hips back, only to rock back into you, doing nothing but shallowly rut his cock into you. If it were anyone else, this wouldn't work, but fuck he's already got this figured out. Massaging against those little nerves you haven't touched in so, so long, such a simple thing that has you clenching around him. 

And you're helpless to do anything but cling to him and take it. Pinned to this shitty motel mattress as the storm rages on outside. 

"'s that better, hm?" He coos, nuzzling your noses together as if to soothe the pitchy noises he's gently punching out of you. "I can feel your little legs just a shakin'."

There's nothing you can say. Stunned into mindless sounds that you can't seem to stifle, all too aware of how he's beginning to pull out further, fucking you in long, heavy strokes that leave stars sparkling in your vision. 

Your hips involuntarily buck. The angle shifts. 

"Aha—!" You're crying out. Way too loud. The neighbor absolutely heard that.

But you can't think about that because Rhett's caught onto it, swiveling his hips. Misses on the first try. Drifts closer on the second—

Not a thing escapes your lips, but your back rises up off the bed, clenching around him as he strikes that spot again, and you're only vaguely aware of how you're getting wetter. Absolutely dripping around him, every little motion punctuated by a sickening squelch that you can't possibly ignore. 

"This poor lil pussy of yours," he's so talkative, purring those filthy words against your lips like they're gospel. "Gonna have ya limpin' all tomorrow."

You can't...you can't keep still. Wriggling helplessly, not sure if you're pushing up into him or trying to pull away; whatever it is, it's not working. That fat cock of his is still sinking into you at his own pace, balls lightly smacking into your ass, heavy and full and...

"Probably have to tell 'em a little lie or two," kissing him only briefly shuts him up. He's talking the moment you part ways. "'s not really acceptable to tell 'em the shop mechanic was—mmh between your pretty little legs all night long." 

Your hand finds its way up his arm. Crossing his shoulder blades. On a one-way track to tangle in his messy hair and pull. It's enough to yank his head back, that pretty, pale throat on full display as a warbled moan jumps out of him. 

Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, muffling something you wish you could hear. "Talk to me, baby."

"Wanna...wanna hear you," that doesn't sound like your voice at all. If you couldn't feel it coming out of your own mouth, you'd think it was someone else entirely. "Please." For extra measure. 

You'll fuss about begging on another day. When you're not—oh, when you're not...

The tiniest noise stumbles out of Rhett's throat. Music to your fucking ears. You want more of it. 

It takes a moment. Gathering the strength to use the rest of your body. But then you do, and you're deliberately clenching around him, shivering thighs squeezing his pistoning hips as tight as you can, and he whines.

"Fuck, I...I..." Stumbling out of him. Aimless, but it's damn near enough to make you dizzy.

"Uhuh," is all you can utter. Dumb.

Lips collide. Crashing so clumsily that it's a wonder you don't knock a tooth out, nothing but open-mouthed entanglements and tongue. Calling this a kiss would disgrace the very word. Kisses are meant to be elegant. A beautiful sort of dance that no language will ever be able to properly describe. 

Soft little whimpers creep past his defenses. Faint at first, but it's so hard to stop once he starts crying into your mouth when you clench around him once more. You don't know if it's the sound itself or the delicious drag of his cock that sends the wave of heat roaring into your lower belly. Hell, maybe it's both. 

"Sound so fuckin' pretty." He's the one who says it, but you utter it in the back of your mind, too.

This room is so damn hot all of a sudden. A familiar pull has you fluttering around him, spasms that you feel just as much as he does. And he's driving directly into those little nerves so easily that your entire body is beginning to tingle with it, his weeping cock head striking them over and over and over.

Rhett shivers. A bead of sweat runs down his flushed face. "Fuck, I'm—"

"Close!" You blurt. Didn't mean to finish his sentence for him, but it's already out there, and oh, oh, oh.

His motions are quickening, unexpectedly thrown off of his rhythm, only for his hips to slam into you so hard it rocks the headboard. An unfamiliar heat blossoms, and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and—Oh, he's cumming in you. 

That's all it takes. 

Your ears go numb as your back arches. Heart hamming in your chest. Crying out something that you never get to hear as you cum around him without warning. Little sparks firing across your nerves, and for the briefest moment, you think you've been swept up into a twister. Swirling 'round and 'round, nothing but Rhett's sweaty body to keep you from flying away entirely. 

And the storm whispers your name, barely audible over the hammer of your own heart. Echoing as the color drowns to black, warping until you can't no longer hear that, either. 

One of your eyes peeks open. 

Did you fall asleep? 

Because you feel like you fell asleep. Don't quite recall feeling so groggy, gravity weighing heavy on your eyelids, fighting against all odds to stay closed. Your tongue is almost stiff in your mouth, difficult to move. 

Rhett's hand has long since curled around your face, his thumb stroking the thin skin beneath your eye. Delicate. You don't think he's realized you're back yet, so distracted that the proof of it is evident in his face. Those deep blue irises flickering across your face, trailing across your forehead, your cheeks, your bitten lips, cracked and dry from the elements. 

You're far from looking your best. That you know for sure, but something about the way he looks at you...has you feeling like the prettiest thing this side of the country.

The corner of his lip rises the moment your eyes meet. "There ya are."

"I think I fell asleep," you croak. That still doesn't sound like your voice, but there's nowhere else it could be coming from. 

"'s only been a few minutes," pausing to press a kiss to your temple. That might be a faint hickey forming beneath his ear. "had me thinkin' I killed ya."

You can't help but giggle, an image emerging to the forefront of your mind. "Could you imagine having to explain to everyone that your dick killed me?"

His eyes roll as hard as they possibly can. You're almost disappointed that they don't get stuck. "'s not that big."

"You'd sing a very different tune if we could swap places," you mumble, reaching for his hand. So much bigger than yours, you can hardly even cover half of it. 

"Who says we can't?" He says it so...bluntly. 

...is he already implying that pegging is on the table?

You can't find your words. Neither can he. All too quiet as you stare back at each other. 

You crack at the same time. Sputtering into laughter like a pair of dumb kids, collapsing into perfect synchrony as you scramble out of the bed. Don't need to utter a word to Bare feet stumble across horrendously patterned carpet. His hand guiding you along on a one-way race to a too-small bathroom.

You're beginning to realize that cowboys and mechanics are just nerds with a very specific niche. 

There's no way that Rhett is still out there poking at Dallas, running his hands over the different components, pressing on buttons just to see what they'll do if anything at all. Even from the door, you can see the gears twisting and turning in his head, processing every little detail and scratch like it's a work of art he's never laid eyes on before.

Except he has laid eyes on Dallas before. More times than you can count, and that beat-up old thing is far from a work of art. At least it's still prettier than Tyler's rusty old rig over there in the back...

No, it's not there anymore. 

Did they leave already? 

"Where's thing one and thing two?" You hope he doesn't notice the way you waddle across the parking lot, an ache plaguing you with every step. It was cute, the idea of being sore from a night in bed with him, but hell, is the actual experience a lot less romantic to deal with. 

"They ditched us fer a date at some kind of storm chaser convention."

And here you thought Kate would at least give you the luxury of sticking around to tell you where she was going. Better yet, sending a text. 

"A date?" Tilting your head to the side, like that'll somehow make you hear better. 

Rhett presses another button. Every light in the truck turns on. "'s what it looked like on Ty's Instagram story."

You've already dug your phone out of your pocket, thumbs fumbling over each other as you search for your friends. Kate's account is the same as it was three days ago. No new posts since July of last year, but Tyler's...

There they are. Posing in front of the camera, spinning it around to unveil a line up of storm trucks. There has to be at least two dozen of them, sidled up next to each other in a perfect line with little white boxes resting on their hoods. A blurry sign sits behind them, forces you to replay the video and squint in order to read it. 

Voting opens  @ 4 PM.

"You have got to be kidding me," deadpan. Damn, not even an invite? After all that arguing? After yesterday? They wouldn't even have a truck to enter if it weren't for Dallas! 

"Hm?" Rhett blinks at you. If this were a cartoon, he'd have a question mark hovering over his head right now.

You turn the phone around, showing him the video he's already seen. "They entered a competition for the best storm rig in the state!" 

He bites the inside of his cheek, watching it again. After a moment, those big blue eyes flicker up to you. "...we could beat 'em." 

"You think so?" Is this what you're doing now? 

"I know so." Grinning.

They'll never let you hear the end of this. 

And that's exactly why you find yourself bouncing up to him, your hands bracing themselves on his chest as you lean in to steal a kiss from his waiting lips. Curling a fist in his t-shirt, don't even need to tug for him to fall into line, boots thumping along as you dart back into the room. Scrambling to collect your bags, tripping over him in your effort to shove your pajamas back into the suitcase. 

"Who's drivin'?" He giggles, leaning across you to get the room key. 

The answer is obvious. "I am!" 

Kate and Tyler don't realize you're there until it's too late. 

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 山河令/Word of Honor.

Word of Honor is a 2021 adaptation of a novel by priest that tells the story of two beautiful murderers, their three kids, and their collective attempts to ignore the fetchquest madness that has taken over the rest of the jianghu.

Look, you know what Word of Honor is. Doing a rec for this is like doing my rec for Nirvana in Fire -- I am not introducing you to a new concept. Even if you haven't watched it, you've probably osmosed enough through the rest of Tumblr to have an opinion on it. At this point, if you haven't seen Word of Honor, I'm assuming it's for one of two reasons: either you haven't gotten around to it yet, or you haven't been sufficiently moved by what you've seen fandom do with it.

So I'm going to give you five reasons to watch the show, and they're probably not going to be the reasons you've seen already. Not to say that the other reasons are bad, but you've heard them already, right? What I've got for you are five somewhat more unexpected reasons that may just convince the fence-sitters that this nut-flavored morass of toxic relationships is worth your time.

1. No matter how gay you think it is, it's gayer

Okay, sure, you've probably been given the impression that this show is real gay. But I don't know if you know how gay it is. This show is so gay that we still haven't seen many of the other BL-flavored shows filmed around the same time period or since, because Chinese censorship gay-panicked and locked them all away before they could air, because Word of Honor was just too gay.

Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing (L-R above) are in love. The story does not make sense if they're not. There is no story if they're not. Everything else in the show is set dressing to this incredible adventure story of two horrible people who fall for one another.

Oh yeah, did I mention that they're both bad guys? One's a fascist toddler-murderer and the other's a cannibal mob boss. These two deserve one another, in every possible sense of that phrase. In any other property, they'd be the villains -- and even here, they're still kind of the villains! It's just that the heroes are worse.

What's more, their two actors absolutely understood the assignment. They got the memo. They read the book. No one ever had to sit them down midway through shooting and explain their dynamic. They had it from the table read. When given creative freedom, they chose to double down and make the gay shit even gayer.

But the actors weren't the only ones who knew what they were doing! Everybody working on the production was pretty much in full-on Let's Make A BL mode. There are no gay accidents here. It's so gay that it's actually gayer than the version that aired. If you can do a little lip-reading (though beware of spoilers in those links), you can get at the original filmed version, which had a number of lines that were too homo and/or sexual for Chinese television.

No, they don't kiss. They don't have to. This is the TV version of the tweet about, what's gayer, gay sex or whatever these two have going on? The answer is, whatever these two have going on.

It's so gay that they're not the only gays. No, I'm not going to tell you who the other gays are, in part because spoilers. But trust me, they're there. Lesbians too! And a bisexual elderly polycule! And one pair of hets that we love love love, and most other heterosexuals are creepy and gross. And if that's not an accurate representation of how the world looks to queer people, I don't know what to tell you.

2. Go nuts!

You are not prepared for the product placement.

Word of Honor started off having a budget, so they went ahead and started spending that budget in the way you do when you're making a TV show. Unfortunately, circumstances changed, and their budget became much less, which meant they couldn't keep making that TV show unless they got more dollars. But where to get a sponsor for a fairly low-profile wuxia BL property?

Enter our hero: Wolong Nuts.

I have seen actors do bumper ads in costume for products from their various sponsors, and I have seen actors do bumper ads in character for the same. But the feeling of seeing a modern product diegetically hawked mid-scene by ancient fantasy characters is like none other.

Something like 40% of Word of Honor's total budget came from this nut sponsorship. And here the thing: It worked! It sold nuts! Hell, I’d buy them if they were sold anywhere near me; I like nuts in general, and nuts that support the queers in particular.

I'm including this as a selling point because, come on, it's funny as hell. But it's also a good place to warn you that Word of Honor has what we're politely going to call a spotty use of its funds. Some things, like everyone's outfits and the score, are lavish and beautiful. Other things, like some of the sets and a lot of the CG, are janky and sad. Crowd scenes are thirty humans and a bunch of Blender assets. I've never seen so many fake plastic trees together in one place before. There's a lot of visible hairnets. Like, a lot.

The show was originally planned as being 45 episodes long. It wound up being 36 + a tiny epilogue. That's a huge cut! I’ll say to its credit that you mostly can’t feel the seams; the production team did a heroic job killing their darlings (in many senses) while keeping the narrative coherent. If you know about the original vision, though, you can identify pretty quickly where the excised material should have been. Don’t be surprised when the last two episodes in particular smack you like a hit-and-run.

They blew a truly unwise amount of the budget on costumes in general, and Wen Kexing's costumes in particular, and thank goodness. (@canary3d-obsessed has done a noble job of cataloging everyone's wardrobes, and some of the details are just stunning.) See that red outfit he's wearing there, with the elaborate, delicate embroidery? That apparently took two people literal months to hand-sew. It's a terrible use of limited funds, and I am living for it. Even when Wen Kexing looks awful, he looks stunning -- especially when you put him side by side with Zhou Zishu, who is wearing the jianghu equivalent of slutty yoga pants and a thrift-store dollar-bin t-shirt that says IT'S WINE O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE.

So if, while you’re watching, you’re ever disappointed by the quality of the production in front of you, just console yourself by thinking: That’s nut money, baby.

3. The ghosts (and everyone else) doing the mosts

This is a show that somehow managed to accumulate a tremendous supporting cast of actual grown-ass adults, then had the wisdom to make them play a wide variety of balls-to-the-wall bonkers roles.

You can't throw a rock in a crowd scene without hitting a dozen actors with resumes as long as their arms, who have been acting since before you were born. Apparently they poached a couple veteran film and stage actors from other contemporaneous productions and had them come over to film bit parts on their days off. If you see a character played by an older actor who's getting more lines and face time than you think their character strictly deserves relative to their importance to the plot, and you're like, hm, I wonder if this older actor has a career that includes roles in several dozen other shows and/or stage productions, the answer is yes.

I've seen the tone of the show described as melodramatic, but I don't think that's quite it -- it's more operatic. People speak to the middle distance and play to the back row. Several actors have the body language and line delivery that makes it seem like they're always about three words away from breaking into song. Several of my favorites are downright camp. It's magnificent.

Statistically, everyone in this show is a bad guy. There are the respectable people who don't mean to be bad guys, but wind up being bad guys anyway because they support bullshit systems. There are the morally grey folk who are willing to become bad guys because they think they'll be the good guys when all is said and done. And there are the bad guys who know they're bad guys and are going to chew every piece of scenery in the vicinity about it, so watch out.

My favorite collection of scene-stealing weirdos is probably the clutch of freaks that make up the ghosts of Ghost Valley. They're not actual ghosts -- this is not a supernatural show. They are instead living people who call themselves ghosts because they've found themselves on the margins of society for one reason or another, and have created their own little society! With hookers! And blackjack! And also a little murder, as a treat!

These ghosts are so extra that they actually have a Top Ten List, where all the ones that have code names and specific costumes hang out. How do you get on the Top Ten List? By killing one or more of the people already on it, of course! I told you these guys are villains! They're not even the only villains! They're not even the only villain organization! It's wall-to-wall bad guys around here! And oh my goodness, the actors are clearly having a ball with it.

When the screenwriter came to adapt Faraway Wanderers (the novel) into Word of Honor, she realized that there weren't a whole lot of ladies in the book -- so she invented/adapted some for the show and made most of them sinister! (In fact, if you watch Legend of Fei -- and you should watch Legend of Fei -- you can see a lot of the inspiration for said ladies.) Some of the female characters in the show were men in the book, while others weren't even in the book at all. They all feel organic, though, and not like someone was trying to get Strong Female Character Points. It's the good representation you get when there's a lot of representation, so nobody has to be The Girl, and all the girls can just be people.

...Alas that another casualty of the budget cuts is that several of the lady characters did not get to live up to their full ass-kicking potential. But that potential is still there! The badassery may be implicit instead of explicit, but you don't doubt that many of these women would eat your heart at the slightest provocation, and you would thank them while they were doing it.

This show is perfect food if you're the kind of viewer liable to get sucked up into the worlds of villains, NPCs, bit parts, optional side characters, and other narratives going on outside the main storyline. Because there's a lot going on outside the main storyline. I mean, that's kind of the running joke of the whole novel, that there's this whole complicated political plot happening, and yet our dudes are over here studiously trying to not know what the hell is going on. Obviously that's harder to preserve in a show, but it's still a key feature of the narrative. Most of the Big Power Play What-Not is always happening a few towns over from where the main party is at any given moment. I know people who've watched the drama several times and still can't explain whatever's happening with all that. That's fine. You roll with it for the sake of everything else.

So! Do you like gazing upon delightful character actors and having imagination adventures about the unexplored workings of a bunch of tantalizingly mysterious and often very sexy weirdos? Great! This will keep you busy for a good long while.

4. The juciest pining in the jianghu

I said I wasn't going to tell you about all the gay shit going on here, and I'm not. What I do want to cover, however, is how much gay shit isn't going on here -- and by that I mean just how much of the show's gay longing is unrequited. If you like it when the boy yearns for the other boy, friend, you will feast well tonight.

You have likely already, through fandom, been alerted to the existence of the biggest gremlin in the land and an understandable number of people's favorite character, immortal grandpa Ye Baiyi. What may not have been conveyed, however, is just how tragically gay this bitch is. The ultra-condensed, scrubbed-for-spoilers version of his backstory is that he was in love with a guy who got injured because of him, so he decided to stay and live on a mountain with that guy and the guy's wife and coparent their son with them, all the while never once telling the guy how he felt.

This is not me with slash goggles on. This is canon. Well, okay, the "in love with" part is only confirmed in the book, but Huang Youming, Ye Baiyi's equally gremlin-like actor, has also clearly done the reading and understands how to break your heart with it. Ugh, it's so good.

Shidifuckers, rejoice! Zhou Zishu has Han Ying, his devoted little dumpling who would -- and does -- do anything for him. Back in Zhou Zishu's regrettable (but very fashionable) fascist days, he had a bunch of little underlings; one of them was Han Ying, who still works for the same evil empire. Problem is, Han Ying isn't evil. He was never loyal to his job; he was always just loyal to Zhou Zishu. It's cute the way Wen Kexing hisses like a cat upon meeting Han Ying and immediately identifying him as a rival for Zhou Zishu's affections. If you like OTPs that occasionally roll in a service-top third, please consider that adorable muffin boy up there.

And speaking of quitting your job, have you ever had the problem where you had to orchestrate your own death to get away from your toxic boss who won't stop sexually harassing you, and that motherfucker still expects you to show up for your shift next weekend? Meet Prince Jin, who has refused to accept Zhou Zishu's resignation letter with extreme prejudice.

Zhou Zishu isn't even the only ex he's mad he drove off! But that's just a namedrop in the show; see my bonus selling point for instructions on how to get into that whole gay-ass story. [insert obligatory "Prince Jin is not Helian Yi" disclaimer here]

...Nope, uh-uh, we're not going to get into what's going on with Scorpy. Suffice it to say, this is one of those cases where the show can't outright call a thing gay (though uhhhh it sure can imply a lot of it!), but it can set up an unspoken Gay Bad Idea as a direct, textual parallel with a canon Straight Bad Idea and be like, see? see? Anyway, daddy's boy there has deliciously terrible taste. This is the one that'll have you screaming crying throwing up etc.

And then there's this handsome jackass, who isn't doing the pining, but is the unfortunately heterosexual object of the often confused and misdirected longings of his friends. About the first thing you know about Rong Xuan is that he died before the series begins, so you only see him in a few flashbacks. The precious few times you do, though, you're treated to scenes of him holding court among his besties (many of whom are the spectacularly cast younger versions of major older male characters) while they all wrestle with varying degrees of homo longing for his cocky dreamboat self. You ever wanted to fuck a straight guy so bad you got both him and his wife killed about it? Because somebody in this drama sure has!

I sense you think I'm making this all up, that I'm just a fujoshi looking at the world through rainbow-colored glasses and telling you about her favorite slash pairings. Friend, I am not. Okay, I am being a little cheeky about the last one, but I swear that everything else I have listed in this selling point is about as textual as the show could make it, if not outright straight (ha ha) from the books.

(I have a whole separate theory about how priest herself is a real-life queer, based on how basically everyone in her works is either queer-coded or a token straight who's on thin ice, but that's a subject for a completely different Tumblr post no one's ever going to read, so save us both the time and imagine I already wrote it.)

I cannot stress to you enough how much this show knew what it was doing with the queer stuff. I love how amazingly toxic so much of it is, too, because one of the big themes of the show is that secrets will destroy you and everyone you love. If you have gay longing in a society that forces you to hide that gay longing, yeah, you're going to be extra-vulnerable to making some shitty decisions because of it! You're either going to suffocate yourself by keeping silent, or you're going to open yourself to intimate partner abuse you can't reveal to anyone else, or you're going to do some murders about it! Or some combination of the three! Either way, it's not good!

Also, tell your partner about your chronic health conditions, whether they be Can't Remember My Past, Would Eat A Guy If I Had The Opportunity, Stuck Some Nails In My Chest And Am Now Dying And Also Can't Get A Boner, or Whoops Took The Nails Out Of My Chest And Still Can't Get A Boner. Oh, and tell your partner if you're about to run off and go confront your dangerous ex. And absolutely tell your partner if you're about to fake your own death. Just ... learn to have conversations with the people who love you, okay? Avoid huge amounts of narrative suffering with this one weird trick!

5. Putting his whole Zhang Zhehussy into it

See, Gong Jun (playing Wen Kexing) is not what I'd call a great actor. This is more of a case where you take a guy, you cast him as a character whose motivation can be summed up as "I want to fuck that man in half," and then you cast opposite him a man that the guy in question clearly actually wants to fuck in half. And you let the magic work.

Zhang Zhehan (playing Zhou Zishu), however, legitimately knocks it entirely out of the park. Whenever the camera's on him, it's hard to take your eyes off him. He holds his own in a sea of veteran actors. He can do comedy and tragedy with equal panache. It's lucky he's such a beautiful crier, because Zhou Zishu cries so much. I have never seen someone more perfectly portray the mood of "in love and absolutely furious about it."

As the story goes, when he auditioned, he actually wanted to play Wen Kexing -- but the director told him, look, while you'd be great at that, I can find another Wen Kexing, but I'm never going to find another Zhou Zishu.

Zhou Zishu is bad man who has done terrible things and resigned himself to suffering to atone for his crimes, and he is so mad to find himself at the end of his life suddenly having a reason to keep living. Zhang Zhehan does a pitch-perfect tsundere right up to the point where he breaks. I'm not going to call it an understated performance, because nothing in this show is understated, but it is often times subtle and always complex, and fuck does he have a good crazy grin.

One of the first things you find out about Zhou Zishu is that he's got just a couple years left to live, over which time all his senses are going to deteriorate. In fact, they've already started going. And as the show goes on, you can watch Zhang Zhehan play it so you can tell when he's missed something he should otherwise have picked up on, reacting to noises and touches a split-second late. It's a testament to what a thoughtful job Zhang Zhehan's doing, keeping track of how much of Zhou Zishu has already slipped away.

There are, if you've read the book, legitimate complaints to be made about the adaptation's interpretation of Zhou Zishu's character, and I get that. But you can't say that Zhang Zhehan isn't pulling off exactly what he means to here. I say this too as someone who loves the novel: I think it works. Given the constraints of Chinese television in particular and cinematic adaptations in general, the show made the right choices when it came to figuring out what were the more filmable, actable options, and Zhang Zhehan plays every one of those choices within an inch of his life.

Also did I mention he's like the most beautiful man to ever exist? Holy crap. You're going to be so mad about what they do to his face for the first several episodes.

Don't worry, it washes off eventually.

caveat: Kind of a bummer!

You may have been warned that this one's got a sad ending. Well ... yes and no. On the "no" side of things, there's a "secret" mini-episode 37 that rolls back one of the major points of tragedy. (It's also clearly the first version that got shot, and then they shuffled around and redubbed some material to make the aired end of episode 36.)

But oh man, not all of them. Plenty of characters we love do not make it to the end. Like ... kind of a shockingly large number. Some are dispatched offscreen, some have tragic onscreen deaths, some are probably dead given the circumstances we last see them in, and a couple aren't dead yet but are almost certainly going to be soon.

(It's also kind of a meta-bummer! I mean, I don't recommend falling down the rabbit hole of what happened with Zhang Zhehan's career after the show aired, but tl;dr, it's not great.)

So yeah, it's not an outright pain simulator, and if you've got the mettle for Nirvana in Fire or Guardian, you should be okay here. But hoo boy, don't just blunder on in expecting a cheerful romp from start to finish, because ... yeah. I said it before: This is a story about a bunch of bad guys. Bad guys don't live long lives, nor do the good people who get tangled up in their shit. Just be prepared!

bonus selling point: black and white husbands

Okay, I will tell you who one of the other pairs of gays is. You'll see the two of them show up near the tail end of the show, and then you'll decide you want to know more about what their whole deal is, and then you'll read Qi Ye, which is a novel entirely about gay pining, and then it'll be all over for you.

Ready to wander this way?

There's a number of ways to watch this one! Viki, Netflix, YouTube, and Amazon Prime all have you covered -- but Viki's the only one that has the epilogue at the ready, so I'd go there if you can.

And I get it, if you're enough of an aging hipster that you don't want to play in the same sandbox everybody else is playing in. Believe me, I understand that impulse on a visceral level. After all, this is not a small fandom -- 7718 works on AO3 (at time of writing) isn't Untamed levels of content, but it's nothing to sneeze at. Maybe you want to leave this one for a little while longer, until the hubbub dies down a bit more and people's attention is redirected by a different gay and shiny thing. That's valid. I get it.

But if you do, I still encourage you to get around to it someday. For all its flaws -- and yeah, it's got flaws -- it's a good, solid story that makes you feel lots of feelings about some fascinating characters in some beautiful costumes, running around being real queer (and okay, occasionally straight) to beautiful music. This, to me, is television.

Fun fact! There is also a Japanese dub, if you feel like taking it at that speed, and the guy who voices Zhou Zishu is the voice of Kaworu from Evangelion, and the guy who voices Wen Kexing is the voice of Victor Nikiforov from Yuri on Ice. See what I mean???

I'm telling you, everybody ships it.

[maleyanderecafe]

Hi! I've been craving some yandere content that's not manga, webtoon, manwa, etc. Do you have recommendations that are movies, tv shows, maybe some kdrama too? Just not manga, anime and the sort.

Sorry this one took a kabillion years to answer. Back in October, Cherry and I basically had a yandere movie month where we would just watch a bunch of movies that were labeled as Male Yandere movies because horror month (which is unfortunate for me because I don't really like horro movies). Anyways, besides the short list here that has some TV shows, here's some stuff we watched. Some of this will be later put in as recommendations, probably on Tuesdays.

Hush Little Baby- we're going to start out with some lifetime movies because they're low calorie and turn off brain fun to watch. About a neighbor kid who comes in to babysit the main character's kid only to cause problems to the entire family.

Swim at Your Own Risk- another lifetime movie. About a swim team girl who has a fling with the swim couch after taking a break with her boyfriend. Things go wrong as the swim couch gets obsessed with her.

You Belong to Me - another lifetime movie. About a lady who finds out that someone is stalking her and tries to figure out who it is after they try to murder her boyfriend.

Addicted/Obsessed- Addicted is the korean movie and Obsessed is the English remake. About twins, one of which is married to the female lead, where they both have an accident. The husband dies, however, the other seems to have been possessed by the husband.

LadyHawke - older movie, but the yandere is the main villain. About a main character who escapes prison and finds a couple who is cursed to turn into a wolf and hawk respectively during the day and night, fated to never be together.

Well Intentioned Love- Chinese drama, though the yandere portion only really shows up in the first season. About a girl who has lukemia and has to have a contract marriage with the only person who can give her a doner bone marrow match. Driver is best character.

Disco Pigs- Pretty surreal movie in some cases. About two childhood friends, Pig and Runt who love each other as Pig becomes more and more obsessed with her as the movie goes on.

Labyrinth - I probably won't write a recommendation for this one because the yandere portion really only shows up in the song, but it's still a fun movie with David Bowie. I even read the comic for it just to check but the yandere portion seems to only show up in the song.

The Boy - I actually watched this with another friend that was obsessed with wallmen, but its a pretty fun movie overall. I think most people know this one though. About a lady who moves in and babysits a doll while trying to escape her abusive ex.

Within - also another movie I watched with my wallmen obsessed friend. About a family that moves into a house that turns out to be haunted in one way or another.

What If…Dr. Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands? - Sorcerer Supreme in general in general seems like a yandere since his entire goal is to just bring back Christine at all costs. He also just generally shows up in other episodes of the What If? Series.

Heathers - I heard the movie version isn't nearly as yandere, but the musical version is for sure.

Phantom of the Opera- I'm kind of cheating with this one because it's like one of the OG male yandere stuff, but hey, if you haven't heard or watched it yet, well you know.

That's about it for now since usually Cherry and I don't watch a ton of movies. Might change after a while, but we'll see. Maybe in February we'll try to have a tv drama month to watch stuff.

[masterqwertster]

For the hurt/Comfort class list, how about rouge scout with Ashton and Chetney?

Subclass Hurt/Comfort Prompt Rogue Scout: Going on a rescue mission and seeing something they’d really rather not have seen. I'm skipping out on the "rescue mission" part of the prompt, mostly because the interesting "rather not have seen" thing that hit me didn't really play nice with that bit. Should still be very fun though.

"You sure about this?" Chetney asks from where he's crouched amongst the rubble, looking back at Ashton. "It might not be what you're looking for."

A sigh. "I'm not looking for a specific answer, old man. I just– I wanna know if they meant to do this and botched the landing, or if it was a fucking accident that was 'fated' to happen. There's no right fucking answer, just what actually happened."

Chetney nods, accepting their answer.

"Alright then. Time for some Pock O'Pea magic!" he declares, rubbing his hands together before slapping them down on the ground of the long abandoned Hishari ritual site.

Magic rushes through Chetney's cursed (by wolf and by Bane) blood, resonating with the stone beneath his hands and the tragedy they bore witness to.

There's just the feelings of pain, fear, and disappointment.

"Shit. Sorry, I'm not getting much out of it," Chetney says, shaking his hands out as he stands back up. "Just impressions of pain and fear and shit."

"Fuck!" Ashton hisses, kicking a rock and wandering away to further curse their luck out and kick more rocks.

Chetney feels a little bad about failing to get anything that Ashton didn't already know out of it. Kid knew shit went bad, so the emotional impressions aren't any help. And fuck if they don't deserve some answers that aren't tilted through the lens of someone who helped set this shit up. It's why they haven't gone back to Evontra'vir, or sought out other survivors of Hishari. (Well, they're also avoiding other survivors at the moment since Ashton doesn't want them to potentially try to revive the fucking cult around him. Which apparently the one he had met during Bells Hells' involuntary solstice separation seemed ready to do even without knowing a titan shard was sitting in front of her)

"What if I gave you a little Guidance and you tried a different spot? Do you think you could maybe get something then?" Fearne softly asks, doe eyes flickering between Ashton's tense form and Chetney's relaxed one beside her.

"Dunno. Worth a try though, I guess," Chetney quietly answers with a sniff.

"Hey, rock for brains! Think you can pick out where you were standing for this shit? Might be worth trying to take a read there," Chetney shouts at Ashton's slightly distant form.

The glare he gets is grumpy and insulted, of course. But there's also a faint flicker of hope in those gemstone eyes too as they motion Chetney and Fearne over.

It takes them a little while and some wandering before Ashton hesitantly decides they've found the right spot.

"A kiss for luck?" Chetney asks, batting his eyes and looking to Fearne for that Guidance she'd suggested. And gets surprised when a kiss lands on each cheek at the same time.

Chet's not gonna lie, it's pretty hot.

"Didn't think you were interested, Ashton," Chetney preens. What? The barbarian is hot and Chetney's not dead (yet).

"You're trying this because of me, so since you wanted a kiss, figured I might as well pay up," Ashton answers with a shrug, neither confirming nor denying their actual stance.

Chetney huffs, slaps his hands to his kissed cheeks, rubs them together to get the juices going, and then presses them to the ground, magic thrumming through his veins once more.

And fuck does it work.

His vision washes red, and when it clears, there's people dressed, and getting dressed, in ceremonial garb and leathers rushing about, a frantic excitement to them. A glowing gateway sparking in the center of all the activity as what he can only guess are ritual materials are spread out around it, symbols and sigils being marked upon the ground. Like they hadn't planned for the moment to be now, but had some wherewithal to be ready to begin anyways.

And Chetney catches a glimpse of the only child among the preparations, held close to a woman's side. Ashton. With soft, tan skin and dark, actual hair.

"It begins."

And there is a crystal that Chetney knows must be the Shard of Ka'Mort that now rests within Ashton, held in an elven man's trembling hands, his bones audibly cracking in Chetney's wolfen ears from the force it exerts. He walks it towards the gateway as chanting around them crescendos–

The elven man flies through the air, limbs fluttering like cloth as every bone within him seems to be shattered. The Shard rests upon the ground. Earth that heaves and quakes under the touch of primordial power. The child (Ashton) rushes forward, having slipped free of the woman's restraining hold. They try to pick up the crystal, maybe to attempt continuing the ritual, maybe to bring it to what Chetney knows is the corpse of Hishari's leader (Ashton's father).

But the Shard crumples inwards, shattering. And Ashton screams.

The earth roars, jagged rocks breaching the ground in rugged spikes. Shudders and shakes as cracks and chasms spider out from where the child version of Ashton has hit their knees, still crying out.

Some of the gathered Hishari rush towards Ashton, only to lose their footing to the quaking, splitting earth, crushed by the grinding stones. Others make it closer to Ashton, only to be flung back by the sheer magical force pulsing out from him, their bodies bonelessly flying through the air along with shattered rocks.

And Chetney watches as the woman that held Ashton close pushes forward. How their tear stained face turns to her pleading for comfort, child to mother (Ashton had mentioned before that she was here this day). And he sees sorrow and determination in her eyes as she gathers magic in her hands, incantation spilling from her lips. They vanish, leaving aftershocks to rock the region and claim more lives.

Chetney gasps as he comes out of the vision.

That– Fuck. It's– Fuck.

He can tell Ashton that Hishari hadn't meant to make him titan-blooded. That's easy. It's half expected. They either meant to make Ashton that way or they didn't, you know?

But the destruction that happened. How it happened. Chetney's not sure how well they'll handle that. Fuck. He kind of wishes he didn't know about that. Ashton was just a kid. They didn't ask for it. Probably didn't even know what was really happening, much less have any ability to control it. That unfortunately didn't change that a lot of people had died that day and Ashton could, kinda sorta, if you were a little too literal, be blamed for those deaths.

And knowing Ashton, they would blame themself. Because they were trying to be all responsible and shit about how their own actions dug their hole. But again, this really wasn't something that should be pinned on Ashton, so it would probably be easier to just... not tell them.

"Well?" Ashton demands, just a little unsure note to his voice.

"They didn't mean to make you," Chetney reports with a shrug. "And a lot people died in that mess."

"Could you tell what they were actually trying to do?"

"Not really. They seemed to be scrambling just to get setup, so it's not like I got to see an opening speech or anything. Just a guy holding what I'm pretty sure was the Shard walking toward a portal or some shit before everything went to shit."

Ashton nods, not pressing for any more than that. Though Chetney can see the glint in Fearne's eye that says his decision to omit some details has been clocked.

But that's fine. Chetney can trust her to help him bring this to Ashton in the right way, if at all.

Did some rolls for this. Set a DC10 for a vision, DC 15 to get some for more. Chet's first attempt at Grim Psychometry was a 6+3 (the other d20 was a Nat 1 😥), so fail on both counts. Second roll was a Nat 20(+1+3), so lots of speculation on my end for what happened with the ritual. So. Ep34 there was a description of a glowing gateway and that everyone was basically scrambling to get the show on the road. I'm presuming Hishari was waiting for this portal to happen to get on with their ritual, but didn't know exactly when it would appear. Otherwise, why the rush? Why weren't they doing it nice and steady? Next, according to Evontra'vir, Efterin didn't know he was meant to make Ashton titan-blooded, and honestly it sounded like Efterin tried to be the Heir of Ka'Mort himself. So whatever the Hishari needed that portal for as part of their ritual, Efterin was doing it. Until he wasn't. Ashton had to get from the sidelines to somewhere in there somehow. And then somebody or something had to teleport Ashton out of Hishari and to the Hellcatch Valley. It probably wasn't Ashton, since he didn't have any space skills yet and isn't really a titan thing. So I made it his mom. Either her body is buried in/by the sands and stone of the Hellcatch, or she managed to drop Ashton where no one else was in the splash zone while getting out herself and never got back to him. Not really sure which way to swing. Ashton doesn't remember because ~trauma~

[angelphonia]

Okay, I've been binge watching the Stop!!Hibari-kun anime and I've got some thoughts I need to let out.

Firstly, watching the anime makes me appreciate the Manga a hundred times more. Sure, the Manga had its problems, mostly the racism and the casual homophobia jokes and transphobia, but you could save stuff from it, like that even though there were homophobic jokes there was a gay woman who wasn't mocked because of her attraction to Hibari, or that despite the transphobia Hibari was never outright shown as being wrong by being herself.

Now, the anime does a lot of things I dislike. Firstly they make Kosaku's reactions be way more negative than in the Manga. While yes, he reacts negatively he is also seen blushing a lot when Hibari flirts with him. I may need to read the Manga for fourth time, but I also don't remember Kosaku constantly mentioning Hibari is a "guy" everytime she did anything.

There is a lot much more racism in the anime. There were problems with this in the Manga but it just feels way more present in the anime.

This one doesn't bother me too much, but I'm pretty sure the chapters do not align with the Manga, but again, this doesn't bother me.

I also noticed way more incest jokes, I don't care about them. Also the Seiji chapter where he falls in love with one of Hibari's bullies when she's 15 and Seiji is around 25/30 is very questionable. Again, this is a work of fiction so while I was like "why isn't this seen wrong?" I wasn't really uncomfortable. I do gotta say that in the Manga when the Japanese mob grown manchild son asked for Hibari's hand in marriage, it was inmediatly said he was 28 and Hibari was super taken aback. This doesn't happen in the anime, his age is NEVER mentioned. I can't quite remember, but I am sure Hibari also doesn't go on a date with him.

Oof, but here we go with the thing that has bothered me the most. The REALLY bad erasure of Jun's story. They absolutely took away her lesbianism, making it seem as if she was only interested in Hibari because of her volleyball abilities. They also totally changed the episode and made Jun be deeply ashamed of her family, that while in the Manga she was a bit embarassed it wasn't a main focus. In the Anime it was, even making her leave the volleyball club, which is crazy to me. Oh, and I'm NOT forgetting that they made Hibari enjoy getting gropped in the bus, when in the Manga she was clearly just disgusted by it.

I haven't finished it yet, may edit this post with more complains. Positive things? I'm sure Seiji and Sabu didn't have names in the Manga, so now they have identities. They try and give them more backstory, even adding an eye scar to Sabu, which was appreciated. Hibari's voice is absolutely the cutest. I liked the wrestling episode. Oh, the episode with Hibari's mother and her father was a delight, she didn't express this much emotion in the Manga, so actually seeing how she feels was great, and her end interaction with her father was adorable.

Can't remember anything more rn. As a side note, I've developed a little crush on Sabu and I'm gonna draw him. Hope you enjoyed my rambling!

EDIT:

Remembered the Honda thing. In the Anime he almost reaches his 1000 girls flirted with, but with one it is half a girl. In the Manga this was because he looked at a 5 year old by accident and she fell in love, while in the anime they made it so he flirted with a new half. For those who don't know, new half is an old Japanese term for transgender people, mostly trans women who were post op. In the subtitles this is translated as crossdresser, which I don't like. This isn't the first time this term is mentioned, in the spartan son episode, he calls Hibari a new half, which Kosaku tells him to not do. In another chapter there is a trans woman, and she refers to herself as New half, which again is incorrectly translated to crossdresser for some reason.

Even then there was some sort of minimal knowledge of trans people, not only with this, but in the Manga the addition of Genkijirou being a canonical trans man in hormones. Eguchi was aware and while his first idea was to make Hibari a feminine man, it obviously end up with her being a trans woman.

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 167

YO PROPS TO WITCH!!!

Hm, I wonder how Leelathae writes in her diary? I mean, does she write them in just dialogue, or narrative, or what? Either she is writes in dialogue, or she described the witch pretty well for Gwen to recognize who the witch is.

I mean, I didn't expect these ingredients, but sure. Does this imply there's a cemetery near The Pastel Kingdom? Cause Leelathae isn't allowed to be far from home, right? And I doubt she would ask someone to get dirt from cemetery for her...

I wonder what Leelathae plan was? Cause she didn't get the chance to execute it since her portrait was stolen by Leland. Or maybe she did execute it while in the Plaid Kingdom?

I agree with the witch so much. The painters fr did Leelathae dirty 💀

THE WITCH WASN'T LYING. SHE DOES LOOK COOL AF. LIKE. BRO?? HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE.

Huh. How does the ingredient turn into a paint-like liquid?? None of the ingredients are liquid based. Maybe the dirt?

This whole spell thing is sick man. It's so dang cool!! I wonder if anyone notices Leelathae sparkling?? I mean, one of the maids has got to notice right?

Also I've never knew there's tea inside snickerdoodles (chai is tea, right?). Well, it's not like I've ever tried snickerdoodles, but last time I read the recipe, I don't remember tea being in the recipe. But that was years ago so it might just be my memory.

Well, the mystery of the portrait is finally solved! And yet there's another mystery.. what writing did Leelathae put behind her portrait? Yes, the diary is one of them, but there are other things too. Like those brown and green papers. I'm guessing it's a message toward her kids?

Ohh, that's why!! Leelathae was glowy because of the spell!

BRUH SO WAS IT LIKE, A MISUNDERSTANDING THIS WHOLE TIME?? I did kinda predict it in my really old post, but I was joking T_T

Something's kinda bothering me about what Leelathae said in her 3rd wish. Why is she only talking about her daughters? What about Jamie? Or is there a hidden meaning that I am not getting here? If someone would enlighten me, that would be nice.

Aw. It's actually pretty sweet when you think about how they didn't even know how to speak to each other at first, but they still fell in love with each other <3

Oh. Oohhh....okay. This doesn't justify what Leland is doing right now, but it sure give a big reason for it. Yikes. Damn. That must've hurt.

Okay okay, let me just remember the past episodes to realize all the causes here.

Leland's parents died due to tragic carriage accident (didn't a carriage accident happen more than once? Tho I can't remember to who besides Leland's parents)

His best friend, Jack, didn't arrive to Leland's parents' funeral, which is the moment he needed him the most (not Jack's fault though, since he was literally stranded in an island)

Leland obviously has a little crush on Jack, which is why it hurts him when he found out Jack brought Leelathae to Pastel Kingdom (again, not Jack's fault). I think this is where he jealousy starts, the point where Leland thinks he has to be better at every love things than Jack.

He overheard Jack saying he didn't need him, which is probably the nail in the coffin for Leland. I mean that monologue Leland has? That's kinda internal mental breakdown right there. (I gotta say, this scenario is kindaaa similar to Gwen overhearing Frederick calls her ugly. I wouldn't say it's the exact same thing of course. It's just the overhearing that makes it similar)

So! Looking at these 4 reasons, it is highly likely that Leland has some problems (no shit sherlock). HEAR ME OUT. I don't know what it is yet. I was thinking of abandonment issues, but I have yet to read much about it, so i'm not sure yet.

HAH! Glad Leelathae decided to haunt his dreams tho!

OH SHIT OH SHIT. NAH LELAND NAHHHH. HE BETTER NOT. ....well at the time i'm writing this the next episode is already out so.. guess we're gonna find out...IN THE NEXT REVIEW!!

Yeah I haven't read the episode yet lol. I bet it's gonna be chaotic though.

That's it for now, until next time.

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

[queeoretician]

Initial thoughts on The Unwanted Guest below the cut:

Well, damn. There sure is a lot going on here, and I'm all about it.

Front and centre is the concept of the permeability of the soul, and there's so damn much to chew on around that. Then we have Dulcie! Dulcie! She and Pal finally get to talk, both dead but still kicking! She would have liked Gideon! And we get more direct insight into Ianthe's psychology, which is a nasty little treat.

The first place my mind went was to Paul - if Pal and Cam were already experiencing memory transference, then maybe they saw some kind of soul merger as inevitable, and that was another push towards doing it intentionally, doing it right. But writing it down now I'm less sure of that inference. And the fact that Pal and Dulcie got to talk, really talk, was both wonderful and all the more bittersweet if (I'm assuming) Pal's and Cam's individual souls no longer exist to reunite with Dulcie in Alecto. I have to say, when I first read Nona I didn't really get why people found the birth of Paul to be so sad, but I've come around on it since then. (I should write more about that sometime...)

Regarding the permeability of Ianthe's soul, one thing that occurred to me is that her genderfuckery vibes over the past two books are probably not Ianthe Tridentarius's identity, but a new thing formed of the (imbalanced) gestalt that is Ianthe Naberius. I really hope Alecto gives us more on gender and lyctorhood and soul permeability! I imagine this is all the more jarring for Ianthe with how she's so deeply anchored to her relationship with Corona, to find her ego boundaries to be permeable in relation to Babs. I firmly believe her shell-shocked reaction to the birth of Paul was at least in part her thinking "oh shit, did I eat the wrong person?" If she had wanted this kind of erosion of self with anyone (and I'm not sure she did), it would have been Corona. Having it happen with Babs by accident is a real slap in the face.

Which brings me back to my wild theory for Alecto - Corona will (at least try to) pull a Paul with Judith, and Ianthe will utterly lose her shit. This story really underscored just how little Ianthe understands her sister, which we already saw some of in the embassy scene. Sure, Corona isn't the flawless sword hand that Babs was, but in BoE she's shown herself to be a canny operator and a decent fighter, which Ianthe is steadfastly in denial of. At the end of the day I believe the story of Ianthe will be of someone who loved without understanding, who put her love up on a pedestal and at the same time belittled her as someone both more and less than she actually was.

Another thing that I latched onto was the argument about whether lyctors' cavaliers' souls provide a truly perpetual source of energy or not. Ianthe was pretty adamant that they do, but that honestly came across as arrogance or bravado. There's a strong parallel between lyctoral power and nuclear power, and all kinds of nuclear activity eventually reach a point past which they no longer emit appreciable energy, so I feel confident in saying that lyctoral power also diminishes over a long enough timespan. I'm less sure of whether this will come up in Alecto, though - I would be quite surprised if we saw a 100,000-year timeskip (but if we did that could be super fucking interesting).

Back to more direct applications of soul permeability, I have to imagine there's been some exchange of something between Jod and Alecto, at least before he locked her in the Tomb. That could go in all kinds of interesting directions that I haven't yet had a chance to contemplate adequately.

Speaking of Alecto, the John chapters of Nona seem like a pretty clear case of transference between her and Harrow. I wonder - were those happening concurrently with the Nona chapters? If so, it would make for a nice symmetry between Harrow and Alecto/Nona.

Either way, we've got a gross messy soul transference hookup graph with Gideon<-->Harrow<-->Alecto<-->John (gross) - I'm dying to know more about what this means for each of them (especially with Tazmuir's "if Gideon's soul is a happy meal" line from this interview).

So as usual, Aaaaaaa there's so much to chew on and so much more I want to know and I can't wait for Alecto aaaaaa...

[blueraineshadows]

Are you still taking requests? Can we have some soft Leander x f!MC? Love your fic btw!

Thank you for the love 💜

I do take requests, my inbox is open ✨️

Leander Prewett x F!MC - fluff ♥️

This is following on from The Value of Kindness when Leander was sweet to MC after he found her crying.

A high breeze ruffled his hair as Leander entered the Owlery, letter in hand. He whistled for the gentle barn owl and it landed on his arm. "There you go, take this to mother for me," he said. He gave the bird an affectionate scratch under the chin before it took off into the breeze.

Garreth was waiting outside for him on the steps, picking at a scorch mark on the cuff of his jumper. Leander raised an eyebrow. "Not another ruined jumper, your mum is going to tear you a new one," he said.

Garreth just shrugged and smiled. "I'm going to try and mend this one, it should work this time," he said. "I still haven't told my mum about the one I accidently disintegrated."

They began the long descent back towards school. Leander was hungry and wanted to get to the hall for lunch before heading to the library. He wasn't sure his notes for the upcoming Herbology exam were up to scratch. He smiled to himself, looking forward to this particular study session.

Garreth gave him a knowing grin. "What's that look for, Lee? Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain school hero would it?"

"Might do," he said, coyly. It was hard not to feel good about the amount of time he had been spending with MC lately. Ever since the day he had leant her his handkerchief, she had been rather friendly. "I'm meeting her after lunch to study."

"Studying? Hmm, nothing else?" Garreth asked. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Have you asked her out on a date yet?"

"No, it's not like that," he said, shaking his head. "We're just friends."

Not that he wouldn't want to, of course. MC was so pretty, and she had a lovely smile. She was smart too, studying with her was easy, fun. She wasn't afraid to delve into difficult questions and find the answers, or debate them out. He could see why she got on so well with Sallow, they had similar ways of thinking.

"You should ask her," Garreth said. "Just see if she wants to go to Hogsmeade, or maybe take a walk outside of the grounds. Get away from the castle for a bit, you never know what may happen. It might be nice to spend time with her alone, you know, just you two."

The very idea of being alone with MC made his neck feel hot. He wasn't so experienced about matters of the heart, or the physical side of it either. He could certainly look, and admire the way a girl moved, or smiled. It always brought a flush to his face when he watched MC duel. She was intoxicating when she got all worked up and fiery, shooting spells across the room in Crossed Wands. She was a formidable opponent.

When it came to the idea of touching her though, he had serious butterflies in his stomach. Just thinking about it right now was starting them off. The anxiety a whole afternoon alone with her might set off made him wonder if he could do it. How would he even ask her? Gods, she might laugh and say no even!

Maybe that would be a relief. At least he wouldn't have to worry about getting so flustered over her.

Nonsense. He was getting to like her company too much to stop now. Why else was he in a hurry to get to lunch? The thought of seeing her was setting his butterflies off pleasantly.

....*....

He could feel eyes on him, that strange sense of just knowing that someone was looking at you. He paused with his reading and looked up. MC had her elbows on the table, one hand supporting her chin, the other pressing her quill to her lips. Her eyes were on him, and her mouth twitched up into a smile when he met her gaze.

He gave a quick glance at the open texts around them before meeting her gaze once more. "What?"

Her smile widened. "You have a habit of biting your lip when you read," she said. "It's cute."

"Cute?" He stared at her, confused. He could feel the beginnings of a blush. She had been watching him.

She nodded. "Very cute." Her eyes flicked down to his lips and she smirked. She tucked some hair behind her ear and pulled her book a little closer, looking down at it, the smirk lingering on her lips.

He turned to gaze across the library, but not actually looking at anything, trying to process what she had said. What did that mean? He brushed fingers self-consciously across his mouth and tried to refocus on his book, but he was now too busy trying to not bite his lip. He glanced up at MC and she smiled without even looking his way, like she knew what he was doing.

She was teasing him.

Fighting the urge to grin, his stomach doing this weird little flip of delight, he returned to his book. He hesitated, and then gently pressed his teeth into his lower lip, his pulse subtly picking up speed.

"Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose," she said. She smacked her quill against his forearm.

He smothered a chuckle, glancing around to see if anyone was paying them any mind, but nobody was. He gave her a teasing look. "I'm sorry, I'm not distracting you now, am I? Perhaps you should be more focused on your book rather than staring at my mouth."

She twirled her quill in her fingers, eyebrows lifted. "What would you rather I paid attention to?"

His lips parted and he couldn't stop his flush, his neck burning just as hot as his face. "Wh...what?"

She giggled quietly, checking for eavesdropping herself. She leant even closer. "I can go back to my studying if you want, but it is rather boring and we've been here for a while now. Or..."

"Or?" He asked. He quite liked the sound of where this might be going, he tensed, waiting.

"We could find something else to do," she said. "You and me. What do you think?"

Oh, he was thinking a lot of things, most of them far too inappropriate to say in the middle of the library. Not that he would say them to her. She would probably slap his face and run for the door. But, gods, he couldn't help but think them.

"I think that sounds like a great idea," he said. He tapped his fingers nervously on the table top. "Did you have anything in mind?"

Her smile did amazing flippy things to his stomach.

....*....

She was holding his hand. It was incredibly distracting, it felt so bloody nice, the feel of her fingers wrapped around his. She was tugging him eagerly along the path, the soft dappled sunlight under the trees gradually disappearing until they were in the dark depths of the Forbidden Forest.

He kept asking where they were going, but she wouldn't say. When she had suggested sneaking off somewhere alone, this wasn't quite what he had imagined.

He glanced around into the shadowed depths of the trees. "You're not dragging me out here to tie me up and leave me here, are you?" There may, or may not, have been a twinge of nerves in that question.

She chuckled. "I wouldn't do that to you," she said. She threw a look over her shoulder, sinful and teasing. "Maybe not the leaving you here part anyway."

"What's got into you today?" He asked.

She suddenly stopped on the path and held up her hand to quiet him. He peered ahead, wondering what she had seen. His heart picked up the pace. There was a reason this forest was forbidden. She looked up at him and put her finger to her lips. He nodded.

She beckoned for him to follow, and she led him quietly behind some bushes, keeping low. She was very stealthy and lithe as she moved, he couldn't help but be impressed. It was more of a struggle for him, being so tall and gangly as he was.

They paused and she pulled him down beside her, still holding on to his hand. She pointed through the foliage and held her finger to her lips again. He looked at her, the eerie glow of the forest making her eyes gleam. He swallowed nervously and then peered through the leaves where she had pointed.

A soft gasp left his lips. Ahead, in a clearing, were three unicorns. His eyes widened as he took in the silky glow of their coats and their graceful necks. They were stunning. He had never seen one this close before, let alone three of them.

He felt her hand squeeze his gently, and he turned to her, another swift breath left him. Her face was closer, her eyes watching him and there was a soft smile on her lips. "Beautiful, aren't they?" She whispered.

"How did you know they would be here?" He whispered back.

"I've been checking in on them for a while," she said. "Poppy and I do it regularly to make sure no poachers harm them. I haven't told anyone that they are here, until now."

He met her gaze. "Why me?"

She studied him, her eyes glowing and warm. "Because I trust you, and I wanted to share them with you."

His heart felt like it stopped in his chest, and then it started thumping hard against his ribs, making him feel a little breathless. "Thank you," he said.

He inwardly cringed at how awkward that sounded. He looked back at the unicorns, touched that she had wanted to share this secret with him. He turned back to her, lips parted ready to say as much. "I...mmph!"

Her lips pressed against his, cutting him off. It was soft but firm, and over far too quickly if he was being honest. She pulled back a little, her eyes assessing for his reaction.

"Wow," he said. He took a shaky breath. "Unicorns and a kiss, all in one day. You're spoiling me!"

Her laugh was a smothered snuffle as she tried to keep quiet. She put a hesitant hand on his chest, her fingers toying with the edge of his robe. "Can I have another?" She asked, softly.

He looked down at her soft, sweet mouth. "You may have as many as you wish," he whispered.

As she kissed him again, he remembered what Garreth had said about getting her alone outside of the castle. He realised that he didn't feel anxious at all, and not even concerned that they were snogging in the creepy dark of the Forbidden Forest.

His heart was hammering for a whole other reason, a brilliant reason. He was with her, and it was all that mattered.

[tearlessrain]

Tagged by @dingoat (thanks!!)

3 ships

okay so this is going to be 100% ocs but right now

My Sith Warrior Kalarros and @darth-bagel's smuggler/crimelord Sylvas. look it's basically just canon at this point, I love these two, I love their relationship. it could be argued that it's not really romantic, they're both married to other people and have a few other relationships (all consensually to be clear, they're not having an affair they're both very poly). Sylvas's husband was actually the one who originally set them up for some bdsm shenanigans (because honestly the only reason Kalarros isn't a pro dom is it's never occurred to him to charge for it, and said husband is also a Sith who'd considered Kalarros a friend for years prior to that and trusted him to look after Sylvas and treat them well) and they clicked spectacularly and developed a strong bond over the years. At this point they're so entwined with each other's stories that I've pretty much abandoned my original canon for Kalarros because it's just vastly improved with Sylvas in it lol. they've stuck by each other through some rough times on both sides and consider each other much more than casual play partners by now.

Khatte and another of Bagel's ocs, their bounty hunter Liz. honestly these two are just a lot of fun and kind of happened by accident, we had minimal involvement in this they just decided to develop a mutual crush and now Khatte has firmly entered his femdom era. it honestly wouldn't have worked pre Alliance era, Liz has zero tolerance for his bullshit and Khatte is significantly better at keeping his bullshit in check with some legitimate therapy under his belt. It's fairly casual but probably one of the healthiest relationships he's ever had just because he knows she won't settle for less and he likes her enough to meet those standards. what can I say, Khatte's type is people who could kill him and Liz's type (at least when it comes to men) is "extremely competent but also kind of pathetic" so of course they saw each other and instantly had to fuck.

taking an abrupt turn from SWTOR into BG3, my Durge (or half of my Durge) Ryldimar and @elaphaemourra's Tav Dragonfly. listen I did not particularly even like Durge as a concept until these two happened. [SPOILERS REDACTED I FUCKED UP SOME PEOPLE I TAGGED HAVEN'T PLAYED DURGE YET]

First Ship

I'm honestly not sure? technically this might also be ocs, because I was writing original fiction before I ever got into fandom spaces and even then I've never really actively shipped canon characters from other media that much (I passively ship a lot of things but I don't get that invested yknow?). so it's probably Talon and Iadra, my gryphons from a fantasy thing I started writing in high school and have been continuously developing for the last fifteen years or so. Talon is actually half gryphon, in this world gryphons are shapeshifters and are capable of both assuming a humanoid form and interbreeding with that planet's closest human analog (and also humans, theoretically, though I'm unclear on whether any of them have gotten to earth and tested that, the worldbuilding kind of got away from me and it's a beautiful mess now). gryphons bond for life the way a lot of predatory birds do and these two are completely devoted to each other, and also they have the fun aesthetic element of Talon being about 1/3 Iadra's size when she's in gryphonic form (due to an Incident™, he lost one of his wings years ago and it caused him to be stuck between forms, so he mainly looks like a slightly feathery Guy with a singular wing. about what you'd expect of an oc I made in high school but I love him okay).

Last Song

uuuh the Ken Theriot cover of The Witch of the Westmereland I think.

Currently Reading

honestly I have not been doing a lot of reading lately (been meaning to get back to it but yknow) but I'm in the middle of The Black Gryphon by Mercedes Lackey

Last Film

OG Star Wars, couple days ago my internet went out and that was one of three movies I happen to have on my hard drive (take a wild guess what the other two are)

Currently Craving

Salmon chirashi. I literally always want any iteration of raw salmon combined with sushi rice. fortunately I'm refilling my meds in a few days (to be clear the meds are unrelated to my love of salmon, there just happens to be a really good sushi place within a block of my pharmacy so I get chirashi whenever I need to pick something up)

tagging (only if you want to!): @elvhenyoung, @elaphaemourra, @mercurypilgrim, @darkshadeless, @vampiraptor, @reucrion, @artpigeons, @chaoticspacefam

[hyungseos-cafe]

fellow baristas!

here at hyungseos-cafe, we've interacted with some amazing fellow cafes and their baristas. below is a list of wonderful individuals we've had the honor of meeting along with their signature drinks!

list is to expand as i interact with more of you (:

☆ cafe: @biaswreckingfics

★ the barista: britt

⤷ signature drink: ❝ my family think's we're dating ❞ | menu

+eee i wish this were longer ∪>⸝⸝⸝⸝<∪ like imagine the conversations their families would be having behind the scenes and the chaos that would ensue once they find out sangyeon and reader are actually dating eeeeee

☆ cafe: @cloverdaisies

★ the barista: clover

⤷ signature drink: ❝ HEY CHAT! ∩^ω^∩ ❞ | menu

+ okay so i wrote a lot under my rb, but you did a fantastic job with is one. and again, i know nothing about gaming, but hey if there's a cute streamer i'm watching haha. but seriously, i loved the details of the cute usernames and comments. the interactions between hyunjae and reader was so cute and super fun to imagine hehe

☆ cafe: @from-izzy

★ the barista: izzy

⤷ signature drink: ❝ i'm home ❞ | menu

+ this one really hit home and was so comforting to read. i really felt like izzy wrote exactly what goes through my mind when presented with new opportunities. highly recommend reading if you're experiencing something similar!

☆ cafe: @littleroaes

★ the barista: dora

⤷ signature drink: ❝ enchanted ( to meet you ) ❞ | menu

+ umm?? i am kinda floored with how cute and soft this juyeon wt w?? "i just want us" will forever be iconic and soft and just? i just want what they have :(( but you did such a great job hehe i'm so excited to read more from you!

☆ cafe: @mars101

★ the barista: mars

⤷ signature drink: ❝ insomnia ❞ | menu

+ exes to lovers! everybody cheer! i love exes to lovers so much! literally one of my fav tropes! the part where reader and seonghwa "accidently" kiss falling down the snowy hill had me kicking my feet in absolute glee

☆ cafe: @sungbeam

★ the barista: duckie

⤷ signature drink: ❝ simple gifts ❞ | menu

+ i'm pretty sure i've read this story like 3 times already? i love how you wrote chanhee so much like he seems so cold, but in reality he has so much love for you and he just wants the best for you.

☆ cafe: @sxfterhearts

★ the barista: rach

⤷ signature drink: ❝ late night calls ❞ | menu

+ skater!jiung supremacy!! again this just made my heart absolutely melt with so much warmth. like i said, jiung feel like a warm hug at the end of a long day. if you like p1harmony, you'll love rach's work!!! please support them!!!

☆ cafe: @silverdune

★ the barista: ave

⤷ signature drink: ❝ iced oat latte, extra shot ❞ | menu

+ listen.... when i tell you i love ave with my entire heart, i mean it. maybe it's because i've known them for so long, but someone please go tell ave that their writing is phenomenal. they hear it from me all the time lol. anyways, seonghwa + coffee = love. literally if you haven't read this yet, do yourself a favor and please do. while you're at it, check out their entire masterlist too!!

☆ cafe: @winterchimez

★ the barista: ally

⤷ signature drink: ❝ nightmare before christmas ❞ | menu

+ to reiterate. ally. what. the. fuck. if you haven't read this already, please read!!! true crime and horror fics always intrigue me and this had the perfect balance of the two with a very sinister twist that i honestly wasn't prepared for.

☆ cafe: @zzoguri

★ the barista: moni

⤷ signature drink: ❝ with every storm, i have you ❞ | menu

+ i still can't believe you wrote my inner thoughts lol i really loved this fic though, it's among the few fics where i felt really seen as a person. idk i just love how you write and it all felt so natural and real. like if i had a partner this is how our dynamics are yknow?

[randomtangle]

NextFest Demos General Review

I'm gonna write what I think of the demos I played this NextFest. Each title is a link to the Steam Page, be sure to grab yourself a demo if NextFest isn't over (June 10-17, 2024). If not, some of them might still have public demos, and some of them might be out by the time you read this!

NextFest has ended but demos still remain! Check them out or wishlist them if they’re in pre-release.

500 Caliber Contractz

Mario 64 but you have a high-caliber sniper rifle. It's honestly more often a movement tool than a weapon, and the movement tech in this game is quite interesting. I haven't gotten it quite down yet. I’ll write more about it later.

Aero GPX

Reminds me of Kirby Air Ride.

Airborne Empire

This game is seriously addictive. I meant to give it 30 minutes (around the minimum time I’ve been giving there games), and it took 3 hours. The whole conceit of the game is that you are building an airborne city. All sorts of things matter, such as the tilt (you can’t just pile it all onto one side), the lift (you need to add fans, which need to be manned by citizens, to allow for enough lift to build more stuff), and propulsion (buildings will slow you down, so you can build propellers and stuff to help you move faster), as well as food and water and coal) to keep everything running) and various building resources which you gather by deploying workers to deposits on the land using a hangar. Light is also important to stop accidents at night… there’s all the little systems you need to manage. I really love it. Usually in city builders I get really stressed about strategic placement and how me not leaving space next to that big useless rock turns out to be a mistake when I advance in the tech tree and learn the rock is actually the most useful and I trapped it under an underpass. Airborne Empires can have the “I didn’t know how big this building is so I didn’t leave enough space here” problem (I really wish I could preview buildings before I had the resources to build them), but it’s mostly fine. The tilt and lighting systems lead to making a spread-out base. You recruit more citizens by hiring them from settlements below, but you’ll have to feed them all, and at least where I am in the game, you can only gather food and water, not generate it.it’s visually very cute, all the people are birds, and the talking sounds are birdcalls. It’s pretty chill most of the time, even the occasional pirate attack isn’t that bad, especially if you get defense towers, since you can repair pretty quickly. I could play the game for days on end, honestly. I love it.

Akimbot

A very fun 3D platformer, reminds me of Ratchet & Clank, Crash Bandicoot, Skylanders, etc. The whole game looks really nice and stylized. I played with the Acid Sprayer and found it to be very fun. The voice acting and dialogue were a smidge lacking at times (Exe feels compelled to go "Tch" every time Shipset talks, and Shipset cannot shut up, but it didn't annoy me.) Overall I'm excited to see how the full game turns out!

Aloft

I didn’t find Aloft interesting. It’s not that I don’t like survival games, per se, it’s that my patience with survival games is really low. (300 hours of DST has changed me.) They need to be really interesting for me to stick, because if not, I sink untold hours into them getting progressively more and more annoyed. Aloft is probably someone’s cup of tea, but it ain’t mine. Sorry.

Beyond These Stars

Coming Soon!

Dice & Fold

A very fun roguelike deckbuilder game that's more about rolling dice than drawing cards. Enemies have slots you must fill to defeat them. Some enemies require exact rolls (say, a 3), and some just have numbers that have to be reduced (say, a 5, and you could put a 2 and a 3 in it to complete the slot). And there's more like doubles slots, slots that only accept odd or even numbers, etc. Your hero has an ability that you can earn by filling in the required slot on your hero card, there's all sorts of items and companions that alter the game in little ways... it's really fun and I'd love to play more of it in the future!

Dimhaven Enigmas

I love the graphics, just to get that out of the way. Pixilated textures are to die for, I’m a huge sucker for PSX or DS/3DS-style textures. It’s an interesting puzzle game, it’s pretty intriguing, but dangit if I’m not bad at puzzles, lmao. It’s tough! It really makes you work for the answer, I like that, but I can’t really write review of a completed demo because of it. Try it out!

Dustborn

It seemed… interesting. The graphics look good, the fight mechanics seem to have a bit of meat, but are sorta unseasoned. (They don’t feel like they flow that easily into each other but that might just be a personal skill issue.) The humor and writing isn’t really my cup of tea, it feels sorta like they’re always talking, and the lines in combat seem to overlap sometimes but I’m sure that’s unintended. Idk if I personally will be buying the full game, I’d rather wait for a review of the full game to see if I wanna buy it, but I don’t hate it.

Gladio Mori

Gladio Mori explores an interesting concept of a physics-based medieval weapon fighting game that oftentimes feels a bit like TABS if you were in complete control of a unit. It's definitely interesting. Right now there's only 3 weapons and no move editor, but I feel like the simple existence of a move editor means that in the future, there's untold levels of complexity to be found in this game. Has multiplayer!

Goblin Cleanup

It’s fun. There’s not much to say about it, as it’s just a simpler Viscera Cleanup Detail, but it’s cute, honestly. There’s some interesting quirks and level progression things, such as being able to light slimes on fire to be semi-infinite, faster mops, and you can do a lot with traps and stuff. Sorta simple as-is, unless I just missed the really cool stuff. (I haven’t played all of the demo yet, only the first two levels.)

I Am Your Beast

This game is amazing. The presentation of cutscenes is phenomenal; I really love the big bold letters and colored background. It's simple but it does its job. The voice acting is great, too. And the gameplay is just amazing. The amount of speed and precision you can move and attack with is on point. I'd suggest everyone

Kaiserpunk

Coming Soon!

KILL KNIGHT

Kill Knight has some wicked graphics. They look like they’re crackling with an unchained energy, power so great it corrodes the world. The gameplay is tough, I can barely survive a few waves, but the combat is promisingly meaty. Sword kills fuel the heavy weapon, and enemy drops can fuel the bfg thing (forgot its name). I’m not used to twin-stick shooters so I don’t know how much is innovative and interesting and how much is in every twin-stick shooter, but I certainly found the game really interesting. Really tough, but really interesting.

MACHI KORO With Everyone

Only the offline tutorial as of now, which is kinda annoying since i can't even try to run an offline hotseat game. But, it teaches Machi Koro pretty well. I like Machi Koro I like this game. It is nothing more or less than being just Machi Koro.

Metal Slug Tactics

Coming Soon!

Once Human

Open-World Survival Horror MMO. I’m only into survival horror, really, and was playing alone (I’m not that into MMOs except with friends). The systems seem okay, the combat is about what you would expect with heavy and light attacks and simple chains… the character creator is pretty good. (And I love myself a good character creator.) Not my cup of tea.

One Btn Bosses

It’s a bullet hell but you only need one button. Your “ship” moves on a ring outside the boss, and you use the button to change directions. The faster you’re moving (you gain more speed the longer you travel in a given direction), the faster you shoot. That’s about it for the systems (that I could see, at least. I haven’t beat it.) it’s fun, I’d recommend it to anyone. After all, you only need to press one button!

SCHiM

A very cute puzzle game where you play as the shadow of this one guy. You jump from shadow to shadow to navigate the levels. The art is beautiful accented neutrals, the music and sound design is really cute and musical, reminiscent of Untitled Goose Game. It’s really cute!

Screw Drivers

It’s Lego Technic as a racing game. To be completely honest, it just didn’t click well with me. The building aspect of it felt like every Lego Technic I’ve ever built, plus actual engineering. You need to connect the engine to the axel to the drive wheels, and set those to steerable… I know that’s simple, but it’s a bit too complicated for me to play that much. I’m a simple woman. Seemed fun to drive the cars, tho.

SWORN

It’s Hades but with Arthurian Legend. I don’t really know what more to say. It controls like Hades (well, I played Hades on the Switch, so maybe keybinds are different than I expect) it’s got similar systems of boons, in-level currency and cumulative secondary currencies, et cetera, et cetera. This isn’t a slight against it, I really like it! I can’t really speak for its writing since I can’t find much and I’m sure not all of it is in as of yet, but what I could find in-game was interesting. I don’t quite understand the world and how the Holy Grail and pagan deities and King Arthur all feed into why these monsters are about, but I’m assuming that’s elaborated on as you go through. I’d be willing to get the full game.

Tactical Breach Wizards

I adore this game. The graphics are really cute, the combat puzzles are really interesting and fun (I like this genre of games, I’m totally blanking on the name tho) and the writing… oh the writing. The writing is so good. The jokes are right up my alley, the story is really interesting, the world is the right amount of absurd that the characters can be deadpan about always having newt bones on their person that you can tell that it’s just as much of a half-joke in-universe as you’d expect. It’s really fun and I’m hoping to play the full game upon release.

Tavern Talk

I loved this game. The sound design is so peaceful and soothing, the writing I really like, there’s a lot of good jokes and just tender moments. I love Fable, the main other character in the game. They’re an anxious ranger who wants to get out into the world and go on adventures, they’re so cute. The other character, Caerlin, is nice too. The art is beautiful, I’m really invested in it now! I need to get the full game!

Tiny Glade

Cute game where you can do a bit of finely-controlled procedural generation of a little landscape, and take photos of it. I played game last NextFest called Dystopika that was like this but with a cyberpunk city. Tiny Glade is cute, simple, and allows you to make little houses and landscapes. It’s cute, I’m sure people will like it, but it just ain’t my genre.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

My Thoughts If Cursed Cat Alastor Did The "Demon Dance" That Cats Do...

[Note: Reading This Is Optional.]

with the bad stuff going on in the world, Cursed Cat Alastor is perhaps a weird rain of fluffy baby sunshine that puts a smile on one's face....plus I have been like faving/hearting some of the fanart of them so far for the last few minutes or however many seconds.

but anyway, I think if Cursed Cat Alastor did that whole famous "Demon Dance" that cats are known for, it would probably freak Vox and Lucifer out.

the Demon Dance, is something cats do...I had found out that is what it's called from some site I can't really remember the name of.

but ya know when the cat arches their back and start to side walk really slowly before going fast, it might depend.

just watch out when their tail gets really fluff out, that means they are super excited.

oh yeah, and if Cursed Cat Alastor is anything like my Fluffy-Baby/Second Cat, looking in their eyes for too long will be taken as a challenge. XD

like Charlie would need to be the one to remind everyone to NEVER look into Cursed Cat Alastor's eyes for too long, cause they will take it as a challenge.

I'm pretty sure that is how my second cat is, if ya look into their eyes too long, they will possibly take it as a challenge.

it be funny if it was the same way with Cursed Cat Alastor, well that and him doing the demon dance that cats are famous for.

and if a cat like Cursed Cat Alastor does that and their tail is really fluffed out (which means they are excited.) and they haven't ate anything yet, it could be wise to run.

because they would be doing that demon dance and be after you in a creepy hilarious and adorable way.

the whole demon dance is just one of the weird cat behaviors, and I would love to see Cursed Cat Alastor do that.

like picture a guest is in one of the hallways and going to their room, when they come across Cursed Cat Alastor a few feet away just standing there and looking at them...

but all of a sudden, Cursed Cat Alastor gets on their tip-toes that is their adorable paws, and starts to side steps to them slowly with their back arched like a witch's cat.....and it starts out slow before becoming fast and they start to hop a bit too, which freaks out the guest and they start to run for their life and down the stairs and out the front door, and pretty much confusing Charlie, Angel, Vaggie and Husk.

Alastor would of probably already know what happen, because he seen it many times, the first time he saw it was by accident.

if Cursed Cat Alastor did the "demon dance" once in a while, it could be really funny, and Alastor might find it very hilarious because it freaks everyone else out.

if Niffty saw Cursed Cat Alastor do that, she would probably think it is the cutest thing they ever did and might feel jealous that Alastor and others got to see it first before she could.

if some people on here do have a cat, and there cat does that whole witch's cat pose and starts to side walk very slowly before picking up speed and could at times hop a little, you now know it is also called the Demon Dance, even if it doesn't really have to do with demons...

but that is what it was called, still can't remember the name of the site that said that what that thing cats do, is called The Demon Dance.

still funny though, and the idea of Cursed Cat Alastor freaking everyone (save for Alastor and Niffty, and possibly Rosie.) out by doing that demon dance, would be interesting to watch as well as funny. XD

if one does put a mirror in front of Cursed Cat Alastor, would they think it's another cat...?

well cats would be like that, well and human babies as well.

I just pictured in my head about Cursed Cat Alastor looking at themself in the mirror and thinking its another cat and start hissing at their reflection.

is it weird if in some strange crossover way, if Cursed Cat Alastor gets fed after midnight they will become even bigger and scarier.

but if they get wet by some form of water, these balls of fluff will pop off of their back and the fluff balls will end up being like mini kitten versions of them...and yeah it would reference The Movie Series known as Gremlins.

I dare Vox to do it, either feed them after midnight or do the whole pouring water on them and wait for the fluff ball that will become kittens to be born. it should be entertaining to watch what happens...

because one of the things that can be entertaining, is Cursed Cat Alastor jumping on to Vox's face after having water being poured on their back.

it would also be entertaining to watch Vox, Valentino and Velvette freakout when coming face to face with Cursed Cat Alastor when they do the demon dance, and starts to side walk (while still being in a type of witch's cat pose.) to them slowly while looking all three of them in their eyes....and then the next thing those three know, Cursed Cat Alastor starts to pick up the speed and ends up going towards them faster and even hop a little while doing so.

Valentino and Vox could be the ones most freaked out, if Velvette has seen that kind of weird yet adorable cat behavior before, she could be use to seeing it like I have become use to it as well.

it may only happens once in a while with my second cat, just like how that freaky thing with the modern radio only happens once in a while.

like I said before, sometimes for some odd reason, when I point my fingers at it (and this is when I switch it on by the way.) it will either have a good or poor signal, like it can be like if I point my fingers to it and the sound will be perfect, but take it away and it will become poor again....or in vice-versa.

I'm pretty sure that freaky thing only happens once in a while.

at least I don't have full powers like Alastor.

I don't really mind that freaky stuff that happens with that radio every once in a while. plus I still use my gem bracelets for multi-purposes (even if sadly one of them broke and I hope it can be fixed sometime.)

like one of it being protecting me from harmful energies, one of them being toxic-lust energies, but of course it doesn't mean I would be safe when I sleep, which is why I have to have dream-catchers in both my room and outside my bedroom door.

and there is that whole pendulum unlocking something, and I have to use my gem bracelets as sealing charms and limiters, one of the times the program had broken, is because of that one time I had to take off one of my gem bracelets, because it became a bit too snug.

and of course after keeping it off for too long, that freaky stuff started to happen again, like anything I held like a bottle pop by it's lid or a pen, it would end up moving a bit like my pendulum...

so I had to re-do the program and prayer as well as use the food salt, to make sure even if I end up having one or even all my gem bracelets off for long periods of time, they will still work how I want them to.

one of the reasons is because I know I wouldn't be able to handle it, I mean I might want to use magic to astral travel to a type of virtual reality for a vacation to get away from the Toxic-Masculine energy and the lines that those who are influenced by the Toxic-Masculine energy may cross and pretty much be a domestic abuse to the feminine energy (not talking about the toxic-feminine one...)

but even there is some parts of myself, I don't want to get too magically powerful....that is why the sealing charms and limiters are in place, cause I know I wouldn't be able to fully handle it if it gets too advanced...

not sure if many go through that, like if they ended up getting a pendulum for the first time and it starts to move like crazy when they hold it....which it did freak me out when it first did that.

I'm still gonna make sure not to use my pendulum too much, and yeah when I can, I will use the food salt on them because of the whole Ozzie thing that I had talked about before...I'll get to it eventually.

and by Ozzie, I mean the one from our universe, not talking about the Ozzie from Helluva Boss....even if he is adorkable sweet potato with Fizz.

those two are the most adorkable sweet potato couple ever.

also, besides the whole Cursed Cat Alastor doing the demon dance and freaking others out.

if they start to blink really slowly at someone, I think that is the "kitty kisses" which if Charlie ends up looking up and finding out what it is, she could be very touched that Cursed Cat Alastor is giving her kitty kisses.

Cursed Cat Alastor might only choose those they find worthy and like, to give the kitty kisses to.

some cats can end up getting on your lap even when your just watching a movie or show or playing a video game, and they will possibly get their face really close to yours and rub on your face or under your chin. if Cursed Cat Alastor did that, it could be very cute.

if he starts to bite even just a little bit, that could mean they want food. half of the time, I think that is what my second cat wants.

they show different signs of wanting their food, one of the signs being how they meow and even if ya do get ready to get the food for them, they can be impatient and in their own way, tell you to "hurry up" by nipping at your leg or foot.

well that is how my second cat is. if Cursed Cat Alastor is the same way, that would be interesting to watch if it is Angel's turn to feed them.

like Angel could be getting the food ready, but Cursed Cat Alastor keeps biting at his leg which is their way of telling him to hurry up.

cats work in mysterious ways, that and they can be wild one minute and lazy the next. I hope to see Cursed Cat Alastor do the demon dance someday, cause seeing them freak someone out while being in witch's cat pose, walking slowly before going faster and maybe hopping a little, would be really funny to see and even those who are right in front of Cursed Cat Alastor and being the one that they are going towards while doing the demon dance, would be entertaining.

well I would be entertained by it, cause it is a cat and doing that freaky but adorable witch's cat pose type walk that is also called the "Demon Dance"....their first victim to freakout should be Adam, or maybe both Adam and Lute. XD

[mermaidsirennikita]

Could you rec HR with the hero having a...idk, I don't want to say disability (?) Idk if that's the correct word, but the hero has a limp, or a backache or he can't walk that much without getting tired, he needs a cane, can't see properly, something like that, he ain't that healthy like the usual males from the romances

I'm not an expert on the terminology, but I do think "disabled romance heroes" is an acceptable term based on what I've seen in discussions. However, it's not universally agreed upon (nothing is) and in real life it would obviously very case by case. Gently, I would suggest not using terms like "healthy", etc--I have a condition that qualifies as a disability, but I'm not really comfortable with identifying myself as disabled (at this time in my life) and physically I'm overall pretty "healthy". I wouldn't begrudge anyone with the same condition for feeling otherwise, etc. Like I said, things like this are super individualized! But I appreciate you wanting to use the correct terminology, there isn't a single right answer but we can (and should) always try.

But yes! Historical romance heroes with disabilities. I'd check out:

Rules for Engaging the Earl by Janna MacGregor. The hero is a veteran with chronic pain and a limp/mobility issues. He uses a cane, and this is something that affects his sex life with the heroine--not a lot, he just can't do certain positions, and it doesn't negatively impact them. They get more creative (it's hot). It's a really sweet, gentle read; there's a lovely scene where she takes care of his leg when I think he's initially anxious about it. Obviously, this turns into a BJ, because... why wouldn't it...

My Darling Duke by Stacy Reid. Super romantic one here, with top tier tension. The hero was injured years ago in an accident, and though he can technically walk, ride, and stand, it's very difficult and he uses a wheelchair most of the time. He also has it in his head that he's impotent--I'll add that Reid does make it clear that one of his more progressive doctors is like "yeah I'm pretty sure that you have a mental block and CAN have sex" but, what with the mental block, the hero is like "NO I CAN'T WHICH IS WHY I CANNOT BE WITH HER".

Surrender to the Devil by Lorraine Heath. The hero has progressive vision loss; he will eventually be completely blind, and he's really upset about it. I will add a TW--this book does deal with childhood sexual abuse experienced by the heroine, as well as the domestic abuse of a supporting character.

Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale. Probably the best example of this! The hero is a famous rake, but he has a stroke at the beginning of the book, which leaves him in a state the people around him call "madness". He initially can't speak and has some mobility issues. Mentally, he's totally there--he has issues processing language. The heroine ends up seeing him in a asylum (they met before his stroke) and ends up helping him. It's super romantic, and Kinsale writes his experience in an incredible way.

Dearest Rogue by Elizabeth Hoyt is known for the heroine being blind, but the hero actually has a mobility limitation due to an injury he got on the job. I forget exactly what it was, but it took him off said job, so.

Edit, silly me, forgot:

When The Earl Met His Match by Stacy Reid. Hero was born unable to speak--he's verbal, but he lacks speech, so he writes and signs. The heroine ends up learning how to sign and it's super romantic.

Still haven't read these yet, but Joanna Shupe's A Notorious Vow has a deaf hero, and Romancing the Duke by Tessa Dare has a blind hero.

[bozepomagaj]

College AU!Trigun (part 1)

I can't believe I'm actually posting something I made on a long ass car ride LMAO. I haven't written fanfics in a long time, and this is my first time with 'x reader' fanfics so you'll have to bear with me on this one, I'm treating this as an experiment to see if I can even make these types of fanfics (also I'm a lesbian. But I'm not immune to babygirls.). Criticism is always appreciated on this blog🤝. Also wanted to mention that english is not my first language so I apologize for my poor/repetitive vocabulary. This was proof read but I also apologize in case I missed a mistake or two.

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Summary: you end up at a party and save a mysterious but pretty blondie that your dear friend won't shut up about

Tw: drugging

Cw: swearing, 'questionable noises' get brought up once

Word count: 2.2k

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

There was an infamous guy on campus that seemingly, everyone knew. Rumors about him spread quickly every couple of weeks but what we do know is this:

He came here through a recommendation. Didn't have to work hard like the rest because his relative, supposedly late mother, was an up-and-coming biologist who apparently stuck her nose where she shouldn't have and got killed in an 'accident'. No records of said crash could be found, presumably because the government did their best to cover it up. He barely studies and instead spends time at parties getting drunk out of his mind but luckily he's incredibly smart which means all he really has to do is anxiously study the night before the test and he'll get incredible results everytime. He's kind, caring, cheerful, and many other positive adjectives, or so you've been told by your dear friend Meryl who's been trying to get you to meet him for the past few weeks. She always complained about how you need to 'live a little' because you never went out, always nose deep in some book studying or on your phone, never the outgoing type. She never forced you to go out but this time, she had to because you needed to meet Vash Saverem, the guy she would talk about nonstop.

You stood in front of the door, loud music blaring, people screaming in excitement as their favorite song came on, lights flashing in your eyes until all you could see is white. You could even make out some... questionable sounds but this was normal. This was college. You were going to grab your phone to call Meryl when she bursts out of the front door carrying quite a large, half-unconscious man.

"Oh my god you came afterall, I thought you were gonna ditch me!"

You rolled your eyes at the comment, she promised you 20 bucks if you finally came out of your hidey-hole and who are you to say no to that type of money?

"Yeah, I need to get out from time to time too."

"Good! Now come in!"

She grabs your hand and pulls you inside, giggling while doing so. Clearly she was a little tipsy already. She dragged you to the only clean table in the house, most likely defended it with her life to make sure it stays like that.

"So it's just the two of us?"

"Nope. Others are scattered around, I'll go and find them okay? You just stay here."

It was only then that the realization of what you're doing hit you. You're about to meet her friends. 3 other complete strangers that you only knew some bits and pieces about (except Vash) and you had no idea if they were even gonna like you. You looked around nervously, contemplating if this really was a good idea. The place was already cramped but somehow it felt even more cramped and stuffy in this moment.

"Are you like... sure about this?"

"What do you mean?"

It was honestly surprising how you didn't meet her friends yet, considering how much time she spent around them and how many random stories she told you about them. You made an image in your head of every single one of the individuals she spoke of. The heavily religious Nicholas D. (she said it stands for dickhead) Wolfwood who, despite studying theology and being the first person in the church on a Sunday morning, drank like a 40 year old man with marriage problems. Milly Thompson, a total sweetheart but also not the brightest bulb who went to the gym at least 4 days every week and was fucking shredded and him. Vash. The one and only. She was convinced you two would be great friends when you meet eachother but you doubted that, considering how many stories she told you about him going out to random parties. She left as quickly as she came, looking for her dear friends. You were never much of a drinker so you just sat there, looking at your phone, rejecting random advances from drunk guys&girls alike. 20 minutes pass by and Meryl is still nowhere to be seen. You get a little concerned, these types of parties could get... out of hand at times so you get up, looking for her. You walk around, trying your best not to bump into too many people but you're still met with an occasional 'hey' and 'watch it'. It's then that you witness a different scene. Two guys holding a blondie who was clearly drunk out of his mind, babbling something while the two tried to drag him upstairs. Weird... you thought. But it was then you saw them force his mouth open and quickly throw in a small, pink pill. You might not have been to many parties, but you've seen your fair share of movies and shows to know exactly where this was going. Other people saw the scene, too, but just ignored it.

Fucking Bystander effect.

You kept looking at the scene unfolding infront of you, your mind racing at a 100 miles per hour. You wanted to help obviously but could you really go up against two guys at the same time? Or would you just end up making the situation worse? It's then that you saw both of them hesitating as the blondies legs gave out on him. It was now or never. Quickly, you approached them, putting on the bravest face one could muster up in a situation like this.

"Hey, what are you two doing?"

Their heads snap back, fear in their eyes. Clearly they didn't expect someone to approach them while doing this. They looked at eachother stammering some excuses but you cut them off.

"If you don't mind, I'll be taking my friend back so he'll sober up."

You were quick, hoisted him on your back and dragged him to the nearest bathroom, locking the two of you in a stall. He was completely out of it and you could only hope it was because of the alcohol and not the pill. You forced his mouth open, he didn't swallow the pill. But even then, it must've melted at least a little. You grab the pill and flush it down the toilet, then proceed to slap him a few times so he could maybe, just maybe get a hold of himself.

"Hey, buddy wake up. What's your name?"

You kept trying but it wasn't working. He tried to say something but the words were slurred and nonsensical. You ran to the bar to get a cup of water then returned, making him drink it in hopes it would somehow help. You got your phone and tried to call Meryl to find out this mysterious mans identity at the very least but she wasn't picking up. Texting also didn't work. Frustration and anxiety kept building up, you never expected to be in this situation when suddenly, the guy handed you his apartment keys which you recognized immediately. Meryl had s similar pair which meant they lived in the same apartment complex. After some weird glances and bumping into people, you two managed to drag yourself out of the house, it felt like hours had passed by the time you were in front of his apartment, the poor guy still completely out of it. You unlocked the door hastily and dragged him inside. The apartment was... large. And fancy. Not really what you expected from someone like him. You look around, trying to find a bedroom and on your 4th try, you do. You drag him inside and lay him on the bed, taking off his long coat and his shirt so he doesn't overheat. You give him some more water to drink when finally, Meryl calls you back. Her voice is muffled, loud music still blaring and people talking in the background.

"Where'd you go? I can't find you anywhere."

"No shit, I'm freaking out cuz I'm at some guys's apartment."

You hear Meryls voice shift to being slightly panicked.

"What? Did they take you there? Are you okay?"

"I am fine but the guy certainly isn't! Someone gave him a fucking pill and I dragged him back to his apartment, he didn't swallow the pill so like... maybe he'll be fine."

"Holy fuck, uh, do you want me to come over or something?"

"I'll be fine but I'm going straight home after this. Maybe I can meet your friends another time."

"Yeah, yeah no problem. Sorry about all this I uh... didn't expect this."

You hang up and sigh heavily, putting your head in your hands assessing your situation. You're in a random, half-unconscious guys apartment, sitting down on the floor close to tears because this was NOT how this night was supposed to go. You were supposed to be drinking while meeting new friends and overall having a hell of a time. You decide there's no time to wallow in your misery and you get up, checking back on the guy. He's sleeping soundly, his beautiful facial features still visible by the moonlight seeping through the window. In a way he looked angelic... otherworldy. You grabbed a pen and some paper and wrote a small note.

"Dear stranger,

We don't know eachother but I dragged you home cuz you almost got roofied. If you still feel sick in the morning, please call an ambulance. I hope your hangover isn't too bad.

Ps. Here's my phone number in case you need help with anything."

You left it on the nightstand and quietly exited the apartment. You stumbled back home, absolutely wasted from... well, everything. You got changed, did your nightly routine and the moment your head hit the pillow you fell asleep, exhausted from everything that happened.

-|-

You woke up to the sound of your phone blaring and vibrating. You grabbed it with an annoyed groan slipping past your lips. You tried to turn off your alarm... but realize it was actually a call. Who the, and excuse my language, FUCK would be calling you at 6:07am? You answer with a raspy voice, not even bothering to clear your throat.

"Oh my God you actually picked up, hi! I'm the guy you helped yesterday."

And just like that you were wide awake. Memories of last night flooded your brain as panic set in again.

"Hey, hi, are you okay? Did you call an ambulance?"

"No I didn't, I'm doing fine now thanks to you. I wanted to thank you for helping me out. If I'm being honest I don't remember a thing so... I'm just glad I'm home safe. Thank you."

His voice was like honey, you couldn't tell if he actually sounded that nice or because you still weren't fully awake and being complemented this early in the morning gave you a kind of an adrenaline rush.

"It's no big deal really, it's the least I could've done."

You replied with a small giggle. Not sure what was so funny but just the fact that someone came to thank you for your good deed felt nice.

"It is a big deal though! I'm treating you to coffee or some cakes, I know a really good place. But it would be nice if I knew your name."

Overly-sweet, he was just like the cakes he mentioned. You couldn't help yourself but to smile, it's rare to find people like these today.

"Yeah, sure. The name is (Y/N) (L/N). And you, my mysterious drunken man?"

He giggled at the nickname. For someone to sound so angelic and energetic at 6:10am, he left you in an awe.

"Vash Saverem."

And with that your jaw just dropped. He was the guy you were supposed to get drunk with yesterday, chat about something random and not drag him half-dead body home, wondering if he'll be okay or not. You stayed silent for a couple seconds before nervously talking.

"Oh my God I know you. Kind of, you don't know me but- it's hard to explain okay? We'll talk more when we meet up, bye."

You could hear him protest on the other side of the phone but you quickly hung up out of shock and disbelief. It's like this couldn't get any weirder. You quickly call Meryl, she was gonna murder you for calling her this early but it would only be right to tell her about her friend, right? The phone rang once... twice... three times... four times... and then you heard a loud, pissy groan.

"Seriously. 6am? What is wrong with you."

"Remember the guy I had to drag home yesterday? Turns out it was Vash."

Thank the lord you moved your phone away from your ear because the screech she let out was ungodly.

"You're kidding right!? How do you know!? And is he even okay now?"

Her voice was panicked, you could tell she was concerned about her friend.

"Yes, yes he's fine now. He called me this morning cuz I left him my phone number in case he needed me for something. I still think you should go check on him, just in case."

Meryl hangs up hastily, most likely to run over to Vash's apartment to see how her friend is doing. You just stay there staring at the wall.

You wonder if you'll ever get those 20 bucks she mentioned.

[richincolor]

Audrey's 2023 Favorites

I always like digging through the books I read at the end of the year to decide which will claim a spot on my favorites list. Even though I've decided to crown just four with the title, I'm pretty pleased with the variety of genres represented. If you haven't had a chance to check any of these out yet, I'd encourage you to add them to your wish list or local library's wait list!

This Time It’s Real by Ann Liang Scholastic || My review

When seventeen-year-old Eliza Lin’s essay about meeting the love of her life unexpectedly goes viral, her entire life changes overnight. Now she has the approval of her classmates at her new international school in Beijing, a career-launching internship opportunity at her favorite magazine…and a massive secret to keep. Eliza made her essay up. She’s never been in a relationship before, let alone in love. All good writing is lying, right? Desperate to hide the truth, Eliza strikes a deal with the famous actor in her class, the charming but aloof Caz Song. She’ll help him write his college applications if he poses as her boyfriend. Caz is a dream boyfriend -- he passes handwritten notes to her in class, makes her little sister laugh, and takes her out on motorcycle rides to the best snack stalls around the city. But when her relationship with Caz starts feeling a little too convincing, all of Eliza’s carefully laid plans are threatened. Can she still follow her dreams if it means breaking her own heart?

My Flawless Life by Yvonne Woon Katherine Tegen Books || My review

At the most elite private school in Washington, DC., whenever anyone has a problem that they need to go away, they hire Hana Yang Lerner. Hana is a fixer. She knows who to call, what to say, and how to make sure secrets stay where they belong—buried. She can fix anything. Except her own life, which was destroyed when her father, senator Skip Lerner, was arrested for an accident that left one woman nearly dead. Now Hana’s reputation is ruined and her friends are gone. So when she gets a job from an anonymous client called “Three” to follow her former best friend, Luce Herrera, Hana realizes this might be her way of getting back her old life. But the dangerous thing about digging is that you never know what you’ll unearth. As Hana uncovers a dark truth about her supposedly flawless classmates, she’s forced to face a secret of her own.

Midnight Strikes by Zeba Shahnaz Delacorte Press || My review

Seventeen-year-old Anaïs just wants tonight to end. As an outsider at the kingdom’s glittering anniversary ball, she has no desire to rub shoulders with the nation’s most eligible (and pompous) bachelors—especially not the notoriously roguish Prince Leo. But at the stroke of midnight, an explosion rips through the palace, killing everyone in its path. Including her. The last thing Anaïs sees is fire, smoke, chaos . . . and then she wakes up in her bedroom, hours before the ball. No one else remembers the deadly attack or believes her warnings of disaster. Not even when it happens again. And again. And again. If she’s going to escape this nightmarish time loop, Anaïs must take control of her own fate and stop the attack before it happens. But the court's gilded surface belies a rotten core, full of restless nobles grabbing at power, discontented commoners itching for revolution, and even royals who secretly dream of taking the throne. It's up to Anaïs to untangle these knots of deadly deceptions . . . if she can survive past midnight.

She is a Haunting by Trang Thanh Tran Bloomsbury YA || My review

When Jade Nguyen arrives in Vietnam for a visit with her estranged father, she has one goal: survive five weeks pretending to be a happy family in the French colonial house Ba is restoring. She’s always lied to fit in, so if she’s straight enough, Vietnamese enough, American enough, she can get out with the college money he promised. But the house has other plans. Night after night, Jade wakes up paralyzed. The walls exude a thrumming sound, while bugs leave their legs and feelers in places they don’t belong. She finds curious traces of her ancestors in the gardens they once tended. And at night Jade can’t ignore the ghost of the beautiful bride who leaves her cryptic warnings: Don’t eat. Neither Ba nor her sweet sister Lily believe that there is anything strange happening. With help from a delinquent girl, Jade will prove this house—the home her family has always wanted—will not rest until it destroys them. Maybe, this time, she can keep her family together. As she roots out the house’s rot, she must also face the truth of who she is and who she must become to save them all.

[purrincess-chat]

Glad the LOZ ask didn’t bother you ❤️ if you post any LOZ fics let us know! I’m sure people who love your writing and LOZ would like to read them (I know I’d be one of them, lol)

I personally have a weakness for pre-calamity Zelink because the possibilities? And the angst? Ugh. Another pre-calamity fic I love a lot is “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” by Dayhaven (they write so much Zelink, pretty sure any of their fics is great). It’s a To All the Boys AU where Link and Zelda have to pretend they’re together pre-calamity 👀 not sure if that would be your cup of tea (because of that and because it has smut) but it’s a fun read as well. Anddd I also loved a post TOTK fic by mitsuboo (apricatus) so much but it’s been on hiatus for a long time, it’s basically about Zelink not having gotten together yet even after the events of BOTW and TOTK and still being in the mutually pining stage, but it looks like it might not get finished and I know reading fics on hiatus can be frustrating, so ignore that one 😅

Hope you enjoy the recs if you check them out! ❤️

Not at all, I've been wanting to talk about it for a while, but I don't know anyone in the LoZ fandom and I've also been busy with school, so writing fic for it to break in has been slow going. 😅 I have so many ideas in the AOC timeline for similar reasons! Like the calamity is over, but they're still entrenched in the society that suppressed them prior. The post-botw fic I'm writing has its own challenges but bc basically everyone who cared about high society is dead, Zelda and Link can be a bit more lax and open, so Link talks more and they're more playful and silly at times, and Zelda falls more in love with him as they travel and meet all of his friends and she hears more about his kind deeds from the people he helped while she was sealed away. (Also Purah tags along with them a lot for fun purposes)

But in the AOC timeline post calamity they are still under the watchful eyes of the kingdom and Zelda has more clearcut duties as a princess, so I have a few different ideas. A couple of them involve King Roam being like okay, Calamity is over, and you're a woman now, so you need to settle down so I can pass the throne on. So, he starts inviting nobles to court her, but she's in love with Link. I have one that's more serious where Link enters a competition to win her hand both bc he loves her but more bc she's annoyed with it bc she can make her own choices and he's her friend so he supports her. Another one is more cracky in that there's a competition that he accidentally stumbles into and enters, and he keeps showing up the others on accident mostly. Zelda thinks it's hilarious.

I have another one post-AOC where Zelda is trying to understand her powers and gain better control over them, but Roam doesn't care about them now that the calamity is over, which kind of pisses her off considering how hard he pushed her to unlock them. But that one delves into deeper loz lore, and she has visions of her mom.

I have another one that's a crossover between post-totk Zelink who have faced two crises at this point and are just married and scraping their kingdom back together, and they get sucked into the AOC timeline with all of that crew bc the AOC bunch haven't dealt with the Demon King Ganon chilling under the castle yet. But it's interesting the differences between totk Zelda and Link who are way less suppressed and kind of doing what they want bc they're reestablishing the kingdom and the AOC Zelda and Link who are still stuck in the old ways and more high strung. And also totk zelink seeing all of their friends again.

I also have another ambitious one that is a OG Hyrule Warriors style crossover between a bunch of the mainline games where their worlds are all colliding with the BOTW verse, so you get Links and Zeldas from OOT, SS, TP, WW. And they all have to refight their Ganons. I'm most excited to write the WW duo in that one bc I love the idea of all of the other Zeldas being really proper and then there's Tetra who is literally a pirate 😂

I have so many ideas, and I've been slowly chipping away at my first one. I'm working on the third chapter of it, but that one is gonna be really long. I know exactly where it's going to end bc I literally want it to span the end of botw to just before totk starts and cover a lot of their journey to rebuilding and whatnot prior. I have the outline broken into arcs depending on where they're going and who they're seeing. And because I'm so busy I want to get through a couple arcs before I start posting it so I can avoid long hiatuses 🥲 I've been working on it in my little amounts of spare time.

But those fics sound really fun I am also a sucker for pining, I don't intend to put them together right away in my fic so I can play with that and basically all of their friends can see it but they're both still oblivious. It's the absolute devotion and mutual pining for me. And they're both just so broken and understand each other in unique ways no one else does because of their shared experience. 😍